I Am Trying to Break Your Heart

I am fairly confused reading some of the reviews... this was NOT a fly on the wall, eye opening documentary at all. It was something between an EPK and a longform video. Have those of you making such comments seen any real docs? This film looks like what it is... a great photographer who does not know how to tell a story in a cut, just from his still images.

You learn very little about Wilco and if you are not into the music, it is not watchable. There is 33 minutes before any bit of drama or story begins to unfold. All the hyped record label struggle is REFLECTIVE and only one single phone call unfolds before your eye. I found the film great to look at but hard to watch. It looks like something that was controlled, curbed and guided, not a REAL documentary. I happen to love YHF and the most enjoyable part of this film was hearing those songs but it was a complete distraction to the story.

Some Kind of Monster is a FAR FAR superior film and I cant stomach the music of Metallica. I Am Trying to Break Your Heart is flat, uninspiring and in general does not serve the story it is said to represent...

ash =o)

Fascinating documentary focuses on Wilco recording "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," the album that caused them to be released from their record contract, only to be picked up by a subsidiary of the same label that fired them. The album (which they were already paid for by former label Reprise) becomes their biggest seller ever. Gives you a "fly on the wall" look into the conflicts between Wilco top guns Jeff Tweedy and Jay Bennett, which resulted in Bennett leaving the band. Great studio footage, cool live band stuff, and some less compelling live Tweedy solo performances. That fact that this story unfolded LITERALLY in front of first time director Sam Jones' eyes is pretty amazing. Talk about being in the right place at the right time (for the sake of the film, that is). Maybe the band will be better off without Bennett? Who knows. I'd think this film would easily hold the interest of those not familiar with the band, but will be very special for those familiar with the unique, uncomprimising approach of these alt. country pioneers. 4 stars.

This is a documentary about the roots-rock band Wilco and the trials and tribulations they suffered in the production of their 2002 CD `Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.' Initially given a good deal of support by their record label (Reprise) Wilco strayed from their previous country folk-rock sound to embrace more experimental studio techniques and used synthesizers and strings to flesh out their sound. Their suits at Reprise balked at this sea-change and eventually refused to release the record and booted the band from the label. While all of this is going on the band is suffering internal strife as one of the members is let go with acrimony.

The story of Wilco's last album has become legendary in the music world and this documentary, shot in grainy black and white tells the story and portrays the band and its leader Jeff Tweedy in a sympathetic light. Tweedy is shown as the disheveled genius musician pushing the art forward while the greedy evil corporate executives attempt to thwart him. It's nice to see the band triumph in the end, and the film does throw some light on the pressure that is undergone to make a record for a major label as well as showing some of the seedier sides of the music business as flaks on both sides beat their chest and trumpet their side of the story. (Rating: 7 out of 10)

This picture is a must see for any Wilco fan, and I highly recommend seeing it on the big screen if possible. Besides the great concert and 'in process' recording footage, it has great art direction and cinematography. If you're a fan, you already know the stroy; Band makes record, band gets rejected by label, bands fires member, band tours, band gets label, critics love band. Interesting behind the scenes stuff that doesn't make you want to ralph like watching that stupid VH-1 show.

This documentary comes as a nice surprise to anyone who has been following the Uncle Tupelo/Sun Volt/Wilco chapter of rock n' roll history being quietly written in the Midwest for the past 15 years. For anyone who is a fan, the film is a must-see. For general fans of rock n' roll it offers a handy introduction to one of the few interesting rock bands in this parched musical era. Judged solely as a documentary film it is a half-hearted effort that scores some points but ultimately doesn't carry its own weight.

First the good: the cinematography, a grainy black and white that is probably 16mm film, is often breathtaking...even magical. In some scenes we can't really tell if that is Chicago snow falling, or simply the film stock being blown out, but the dreamy, low-tech look perfectly complements the musical style and tradition of Jeff Tweedy's aching folk-pop music. The sound recording is also excellent; while not offering the huge sonic experience of, say, the re-released Dolby 5.1 version of the Last Waltz, the sound crew of I Am Trying to Break Your Heart did a wonderful job of capturing the raw, pulsing sounds of a band at work, both in the recording studio and on the stages of nightclubs. Finally the filmmakers do a real service to music fans by including generous amounts of footage of the band at work in the studio writing, rehearsing, recording and mixing songs. It's exciting to see an album taking shape before your eyes in this manner.

Despite these strengths the documentary as storytelling gets lost when it drifts away from the recording studio and into the politics of the music business. One thing you can usually count on with documentary filmmaking is that the good guys and the bad guys are allowed to fully reveal themselves in all their naked glory or shameless depravity before our very eyes, but this movie seems to have its moral compass all screwed up. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say: it doesn't have a moral compass but rather buys too easily into the idea that everyone associated with Wilco is a "good guy", and everyone else is villainous.

In fact the band's manager, Tony Margherita, who is marginally awarded the role of narrator of the story, comes off as the kind of shameless huckster who makes the music business such an embarrassing behind-the-scenes spectacle. Early in the film he crows the music biz mantra of "taking Wilco to the next level" with such a moronic, repetitive gusto that one wants to stuff a tambourine in his mouth. When Reprise Records rejects the new Wilco album (ironically because they *don't* think it will take the band to the next level) he changes gears and starts talking about artistic integrity. But when Reprise drops the band from its roster he leads the band into a lucrative contract with... Reprise's sister label, Nonesuch, presumably because they offered the most money.

This should be funny, revelatory stuff, but the filmmakers seem so enamored with the band that they are unable to identify the crassness of this whole story arc, and in fact end the film with the schmoozy manager chortling about how he got Warner Brothers (parent company of Reprise and Nonesuch) to buy the same album twice. Ironic, yes, but the decision to stay in the Warner Bros. family while adopting a tone of moral superiority to their enterprise is nothing but hypocrisy.

Worse, when Tweedy kicks Jay Bennett out of the band midway through filming, the movie essentially takes a brief interlude to mock the departed songwriter. While Mr. Bennett indeed turns in an appalling interview after the incident ("there are some real power issues within Wilco" he puffs like some politically correct academic), the film isn't content to let him make a fool of himself, but rather goes to each member of the band and invites them to insult their departed bandmate on screen. When manager Margherita smugly asserts that Bennett had worn out his welcome with Wilco your skin crawls: it's like Fredo has been sent out on the boat at the end of The Godfather, Part 2 to meet his untimely fate.

The filmmakers all in all seem a wholly unreliable judge of character. Rolling Stone editor David Fricke is treated as an oracle of wisdom, but comes off as the kind of phony that rock n' roll used to be about mocking, not worshipping. I watch this parade of inauthentic politicians rolling across the screen and remember the iconoclastic fire of Bob Dylan in "Don't Look Back", and it's hard to feel anything except depressed by the state of American music in 2002.

All in all this is a movie to see if you love rock music, both because Wilco *matters*, and because it is a grim portrait of the rot at the heart of the American music industry: a rot that isn't just in the office towers of the record labels, as this movie would have you believe, but is much, much closer to home, where the damage it does is more subtle, but more irreparable. Maybe it isn't Warner Brothers fault. Maybe Wilco should heed the words: Doctor, heal thyself.