SYMPATHY FOR THE
DEVIL (aka ONE PLUS ONE)
In 1968 radical French film director Jean-Luc Godard wanted
to create revolutionary art in cinema. He had already developed a style that
threw out conventional linear narrative and cinematic technique and now he
wanted to incorporate rock music into his societal critique by showing the link
between political power and that of the rock star. At that time in early 1968, Paris had been
besieged by youth riots, Black Power was on the rise and the Vietnam War was
escalating. The most potent rock bands of the period were the Beatles and the
Rolling Stones. Godard approached the former, wanting John Lennon to play
Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky. Their meeting, far from inspiring Lennon,
confused him about the project’s real intent so he pulled out. When Godard
criticised the band in public for their lack of political engagement, Lennon
hit back: ‘Dear Mr Godard. Just because we didn’t want to be in the film with
you, it doesn’t mean to say that we aren’t doing any more than you’.
The director then moved on to the Stones, which promised a
more genial reception: “I’ve seen all his pictures”, enthused Mick Jagger of Godard.
“I think they’re groovy”. They allowed Godard the unique privilege of filming them
in the studio creating one of their most famous revolution-tinged songs ‘Sympathy
for the Devil’, (originally called ‘The Devil Is My Name’). This was the band’s
return to blues form after the psychedelic misfire of ‘Their Satanic Majesties
Request’ album.
Godard’s title for the film project would be ONE PLUS ONE.
His idea was to combine the work of two influential movements of the zeitgeist
in one film. Separate political scenes staged by him would be intercut with the
Stones’ footage to draw parallels (possibly) between the manipulation of the
public by political fire-brands and that achieved in adulation of the modern
rock musician. Unfortunately, the idea was ‘nouvelle vague’ in theory and
almost ruinously vague and pretentious in execution. Watching the film at home
is sadly the only way to enjoy it as it’s best to speed through the dreadful
fake posturing of the air-punching student politics. Godard filmed actors in
the apt environs of a junk-yard, featuring an actor quoting controversial black
power leaderEldridge Cleaver (arrested on suspicion of rape at that time) as
well as Hitler. Three young ball-gowned women are machine-gunned as symbols of
the luxury-ridden establishment. Cleaver’s sound-bite is used portentously: “We
are going to get our freedom, or no-one, but no-one is going to get any peace
on this earth”.
The only peace is to fast-forward through Godard’s
half-baked juvenile agit-prop nonsense to get to the good stuff. What gives the
film real value is the fascinating fly-on-the-wall window into the genesis of
the Rolling Stones’ song over time, especially to fans of the group (hence my
seeking it out some years ago). We see ‘Sympathy’ begin life as a calypso tune
of all things. Jagger, Richards and Jones strum the basic chords; Mick, dressed
in a glam white kaftan, picks his way through an early version of the lyrics to
an opening blocky percussive lilt that turns into Hammond organ accompaniment.
Some word changes would later be made. (Here, he sings of how ‘the SS raged’
rather than the finished ‘Blitzkrieg’. It’s all very relaxed and condusive to
creativity. In the next scene, Jagger opts briefly for a slower, more ballad-like
feeling rendition which then morphs into a loose jazzy groove that already
begins to sound like the version we know. Later, we see the bongo-drummed
opening with our man struggling slightly to counter-point the new rhythm with
his first verse – the ‘whoo-whoo’ adding in to the mix as he pumps his foot to
the floor like he’s stepping on the gas to the finishing line. This then
completes the transformation to the single that restored the Rolling Stones to
ascendancy as 60s icons.
The movie’s problem is that the two clearly disparate
stories have no connection. The band knew nothing of the political scenes
Godard shot and intercutting between both does nothing to bond them either - it
just interrupts the intriguing music work with pretentious waffle. Secondly,
Godard’s idea was not to show the final scene of the Stones playing the
finished version of the song. Instead he wanted audiences to just see the work
in progress footage of them in mid-invention and make the connection themselves
to the eventual released recording.
The band did not appreciate the creative liberties being
taken with their material to suit the director’s impenetrable vision, nor did
Godard’s producer Iain Quarrier, whose eye was on storming the box office not
the barricades. A premiere was scheduled for November 1968; what Godard didn’t
know was that Quarrier took the bold step of re-editing the film to include the
finished version of ‘Sympathy’ and to change the title to that of the song for
the extra commercial boost. Godard tried
to present his cut of the film outside, but fans did not vote with their feet.
He lambasted the group, as he did the Beatles, but with the added charge of
racism, insisting they were being ‘…unfair to the black people’. Jagger saw
through this ludicrous claim of pretended alliance: “I don’t think Godard
understands anything about black people…He’s such a fucking twat...’
In SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, the Rolling Stones allowed their
music intimately to introduce itself, giving persuasive time to the Devil - but
not much in conclusion to a self-important darling of the New Wave…
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