Kurt Cobain: The Man, not The Myth

Wednesday night, I was honored to be invited to the NYC screening of the film Kurt Cobain: About a Son (also, a link to its myspace page). I’ve been a big Nirvana fan for, jeez, 15-16 years now, but it is only now that I can say I have an understanding of Cobain as a person and Nirvana as a band.

Kurt Cobain was, and will always be, an anomaly. And he’d probably be the first person to tell you so. From what I’ve learned (or what I’ve construed from the facts I’ve been given), he loved being different; he loved being outcast. He thrived on the discrepancies he found in human nature, in himself and in others. He was a caring person, he was a punk, he was a rock star, he was a charismatic asshole, he was a friend, a son, a husband and a father. Sadly, Cobain’s human traits got lost in the limelight. He was raised upon people’s shoulders. He was scrutinized under a spotlight. In his fans’ eyes he became a demigod, and in the media he became a target. He was thrust, kicking and screaming, into the role of the “spokesperson of his generation.” He became everything that everyone told themselves they wanted.

Kurt Cobain: About a Son does a wonderful job of peeling off the layers of Cobain that people have glued to him. Unfortunately, most of what people know or remember about Kurt are the last few months of his life. Spiraling downhill, entering rehabs, almost dying, and ultimately losing the battle. After his death, he was written about constantly by writers who had no idea who he was, spreading rumors, painting pictures of a larger than life tragic rock star figure. This film tries to unravel everything you’ve heard. In an hour and a half, you learn that he was just as real as you and me.

The film is simply Cobain speaking. Speaking his soul with a friend. His stories are set to images and film (and a magnificent score and soundtrack) of the three places he lived: Aberdeen, Olympia, Seattle. The imagery is absolutely beautiful. AJ Schnack, the director, paints a marvelous picture, using scenery, landscapes, cityscapes and people. You don’t even see Cobain himself. No Nirvana shots. It’s a dream-like state while you listen to his voice guiding you through his thoughts, feelings, inspiration, insecurities. Opening himself to you, showing you that he was just a young, idealistic man. Yes, a man. Not some rock god. Not a supreme being. Not anything that he has become. He struggled, he loved, he paid taxes, he went grocery shopping, he felt pain, he crapped, bled and cried. He was you. He was me. A normal guy who played guitar and who was ambitious. He wasn’t a martyr or a savior, and his life wasn’t a funeral march. In the words of Leonard Cohen, he was simply a “broken hallelujah.”

Here’s a brief trailer/snippet off YouTube to get an understanding of how the film works: