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Jun 15, 2012 By Lily Moayeri Web Exclusive

To quote one moviegoer’s experience of Rock Of Ages, the feeling at the start of the film is one of embarrassment. This might be due to the fact that hayseed Sherrie (Julianne Hough) bursts into Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” on the bus on her way to Los Angeles from Oklahoma while her fellow travelers harmonize along. Or it might be due to the fact that Drew (Diego Boneta), the bar back at the Bourbon Room, aka the Whiskey A Go Go, bursts into a mash-up of “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll/Jukebox Hero” at the long-closed Tower Records on Sunset while his fellow shoppers harmonize along. Or it might be because you realize you wore the exact same outfit as one of the many hairspray-heavy extras back in your metal heyday.

This is the setting for Rock Of Ages, directed by stage musical-to-screen veteran, Adam Shankman. Los Angeles, the Sunset Strip, 1987, close-up: the Bourbon Room. The characters: aspiring singer blonde bimbette/waitress/stripper (Hough), aspiring singer sleeveless-shirted dude/bar back-where is this guy’s requisite mane by the way (Boneta), grizzled club owner fallen on hard times Dennis (Alec Baldwin), sidekick to club owner and token British guy Lonny (Russell Brand), strip club owner Justice (Mary J. Blige), crooked politician Mike (Bryan Cranston), Tipper Gore-esque strident politician’s wife Patty (Catherine Zeta-Jones), tarty female music journalist pretending she’s not in the game just to bed rock stars Constance (Malin Akerman), sleazy, balding music manager cracking green gum Paul (Paul Giamatti), and jaded uber rock star dripping with groupies, leather, and bad hair extensions Axl Rose, Sorry, I mean, Stacee Jaxx (Tom Cruise). Impressive list of talent, isn’t it? Even more impressive, they can all sing.

The songs are, of course, what this musical should revolve around. It’s a tale as old as time—kids coming to Los Angeles to pursue their dreams, falling in love, and inevitably ending up in stereotypical jobs that have nothing to do with their dreams. Meanwhile, someone who did reach their dreams is now living a nightmare from which he cannot awake. That is, until a Rolling Stone journalist shows him the light by getting naked mid-interview and turning out to be the woman of his dreams. The song choices fit perfectly into the story. The paramount problem is that with a story this hackneyed, even a medley of Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Poison, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Warrant, (fill-in-title-of-radio-hit-from-mid-Eighties-song-here), aren’t enough to pull it out of its stale space. This is a bit of a catch-22. On the one hand, there’s a little too much singing to piece enough of a story together. On the other hand, there’s not enough narrative development, so you need a lot of singing to mask that fact.

Rock of Ages is obviously a satire, but the trite character parodies odiously cross the line into groan-inducement more often than not. Jaxx in assless chaps? Jaxx touching the breasts of every female he encounters in lieu of handshake? Jaxx walking away from women who are trying to stick their tongues in any of his orifices while they are left hanging, so to speak? Jaxx’s assistant, an actual baboon called Heyman who is dressed identically to its owner and has similar drinking habits? Despite all of this, Cruise is one of the more engaging characters in the film. Plus, he gets a chance to show all those crunches paid off. Blige is another winsome character. She doesn’t need to prove anything with her vocal chops, but hearing her belt out those anthemic rock numbers exalts them to a previously unattained level. And while Giamatti’s portrayal is effortless, his character is so oily, to quote an adjective from the film, that mustering up sympathy for him is next to impossible.

This is where the accolades stop. Brand plays himself, which is what he plays in everything he’s in, as well as in his actual life. It lends a certain verisimilutude, but got boring halfway through Forgetting Sarah Marshall, and hasn’t improved since. Even when he and Baldwin have the realization of their bubbling homoerotic relationship, the cringe overpowers the chuckle. Zeta-Jones doing a synchronized dance number in a pleated pastel suit, while amusing, is really quite dumbfounding. And Hough’s incongruously shellacked Barbie doll looks start inducing a toothache with their sheer overkill, while Boneta’s cloy earnestness wears thin rapidly.

Rock Of Ages is too much of a niche movie. It’s the rare viewer who will be able to spot the many cameos by haggard rock luminaries including Skid Row’s Sebastian Bach, Extreme’s Nuno Bettencourt, or even Debbie Gibson. Pushing two full hours, the film tries even the most diehard metalhead’s commitment. Final word: cheesy.

(rockofagesmove.warnerbros.com)

Author rating: 3/10