Simon Rushworth
@ Odeon Silverlink Newcastle, April 21 2009
The rockumentary is hardly a byword for serious film whether you’re talking the spoof classic that is Spinal Tap or the sad parody which revealed itself to be Anvil.
But then along come Iron Maiden to confirm that life for a band on the road – even a band as big as this – is a far cry from sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. In their case it’s more like jetlag, pizza and time taking its toll.
Flight 666 is no feckless fantasy. In fact it has the capability to brutally destroy the glorious metal dream as its stars emerge as the least egotistical, most hard working, affable and approachable men in rock.
This is not a movie celebrating debauchery, drunken tomfoolery, depressing cliches or dumb-ass decisions. There is no sniping, no petty jealousy, no dreadful mismanagement or scandalous tabloid fodder. Hell, there’s not even a single groupie in sight. Motley Crue fans, look away now.
What Iron Maiden deliver is a welcome dose of reality. There are those who will label the behind-the-scenes glimpse of their heroic Somewhere Back In Time tour as plain boring, with its admirable focus on the historic feat rather than a corny concentration on the famous individuals responsible for its delivery.
In fact this is a film which makes you proud to be British. Maiden have become one of this country’s finest exports and from start to finish Flight 666 sees six guys committed to a noble cause conduct themselves impeccably – from Mumbai to Toronto and most places in between.
Perhaps legendary manager Rod Smallwood, a cross between Michael Parkinson and Rodney Marsh, threw a cloak around all things potentially damaging to the Maiden brand as any sensible manager would. Or maybe, just maybe, Bruce and the boys really are the mature, focused and professional individuals who constantly impress on their big screen debuts.
Mixing instantly identifiable riffs and choruses with culture, geography, humour and humility, the Maiden machine has proved to be as adept at producing a relevant film for the 21st century as it is at selling millions of records and even more T-shirts. It seems the whole of South America wears Eddie close its heart – no wonder this band can fund its own airliner.
The funniest moments are provided by the fans; the Japanese girl who yearns to be Steve Harris’s daughter; the guy with the long hair and beard (you’ve seen him around) who cries uncontrollably as he clutches one of Nicko’s drumsticks; the Costa Rican who describes his country as the ass-hole of the earth; any of the frankly disturbing Mexicans on day release from the local prison.
The serious moments come from Bruce, an intense guy with a phenomenal work ethic. Without his front and Steve Harris’ behind-the-scenes graft there would be no Maiden. If Mr Dickinson decided, one day, to rule the world he could raise a global army in minutes. An army so loyal to his cause they regularly dodge police brutality, inclement weather and each other’s flying boots to gaze upon metal’s true Messiah.
Flight 666 is a devil of a film. And the devil is in the detail.