Mitchell Tolliday’s Murder Ballads: How to Make It in Rock ‘n’ Roll is a British rock mockumentary soaked in blood, ego, and ridiculous ambition. It’s part satire, part slasher, and entirely unhinged—capturing the madness of band life in a way that evokes the dysfunction of This Is Spinal Tap and the poignancy of Still Crazy. Where those films kept things grounded in dry wit or the realization that one is aging, Murder Ballads sort of grabs a guitar and smashes everything. Tries very hard to be similar in the mayhem and irreverence of the original American monthly magazine Creem, with the likes of fictional characters Mr. Dream Whip, Boy Howdy, and the incendiary writing of critic Lester Bangs and many others
At the center is Stack of Corpses, a punk metal band that’s less a musical group than a series of walking disasters. Their rise and fall are told through a series of loosely connected incidents, more anthology than straight narrative, each one bloodier than the last. It’s a style that feels chaotic, like an album with various styles of music, like those K-Tel “15 Power Hits’ records from years ago. The film tries to be rock ‘n’ roll mythmaking turned inside out and played for laughs.
In one of the more inventive moments, the band auditions a female keyboardist who nearly gets herself murdered by a psychotic female rival. Band members steal an unfinished song from a dead punk icon who has songs locked in his upstairs boxes that his widow is managing. A gangster murders the band manager because of unpaid music software. The lead singer dies from auto-asphyxiation. And somehow, it all ends with the remaining band members tied up in a basement, facing their arch-nemesis. It’s ridiculous.
“…band members steal an unfinished song from a dead punk icon…”
The actors’ performances are heightened but never out of control, with a real sense of ensemble timing. Lauren Cornelius is wonderful as Annie, the auditioning keyboardist who turns into a chaotic menace. Her scenes steal the show, bringing a kind of gleeful derangement.
Imogen Wilde’s “Keys,” Luke de Belder as “Drums,” and Fran Meateer’s “Bass” play their roles like punk cartoon characters, each one contributing to the spiraling absurdity with just enough sincerity to keep the comedy grounded. Even Rhiann Connor’s tragically doomed frontman Brian, who dies in what’s arguably the film’s most absurd gag
Shakespearean scholar, critic, theatre actor, and biographer Simon Callow, channeling his “Bill Nighy” from Still Crazy appears throughout as the ghost of punk icon Richard O’Keefe, who introduces interludes from the madness. The idea of a dead musician haunting the band has potential and has been done many times, yet it has not been developed.
Mitchel Tolliday’s direction is confident. The film is shot well with good pacing, and a style that balances grime with flair. It’s never flashy for its own sake, the blood, the attitude, the chaos and the practical effects all add to the charm even in its most erratic moments.
At its core, Murder Ballads tries to be a satire of rock clichés, yet spills them out with song titles and Simon Callow’s wonderful voice. It’s violent, loud, crass, and often ridiculous, yet the actors give it some charm as they romp through it. It might not be for everyone, but for those who appreciate a darker, messier, and more chaotic take on music, Murder Ballads will rock your world.
"…It’s part satire, part slasher, and entirely unhinged..."
