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A cringe-worthy, pathetic excuse for a show made by corporate entities who want to convince you oh so bad that under the suits, round table pow wows, and power lunches, they're really just a bunch of cool, down to earth hipsters who lament the demise of "quality" music. Yeah right. Too bad they can't discern the difference between quality and crap. This show, like American Idol, plays out like another feeble attempt by the industry to perpetuate the myth that artists are nothing unless they're discovered by corporate entities willing to discover them and milk them for all they're worth. Case in point: the lead character of the show wants to start his own "indy" label with a "true" artist as the basis of his main signing. Problem is, the artist in question sounds like every other commercial piece of garbage the record industry has tried to force feed down our throats. If you really wanna make a statement in a show, how about showing a guy who believes in an artist that's obviously original and left of center (like a Bjork, for example)? When independent labels are supposed to be the last great haven to find fresh and original music, it's a sad state of affairs when they resort to churning out the same mush that the majors do. The people behind this show are incapable of making the distinction.

Before you read into my review as the ramblings of some whiny feminist, consider that I am a man who normally likes a good action film with a reasonable amount of violence, sex, etc. Now consider that I found this film extremely insulting.

Could this film be any more chock full of bad, sexist clichés? Yes, the film is visually stunning and original to look at, but the film noir, Chandleresque narrative storytelling gets tiresome after a while, the violence is ridiculously over the top, and worst of all: behind the eye candy lies a pathetic concept that falls under the weight of it's own creator's ignorance, especially towards women. You've got to love people like Frank Miller who would swear that they're trying to make bold advances towards representing women equally by introducing female characters that are strong and independent, only to fall flat on his face in the process by making ALL of the female characters either hookers, exotic dancers, drug addicts, or lesbians. (Nothing against lesbians here, but my point being that EVERY woman in this film is the product of a MALE fantasy, and a sad one at that - sad as in the type of guys who are pushing 50 and live at home, go to comic conventions, and jerk off to Star Trek reruns). Miller clearly doesn't have a clue about women. Hell, even the purest female character here, an 11 year old VIRGIN (very important to state that here, as Miller thought to as well), can't resist the temptations of Sin City, as she matures into a 19 year old exotic dancer who has the hots for "pushing 60" Bruce Willis. Woo hoo! Another male fantasy cliché! Are you counting?

Overall, incredibly dumb and immature.

Poor Peter Frampton. His career never did fully recover after this debacle of a film, but, rest assured, he's not the worst thing in it. I don't see the point in reiterating what others have already so eloquently stated here, except to say that this film is easily the worst project anyone involved with it has ever done, including Steve Martin, who's amassed a nice collection of steaming dung piles ever since. Even seasoned actor Donald Pleasance is on hand to join in on the fun, proving that Michael Caine's not the only accomplished actor willing to do anything for a price. And that's one of the most startling things about this film, for it's amazing how many credible people were involved who, no doubt, thought it was a great idea and were willing to give it their all. (George Martin and Geoff Emerick included).

I would rank this right up there with "Kiss Meets the Phantom" or "Skidoo," another dumbfounding attempt at a surreal musical, as one of the most entertaining musical stinkeroos of all time. Only Earth, Wind, and Fire manage to escape with any degree of integrity, turning in one of the most original reinterpretations of a Beatles song ever, and they were rewarded with a minor hit in the process. Aersomith comes close, until Steve Tyler and co. make the mistake of actually being part of the non-plot and engaging in hand to hand combat with the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton. Even Alice Cooper grapples with our falsetto heroes. Hey, that's got to count for something. Where else are you gonna see that? As if there weren't enough careers dragged through the mud on this, even more stars are assembled to sing the grand finale, such as Tina Turner, Dame Edna, and Carol Channing?! Another reviewer mentioned that the film at least shows high production values. Huh? Yeah, Billy Preston hanging on wires and shooting cartoon laser beams out of his fingertips must have easily ran the budget up to $60 million. Most of the film looks like it was shot on a back lot.

In the film's defense, (what little there is) I will say that some of the music is quite good, and it's interesting to hear the Bee Gees and Frampton re-record classic Beatles tunes their way, even if it doesn't always work.

Definitely worth seeing if you're a fan of bad films.