Being an American here in Australia, I am often embarrassed and frustrated by the ingorance that is implied for simply being a “yank.” Many fools here think I’m some flag-waving racist just because I won’t pretend I’m from Canada. Movies like this don’t fucking help my cause one goddamn bit! Yesterday, I spent at least $13 to see the new CSNY tour ‘doco’ (see, I’m getting it!) Deja Vu’ and I spent the better part of 90 minutes feeling as if I was holding back the barf with a freshly used dog dildo.

Apart from some actually enjoyable footage of Young and the boys running through some classic jams, this movie gave me the creeps. The sister-fuckers they interviewed for this film could possibly put the entire French nation to shame. I’ve haven’t seen that many eyes that were a little too close together in the span of an hour-in-a-half since the last time I visited the Matador Records office. The movie jumped all over the place, leaving my dome spinning and aching as it ran the gamut of political jargon to brain- and dick-dead audience member commentary and then to sad footage of jarheads who realized that war was a “bad thing” once they figured out that joining the army during the fucking war in Iraq meant you actually might have to kill a bunch of brown people. They even let some Nickelback fan with a guitar sing a song on the screen for at least twenty minutes with a guitar and for some godforsaken reason he got to sing one of his songs. After nearly a half an hour of this fool’s little anti-war diddy I got to wondering if the band was even still in the movie. It was like, “Oh look, Neil Young is in this movie. Weird.”

(Young with future State Fair runner-up)

Following that though, there was a truly mind liquifying moment when Young and said jarhead got together to “jam” on his war anthem. Young had NO FUCKING IDEA what he was doing, but did pull it together at the end with a few signature guitar noodles and some kind words for Private Pile. I seriously hope to Christ that what was running through Young’s head at that moment was either “someone please get me the fuck out of here!’ or ‘I wonder if I left the stove on?’

As you might have already read, the band did let themselves take it in the ass a bit in this film by not glazing over the fact of their being aging hippie fools with big mouths and big wallets. This is the one thing about this movie I appreciated and give the boys credit for. They let themselves look like old fucks and didn’t try to pull out any Rolling Stones “young ’til I die” faggotry. It was equally enjoyable watching the fine necks of red in Atlanta going ballistic when they whipped out tunes like “Let’s Impeach The President” That leant itself to some interesting footage of grown men in hawaiian shirts being very polite and voicing their opinion to the film crew by way of middle fingers and drooling mouths. Ah, the Home of the Brave, making me proud!

I would higly recommend attending this film if you have karmic issues you’d like to resolve or you have ever wondered what it’s like to only sit through half a movie, as that is about where the enjoyment stops. This movie could’ve been thirty minutes long and I could be sixty minutes happier. Deja VUYAAAH!

UNCLE SHARKEY