Creation Stories is an adaptation of Alan McGee’s 2014 autobiography (of sorts), and comes with a stellar British pedigree; scripted by legendary author Irvine Welsh and Herb Garden founder Dean Cavanagh; produced by Danny Boyle; starring Ewan Bremner (of Trainspotting fame), and directed by Nick Moran (most famously known for starring in Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels, but a director in his own right).
It tells the story of Creation Records and its formidable roster, including My Bloody Valentine, Primal Scream, The Jesus & Mary Chain and Oasis.
With so many giants of British culture attached to the project – particularly the contributions of Bremner, Welsh and Boyle, as well as the heavy Scottish influence – comparisons with a certain 1990s British youth film are inevitable.
They are valid to a point; with its anarchic spirit it channels Boyle’s 1996 classic, but Creation Stories is very much its own thing which takes its cues from another cult classic; Michael Winterbottom’s seminal 24 Hour Party People.
Namely, it’s the story of a passionate music fan who surrounds himself with a plethora of unique characters and then changes the world.
We first meet Alan McGee as a teenager in the south side of Glasgow when his life is so changed by music (firstly Bowie, then punk) that he moves to London to find his fortune.
Sensibly, the middle-aged Bremner isn’t used to portray the younger McGee, so Leo Flanagan guides the film through its opening stages and carries proceedings well until he hands over the part to its leading man who, in full curly haired ginger glory, picks up the mantle with relish.
It’s a frenetic opening that rattles through the independent music scene of the 1980s alongside narration by McGee (in the form of a 1990s interview in L.A.), and the non-linear storytelling style means that it does take Creation Stories a while to settle down and find its own rhythm.
Alan McGee always takes great pains to stress that Creation Records was about the people, and his three partners in the venture are painted in broad strokes, but each gets a moment to shine.
This Is England’s Thomas Turgoose and Michael Socha (as Dick Green and Joe Foster respectively) are the comic foils who struggle to keep up with McGee, whilst Mel Raido’s Ed Ball has the film’s most moving speech (of which there are a few).
Featuring in nearly every scene, Bremner has to do a lot of heavy lifting but his performance is both chaotic and nuanced, easily overcoming any challenges that are put his way.
Nick Moran (who also plays Malcolm McLaren, McGee’s hero) constantly keeps things moving but allows the slower sequences the room to breathe, with McGee’s breakdown especially immersive.
Without spoilers, there is a sequence midway through, built around one long shot, which turns the film on a sixpence and is one that should get more acclaim than it’s likely to.
The attention to detail and design is impressive too, although a recreation of an infamous occurrence at the Brit Awards perhaps should have been left on the cutting room floor as it does show up the budget (or lack thereof).
For those not familiar with the story, many of the details will naturally go over their heads, but this shouldn’t impact on the entertainment. Give or take some artistic license, the love that has gone into the film is clear to see, with a raft of cameos that subtly serve the film rather than distract.
There are far too many appearances to list, and the enjoyment for the aficionados will come from picking them out, but stay vigilant for a wealth of familiar faces, although the best of the bunch is a scene-stealing performance from a certain outer-space feline.
Said aficionados will find holes to pick: the lead-up to Primal Scream’s Screamadelica is rightly depicted as seismic, but the album and its success are barely covered. And it would have been nice to see a dramatization of McGee’s famous anecdote about not being allowed to enter the tent he had paid for at Knebworth, which could either have been comedy gold or worked well in tandem with the chilling scene where McGee’s disillusion with New Labour is laid bare.
Although some sequences are glossed over, the film doesn’t shy away from any sources of regret McGee may have and is honest in its depiction of its subject matter.
But the real heart isn’t about the music (obviously, the soundtrack is great) and the associated antics, rather a different element of McGee’s life. Once again, to say too much would ruin the surprise, but it anchors the film and gives it real unexpected pathos.
When such heavyweight contributors combine it’s rare that any artistic venture is greater than the sum of its parts, but Creation Stories is a happy exception to that rule.
