Walking out of the new Edgar Wright documentary The Sparks Brothers, you won’t be just tempted to listen to the various albums from the band Sparks. You’ll also get an inclination to check out other documentaries about obscure musicians. These kinds of movies aren’t just interesting because they focus on “failures”. They’re a rebuttal to how society so often paints over the idea of flaws existing, especially when it comes to our entertainers. These documentaries present musicians not as airbrushed figures ready for a L’Oréal ad but rather as the human beings that they are.
In these features, the stage lights are gone, if they ever were even there. All that’s left are tales of the past and hopes for the future that resonates as deeply relatable. The openly vulnerable qualities of this subgenre are something you can’t turn away from, especially when they’re in movies like Searching for Sugar Man and Anvil! The Story of Anvil. Neither film is a retread of the other with each containing unique achievements like the twisty-turny narrative structure in Sugar Man or the endearing underdog vibes of Anvil. Across both titles, though, one sees the traits that make documentaries about unsung musicians stick around in your head like a particularly catchy tune.
The 2012 feature Searching for Sugar Man, for starters, sets its sights on Sixto Rodriguez, whose reported death has become more famous than his tunes. Legends about the glorious ways this singer perished have morphed into legends. Most famous among these tales is the story of how Rodriguez ended his life by pulling out a gun on-stage and shooting himself in the head. Is all that true? Director Malik Bendjelloul follows two superfans of Rodriguez who want to know just that, as they try to track down what happened to this musician.
Initially, the whole piece takes on the ambiance of an investigative journalism drama with a duo tracking down clues and possible leads that could lead them to the musician they love. Searching for Sugar Man is already compelling when operating in this form, but the whole production gets a new fascinating layer when it’s revealed what happened to Rodriguez. Turns out, this guy isn’t just alive, he’s been working construction in Detroit, Michigan. Despite inspiring so many larger-than-life tales, Rodriguez is living an all-too mundane existence.
The format of Searching for Sugar Man, which begins as a mystery before turning into something more introspective and vulnerable, just wouldn’t be possible if the documentary covered someone ultra-famous. The obscurity of the central subject of Searching for Sugar Man inspires a unique narrative structure that wrings such poignant melancholy out of the dissonance between Rodriguez’s mythic reputation and his reality. These creative opportunities and accomplishments can only function properly in a documentary concerning a musician the audience doesn’t know backward and forward.
The idiosyncratic and haunting nature of Searching for Sugar Man is certainly impressive. However, if you want to find the best example of why documentaries about obscure musicians are so good, look no further than the 2009 film Anvil! The Story of Anvil. This piece is about the Canadian rock band Anvil, which seemed to be on the up-and-up during the 1980s. By the time the film starts, it’s apparent that life has had other plans for these artists. The members of this band now work ordinary jobs and only perform in small venues in their off time. The documentary chronicles their attempts to stage a comeback through an international tour. Needless to say, a ramshackle voyage across Europe does not go well.
All along throughout Anvil, vocalist Steve “Lips” Kudlow shows a fervent determination to keep pursuing his rocker dream no matter what. Director Sasha Gervasi frames this commitment in an appropriately messy manner, as Kudlow isn’t above getting overly agitated at his bandmates in times of crisis. But even with his shortcomings, it’s impossible not to get swept up in Kudlow’s continued insistence that the Anvil show must go on. Kudlow doesn’t want money or fame, necessarily. He’s put so much of his life into this. Anvil isn’t a trivial hobby, it’s something he’s toiled over for decades. It’s also how he’s connected to others, including with his lifelong best friend Robb Reiner.
Gervasi emphasizing this quality in The Story of Anvil is what truly makes the film connect. In using a documentary to explore the lives of a little-known Canadian rock band, Gervasi finds not a laughingstock or a punching bag. Instead, he delivers human beings we can see ourselves in. We’re not supposed to point and cackle at the turmoil of this band, Gervasi (a longtime fan of the group) wants us invested in their plight. In the process, he creates an underdog musician story that gets extra dramatic weight from being rooted in reality.
The continued frustration from Kudlow over record labels refusing to listen to Anvil’s albums crackles with authenticity and tension. Financial struggles for the band have a similar level of nail-biting suspense to them. But the most difficult to watch moments of hardship come in the middle when it looks like, in the middle of recording an album, Kudlow and Reiner have had their ultimate falling out. There’s a rawness and relatability to how Anvil and its members keep trying to push this artistic boulder up the music industry hill. All of this turmoil is captured through Gervasi’s camera in an appropriately unflinching manner.
Of course, even a movie as heavy on setbacks as Anvil! The Story of Anvil isn’t just about emphasizing misery above all else. These documentaries also make sure to highlight moments of joy for these artists, even tiny ones. In an interesting similarity to Searching for Sugar Man (which saw Rodriguez’s tunes becoming a phenomenon in South Africa), Anvil finds triumph in discovering that an obscure musician’s work has resonated in an international country, in this case, Japan.
That’s another interesting quality about these kinds of documentaries. The distance between when these artists first emerged and the documentary’s production allows for an expansive look at how their music has been received. Rodriguez and Anvil never found traditional success in America, but over time, their work has left an impact in unexpected places. That kind of perspective is only possible through the expansive canvases these documentaries provide. Plus, it proves extra enjoyable to process when placed alongside the unflinching examination of these artists’ struggles.
However, the most touching example of joy in Anvil! The Story of Anvil does not come from discovering a fanbase located in Japan. It emerges in more intimate confines during an interview with Kudlow and Reine. Here, the former figure, when talking about fame, notes that “There are cliffs I could jump off of, that’s the easy way!” This joking sentiment leads to Reiner immediately responding with the genuine remark “Well, no, you wouldn’t jump off the cliff cause I’d stop ya.”
After Reiner says that the two share a look of affection drenched in decades of commitment. Gervasi’s still camera catches this fleeting moment of bonding with such restrained authenticity; it’s like you’re at the kitchen table with these two guys. It’s also a moment that perfectly captures how endless struggles for Anvil haven’t helped the band, but they sure have solidified the friendship between this duo. That sort of connection forged in the fires of misfortune is something rare. It’s something unique. Best of all, it’s something that could only be properly reflected in the world of documentaries about unsung musicians.
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