Brian Eno is MORE DARK THAN SHARK

INTERVIEWS, REVIEWS & RELATED ARTICLES

Uncut SEPTEMBER 2024 - by John Robinson

ENO

An Eno doc, in the manner of Eno - thoughtful, conceptual and "generative".

In the opening scene of this hugely enjoyable Brian Eno doc, we find the composer/polymath bopping around in his home studio, thinking about a composition like an ecosystem. As he works, we see him add weather, and even an animal population to his piece. Eventually he tweaks some controls on his screen to alter the prospect of change - how probable it is that a musical phrase will occur again.

Eno's "generative" - evolving, infinitely changing - way of making music has been the guiding principle for Gary Hustwit's film. Rather than a whistle stop rockdoc taking in glam rock and ambience via Fripp, "Heroes" and the Bush Of Ghosts, the idea is that the movie is itself pretty much infinitely variable, being composed of pictorial elements and whole scenes which can swap in and swap out each time it's played.

One of Eno's 'Oblique Strategies' cards - designed to unblock the uptight 1970s creative - asked, "Is it finished?" The answer here would seem to be, "No, it isn't." A point that the film tacitly makes is that there isn't only one way to tell a story; and an interesting thing about people is that they will seldom all be of one mind. As with almost everything Eno is involved with, the film has a starting point in baffling sums, but is resolved with great charm and in a philosophical and relatable fashion.

The generative system behind all this can either create the film in real time as it did at the premiere. Or it can output different digital versions of the film, as it did for when it was shown at Glastonbury, and for this limited release at Picturehouse cinemas. The idea is that each cinema in the chain will show the same version at the same time, but that it will change for each of the seven days of the run. So if you went every day, you would see seven different versions of the film. But it's doubtful you'd want to leave your flotation tank or your Omnichord for that long.

It's clearly this which has piqued Eno's interest enough to participate ("There's never just one story," he says in the Q&A afterwards), and he is a playful and radiant presence throughout the film. Notoriously shy of the retrospective, "our" version of the film finds him variously discoursing in a fuschia shirt, grooving with Bowie in 1993, creating ziggurats with televisions in New York, and delivering a lecture on why art is politically important. We also get Oblique Strategies, Apollo, a witty moment of David Byrne, some Fripp (but not enough) and Roxy (definitely not enough) and just the right amount of Devo and U2 (none). It was, as Eno himself said in the Q&A after the UK premiere, not at all like the other version he saw, and more "poppy and wordy".

Wordy works perfectly. Eno's music is an infinitely lovely and thoughtful expanse, and so clearly is this film, but its real strength may be presenting its subject simply talking. At the Q&A, the other panel members lean into him entranced, and so will anyone who sees Eno, drawn in by his twinkling thoughtfulness and talent for clarity. The ideas are sometimes privileged over the music here, and the accompanying soundtrack album is similar. Rather than generative in nature, it's more preaching to the ambient choir, with a compilation of lesser-known collaborations and three unreleased tracks - including one from his live show at the Acropolis last year.

Early in the movie we hear Eno speak about how as a young art student he wanted to resolve some of the tension between fine art and rock music, and making some remarks about The Who. In the film Eno almost presents himself the anti-Who. Floating on a river, devising a way to use Duchamp's urinal, playing an Omnichord, and quietly open to the idea that, if you stop and think about it, the complicated things are actually rather simple.