Anyone who witnessed Eddie Vedder and Bono clasping hands, earnestly pelting out Neil Young’s ‘Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World’ at Melbourne’s 2006 ‘Make Poverty History,’ concert could be forgiven for blanching at the prospect of sitting through Cameron Crowe’s new documentary, ‘Pearl Jam Twenty’.

Many, like myself though, will still be driven to see the film, perhaps out of sheer curiosity or the desire for a nostalgic plunge into the life of a band that provided the soundtrack for some formative years.
Crowe, a one-time 'Rolling Stone' reporter turned film director charts the origins of the group from their early days goofing off in Seattle clubs to the ensuing chaos resulting from their sudden rise to fame and beyond.

Assembled from over 1,200 hours of rare and never-before-seen footage, the result is a mixed bag.
Beginning in late 1980s Seattle, the film touches on the origins of bands such as 'Green River' and 'Mother Love Bone', whose singer Andrew Wood’s untimely death from a heroin overdose had a profound effect on the city’s music community. Vedder is not introduced until later on, and it’s his initiation and the early days of the band that make for the most compelling viewing. Initially shy and hung up on being an outsider, the younger Vedder comes across as likeable and largely devoid of the brooding sincerity that became so tiresome in later years.

There’s no doubt Crowe has amassed some superb footage. There’s a great moment detailing the other band members’ shock at seeing Vedder’s angry side for the first time (he’s unhappy at a bouncer duffing up a young fan), and the singer’s increasingly insane acrobatics from towering lighting rigs are enough to have you wiping sweat from your palms. But the sheer volume of footage and amount of history to cover is a double-edged sword. While the first hour is electrifying, the seemingly endless, rapid cuts from concert to concert do start to wear thin.

Aside from 'Soundgarden’s' Chris Cornell, there are no insights from outsiders and the film takes on a bit of a fanboy feel. Pivotal moments such as the decision to take on 'Ticketmaster' feel hurried while other, darker times are glossed over or ignored.

I can’t help feeling that had Crowe sacrificed some live footage in favour of further insights on Pearl Jam’s shift from carefree slackers to worthy-cause activists, the film would have been that much stronger for it. That said there are more than enough humorous highlights and outstanding archival music clips to engross fans and non-fans alike. Though you may come out feeling a little underwhelmed on the finer details of the band’s inner workings, this is still a great night out. A flawless film? No. Highly entertaining? Definitely.

To make this engrossing 25-minute short, filmmaker Marc Isaacs spent two months riding the lift of an East End tower block in London. It's interesting to note the different reactions towards his presence and how they change in some instances as the project wears on.
As more time passes, the lift almost serves as a confessional booth to some residents, while others relate to him in more basic terms such as offering food or the occasional joke. I love the simplicity of the idea and Isaacs has executed it superbly. It's a great reminder that often the best ideas aren't complicated, nor do they require a huge budget or extensive crew. Check it out.