Misunderstood Masterpieces 04.08.08: Tommy

Posted by Will Helm on 04.08.2008

…or, A Rock Opera I Wish I Never Had to See or Hear

Way back in 1966, Pete Townshend, guitarist and main songwriter for my favorite band of all time, The Who, coined the term "rock opera." Referring to a collection of rock songs recounting a central theme or storyline, the "rock opera" was first fully realized by The Who on the sort-of title track of their second album, A Quick One. The tune "A Quick One While He's Away," though only nine minutes long, told the tale of a girl cheating on her boyfriend while he's off somewhere . . . and all this three full years before Joey Greco was even born!

A few years later, in 1968, relatively unknown British band The Pretty Things – a spin-off of an early iteration of The Rolling Stones – released S.F. Sorrow, an early attempt at filling an album with a rock opera. Of course, this was just a precursor to the first – and, some may argue, best – true rock opera, once again composed by The Who: 1969's Tommy. Telling the story of a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who's a whiz at pinball and who harbors a dark secret regarding his parents, Tommy was a blockbuster album featuring a bevy of hits and, more importantly, came to be considered one of the greatest and most important rock albums ever.

Unsurprisingly, as the rock opera lends itself to performance, a film was commissioned . . . in 1975, at the tail end of The Who's power and influence. Adapted and directed by outré auteur Ken Russell, Tommy brings together a slew of stars from the realms of film and music, with some quite surprising appearances. However, all the star power in the world doesn't necessarily mean that the film is good; that's for me to decide. Or, more appropriately, if it's a Misunderstood Masterpiece. Let's find out!

Apparently, judging by the opening of the picture, Tommy isn't just a blind, deaf, and dumb boy, but also a ninja, as he stares at the sunset at the top of a mountain. How very Zen. Later, Tommy (Robert Powell), who doesn't seem to be blind, deaf, or dumb, hangs out with ‘60s sex-kitten Ann-Margret on a windy cliff side. The wind must kick up a lot of dust, as Tommy and Ann-Margret later retire to a waterfall, where, under the symbolic deluge, they get it on. Tommy isn't a jerk, though, as he's nice enough to snuggle under a tree afterward.

That night, Tommy and Ann-Margret put a capper on their busy day by dancing at a ball . . . until Tommy is called off to be a secret agent. Or something like that; it's all in how he's dressed, honestly. He's got a proto-James Bond thing going. Tommy, for reasons totally unexplained, takes Ann-Margret from the ball to a tour of a burned up cityscape, which I'm sure symbolizes something. Maybe it's Tommy's raging passion. Or just World War II. Or both. Later, after Tommy hops on a train, which transforms into a plane – hey . . . wait a minute; Astrotrain transformed into a space shuttle, not a plane, Ann-Margret wanders around an abandoned house and sleeps in a cage. Well, she's evidently into some kinky stuff.

Somewhere over Europe, Tommy gets shot down and Ann-Margret, to support herself, has to dress all dumpy and work at a ball-bearing factory. She isn't there for long, however, as she gets a telegram from some grimy woman and then she ends up in the hospital. It's good that she wound up there, as Ann-Margret gives birth, while the nurses and the doctor serenade her . . . and sing about V-E Day. I think this got ripped-off from the never-before-released Broadway opus War!: The Musical. Critics said "It'll blow you away!"

A few years later, a military guy places a wreath on the statue of a winged phallus, while Ann-Margret and her son, little Tommy (Barry Winch) look on mournfully. Well, Ann-Margret does; little Tommy just looks confused. After the ceremony, little Tommy and Ann-Margret go to some camp out in the English countryside, where some greasy guy (Oliver Reed) greets the guests. Later, after Ann-Margret and Tommy get settled, Tommy goes swimming while the greasy guy hits on Ann-Margret. Evidently, the greasy guy works quickly, as he goes from flirting to fondling Ann-Margret's legs. Afterward, they dance. Literally; that wasn't a euphemism for sex.

After Tommy and Ann-Margret's stay at the camp concludes, they leave with the greasy guy in tow, as he's Tommy's new "uncle." Once at home, the greasy guy and Ann-Margret sing about their impending life together . . . until, in the middle of the night, zombie older Tommy returns from the dead! After zombie older Tommy visits his son in his bed, he pays a visit to Ann-Margret and the greasy guy, who slays the undead soldier with a well-swing lamp shot. Sadly, throughout the tragic tableau, little Tommy was watching from the wings, so Ann-Margret and the greasy guy sing to him and tell him not to testify against him in a court of law. Or, since this is England, I suppose there'd be an inquest first. Little Tommy, perhaps suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder, finally lives up to his billing and goes blind, deaf, and dumb. Or just autistic. Don't worry, though; Jenny McCarthy can cure him!

Please excuse me, but here is where I have to take a bit of umbrage with the film. On the album, it is inferred that Tommy's father comes back from being presumed dead in World War I and kills Tommy's mother's new boyfriend. The same happens in the musical, although the setting is pushed forward to World War II. Here, Tommy's mother's new boyfriend kills Tommy's biological father . . . the biological father Tommy never knew and was presumed dead in World War II. Why the boyfriend would even kill a man who's supposed to be dead is beyond me, while I can see some logic in Tommy's father killing the man who he believes is invading his bed (and his woman). Therefore, the whole premise of the film just breaks down due to this modification in plotline.

Perhaps either to test if Tommy is really deaf, dumb, and blind, or because they need a breather from the recent murder of Tommy's biological father, Ann-Margret and the greasy guy take Tommy to an amusement park. Because there's no better place for a deaf, dumb, and blind boy – or one suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder or autism – than an amusement park. The greasy guy discovers this, much to his chagrin, when Tommy wanders around aimlessly in an arcade before having a seizure . . . in his mind. Or Tommy's just trying out for a spot on Yo Gabba Gabba. Tommy finally ends up getting stuck in a hall of mirrors; though, if he's blind, to him it's just a hall. Somehow, moments later, Christmas happens, but little autistic Tommy isn't digging the scene, so he just sits in a toy car and chills. Everyone else, however, sings about Tommy being damned or something. Of course, he isn't the one who committed murder moments earlier in the film.

Somehow, later, cute little Tommy transforms into Roger Daltrey and he, accompanied by Ann-Margret and the greasy guy, go to an Eric Clapton show at a church devoted to Marilyn Monroe. While Clapton sings and looks as though he was paid in heroin, the crowd takes pills and drinks Johnnie Walker Red. After everyone pays their respects, Tommy ruins the service when he accidentally breaks the statue of Marilyn the crowd was so recently venerating. Oops. Nice goin', Tommy. While Ann-Margret and Tommy are busy cleaning up their mess in the church, the greasy guy retires to a sleazy alley, where he hangs out with Tina Turner, who later offers to spend a little private time with Tommy. The greasy guy obliges, so Tina Turner drags Tommy up to her apartment, where she gets dressed in a suit of armor, making her Darth Tina. Somehow, in another one of those symbolic moments, the armor opens and Tommy comes inside – literally, perverts, where a bevy of syringes inject him with a mystery liquid. Somehow, the mystery liquid causes Tommy to transform into zombie older Tommy and then into naked Jesus Tommy . . . and then, finally, a skeleton and snakes. Ooh; is the next transformation into Alice Cooper? That's honestly the next logical step from a skeleton and snakes.

After Tommy's amazing journey, the greasy guy goes to the apartment and finds him passed out . . . and Tina Turner having a facial seizure. OK; whatever, movie. Later that evening, Ann-Margret and the greasy guy prepare for a night on the town while singing – and debating – over whether or not it's a good idea to leave Tommy with his punk cousin (Paul Nicholas). Apparently, Ann-Margret and the greasy guy decide it's fine, so they abandon Tommy . . . and his cousin starts torturing him and singing about it the whole time. Later, Tommy's cousin would be hired to run the prison camp at Guantanamo Bay. Tommy, remarkably, survives, but then, on another night, Ann-Margret and the greasy guy elect to leave Tommy alone with his creepy uncle, Keith Moon. With Ann-Margret and the greasy guy out of the picture, Keith Moon reveals himself – pun certainly intended – to be more than just a drummer and drunkard, but a molester as well. The fun continues throughout the night, until the greasy guy returns home – dressed as Dick Tracy – to set Keith Moon's newspaper on fire.

Later that week, while Ann-Margret and the greasy guy argue about Tommy's care and welfare, Tommy wanders off to a junkyard. Once there, Tommy tackles a few stoves – although, since he is blind, how would he know they're not just big metal boxes? – before somehow finding a working pinball machine. While Tommy works the bumpers with expert precision, the police – with Ann-Margret and the greasy guy along for the ride – find him . . . and Tommy becomes a pinball phenomenon. And all this just because a music critic liked pinball. Seriously; Pete Townshend supposedly added the whole "pinball" theme to Tommy just to appease a recalcitrant rock critic. Anyway, while Ann-Margret and the greasy guy get rich off Tommy's fame, Tommy takes on Elton John – and his egregious boots – in a pinball match for the ages. Tommy, unsurprisingly – as the plot is about him and not Elton John and his egregious boots, wins, and the crowd goes wild!

Meanwhile, back at home, Ann-Margret watches the match on television and gets drunk on champagne, which somehow eerily transforms her into Lindsay Lohan. After Ann-Margret freaks out at the transformation and tries, in vain, to change the channel, she smashes the television with the champagne bottle, which causes it to shoot bubbles at her. Before the scene can become a ‘60s erotic fantasy, baked beans and chocolate sauce issue forth from the broken television screen. Apparently, judging by this scene, Tommy invented "sploshing." This becomes more evident when Ann-Margret starts lasciviously humping a giant, phallic pillow.

Ann-Margret's sploshing fun is rudely interrupted by the greasy guy, who comes into the room to announce that he's found a doctor who could very well cure Tommy's affliction . . . and that doctor is Jack Nicholson. Who knew Tommy would have a connection to Head? Although this isn't just any version of Jack Nicholson – which is usually, judging by his average performance, just Jack Nicholson . . . this is Singin' Jack Nicholson! Singin' Jack Nicholson, in order to help Tommy with his autism – or just as an excuse to take Ann-Margret and the greasy guy's money, gives Tommy electroshock therapy. Since Singin' Jack Nicholson is still Jack Nicholson, he makes sure to flirt with Ann-Margret the whole time. Unfortunately for all involved, the only change in Tommy is that now he's wearing a white outfit, rather than his usual clothes. Whatever, movie.

Back at home, Ann-Margret, frustrated with Tommy's disease wasting her time and money, dances provocatively for Tommy and then whips him with her hair. Whoa . . . it's like a standing lapdance. Tommy must not tip well enough in return for the Oedipal bump and grind, so Ann-Margret throws him through a mirror . . . which just happens to be a window. Luckily, Tommy falls into a swimming pool and the combined shock of nearly dying and the cold water cures him of his autism! I'll have to call Jenny McCarthy and let her know it's just that easy. Tommy, finally released from his ailment, sings a touching song about being free; meanwhile, the New York Rangers win the Stanley Cup.

If anyone gets that reference, I'll be impressed.

Tommy, celebrating his freedom, runs in front of a blue screen and, apparently, through the help of the blue screen, a volcano. A little later, Ann-Margret climbs some rocks and finds Tommy at the top of the precipice, remarkably still alive and not burned to a crisp from the molten magma. Tommy, now fully conscious, has flashbacks to earlier in the movie – including things he'd have no way of remembering – but, luckily for him, Ann-Margret is on hand to fill in the blanks. She also reveals that, somehow, pinball is a "fevah." Blue Öyster Cult would be proud. Tommy, perhaps believing that Ann-Margret is the one with the "fevah," throws her jewelry into the sea and then he tries to drown her. Well, that's one way of dousing a "fevah."

In the aftermath of nearly murdering his mother – though they do reconcile, Tommy becomes a media icon and, as such, some little girl (Victoria Russell . . . the director's daughter) becomes obsessed with him. I guess she read about him in Tiger Beat or something. Anyway, though the girl's reverend father totally forbids tracking down Tommy and probably having his babies, her mother doesn't really care one way or the other . . . so the girl elects to get glammed up and sneaks out of the house. The girl makes her way to a Tommy concert, where the crowd sits bored through the opening acts – wow, it's just like a real rock show! – until Tommy hits the stage and the crowd goes wild! I didn't know this movie was filmed in Cincinnati! The girl tries to invent stage-diving, but it goes horribly awry and she ends up in the hospital. Years later, apparently, the girl – who doesn't age at all – gets married to Frankenstein. No credit? No problem. He's Frankenstein.

Elsewhere, a gang fight breaks out near a cliff, but Tommy preposterously flies in on a hang-glider to bring peace among the bikers. After settling the differences between the two gangs, Tommy moves on to random churchgoers and egregiously pompadoured gamblers. Tommy invites them all over his house; I guess his folks aren't home and he's having a kegger. Actually, it's worse than that, as Tommy treats all his guests to white and green food, which can only mean one thing: it's a Nilbog feast! "Tommy" spelled backwards is "Ymmot"! Hmm . . . that almost sounds like a Lovecraftian demon.

Sometime later, Ann-Margret does an infomercial for Tommy's religion; though Ann-Margret has star power, it can't be as good as the infomercial for the Magic Bullet. Meanwhile, at the religion's headquarters – L. Ron Hubbard would be proud, Keith Moon plays the organ with his feet and Tommy does jazz hands, much to the delight of the congregation. Tommy then teaches them his ways and wisdom through the power of pinball – it is a "fevah," after all – while the worshippers are deaf, dumb, and blind with souvenir trinkets. Somehow, the worshippers elect to rebel instead of follow blindly – no pun intended, so they smash up the pinball machines and kill Ann-Margret and the greasy guy for no particular reason. Tommy, unsurprisingly, freaks out and goes swimming . . . and then he walks into the sun, which is just a callback to the very beginning of the movie. Oh no; I hope the movie doesn't loop around itself.

Luckily for me, it doesn't, which is a good thing, as Tommy is one of the more convoluted films I've seen in a while. Much like many other movies, Tommy isn't actively bad, but its penchant for weirdness – as well as oft pointless celebrity appearances – dampens any storytelling within the movie. There is some semblance of a plot, but it has more holes than Swiss cheese. In addition, there's always that nagging feeling, throughout the whole film, that something very important is going on – mainly demonstrated through the rampant symbolism in the film, but the film is too inscrutable to reveal what that "something" is. Tommy isn't terrible – and the music, though mostly sung by the actors, rather than the band or actual singers, is still great – but it certainly ranks up as a Misunderstood Masterpiece.

Join me next week as I tick off every pretentious stoner out there with my last rock musical. See you then!