Watching Pavements is like reading a love letter stylized as a ransom note. Dallas audiences will have the opportunity to read that love letter themselves when the film screens at the Texas Theatre June 17 - 19.
Writer/director Alex Ross Perry has channeled his love for the ‘90s band Pavement into a film that fuses archival footage with recordings from the band rehearsing for a sold-out 2022 reunion tour.
Perry throws that amalgam of footage into a blender through various techniques: Joe Keery (Stranger Things) parodies method actors while “preparing” for a role as Pavement lead singer Stephen Malkmus in a more traditional Pavement biopic. Perry then uses “footage” from that fake biopic (complete with a “For Your Consideration” graphic), spoofing other biographical films like Elvis (2022) and Bohemian Rhapsody (2018).
Additionally, the film incorporates a Pavement jukebox-style musical and footage captured at a museum exhibition that Perry staged called "Pavements 1933-2022: A Pavement Museum,” featuring performances by Soccer Mommy and Snail Mail. If that all sounds like a lot, it’s because it is a lot.
On paper, Pavements should not work — the film should collapse in on itself like a star going supernova. And yet, Perry manages to keep track of each story device, moving back and forth between them, sometimes using split screen to compare, contrast and transition.
Perry has spoken openly about the influence of Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk (2017) on the structure of the new film. Nolan’s movie has three separate storylines that take place over one week, one day, and one hour, respectively but converge at a specific point in time in the movie. Perry wanted to do something similar with Pavements by building up to a euphoric moment where he cuts between each of his narrative threads as his actors and the band perform Pavement’s “Grounded.”
That may seem overambitious for a project about a slackercore band, but the power of a man with a niche interest cannot be underestimated.
What Perry borrows from Nolan’s film in terms of structure, he infuses with his own sense of playfulness that makes Pavements both sly and entertaining. In addition to the film's structure, he experiments with the sound mix, especially during the aforementioned split-screen segments, as sound for the videos on the right and left of the screen plays from the corresponding speakers.
There is a zaniness to Pavements that is inviting, rather than off-putting.
In terms of filmmaking and presentation, it may be radical and evolutionary, but watching it is also just plain fun. Some of the best jokes in any movie this year can be found in the segments with Joe Keery playing himself, working with a vocal coach to capture Stephen Malkmus’ voice. They discuss “vocal fry,” admire a photo of Malkmus’ throat (from whence, Keery notes, Pavement’s music came), and slowly come undone as Keery realizes he cannot break out of Malkmus’ speech patterns (à la Austin Butler post-Elvis).
At its core, Pavements is an affectionate and chaotic paean to an equally chaotic but beloved band. The film manages to capture the spirit of Pavement’s music while also allowing Perry to experiment with, stretch and explode preconceived notions about music documentaries and biopics.
A film like Pavements, one that defies easy explanation and transcends boundaries, should be right at home with the programming at the Texas Theatre. What’s more, the theater is currently the only venue in Dallas scheduled to play the movie (nearby, it has also screened at the Regal Fossil Creek 11 in Fort Worth).
That means the three upcoming showings later this month may be your only opportunity to see Pavements on the big screen – this is a movie that deserves the big screen experience. On top of that, it leads nicely into the 2025 Oak Cliff Film Festival the following week, as Perry’s other new film, Videoheaven, a three-hour essay documentary about video stores, will screen on June 29.
