Good concept, poorly executed.

This is a dark and sometimes deeply uncomfortable drama

I enjoyed watching this film and would recommend other to give it a try , (as I am) but this movie, although enjoyable to watch due to the better than average acting fails to add anything new to its storyline that is all too familiar to these types of movies.

Great example of an old-fashioned, pure-at-heart escapist event movie that doesn't pretend to be anything that it's not and has boat loads of fun being its own ludicrous self.

Film director Stephen Kijak's film is to be commended for never descending into minutia on Engel's life. In fact, virtually nothing, after the initial information on Engle's youth, is mentioned of his private life. This is refreshing, for it lifts the film well above any claims of being a vanity documentary. The negative is that Engel's 'art' is simply not good. Yes, he had a deep, powerful bass voice, and it was put to great effect in the early recordings. But, listening to his latest efforts, not only are his lyrics bad (Jim Morrison, Walker is not, even as some talking heads bizarrely link him to T.S. Eliot, Samuel Beckett, and James Joyce)- in a jumbled sense, but they border on PC and the 'music,' such as it is, is random and found noise, not harmonies and melodies. To top it off, Engel's voice is a dim echo of its former glory, often descending into what seems like a parody of some local 1960s television station's late night horror film show host's attempt at singing to a bad B film.Initially, the film plays out like a mockumentary, but the infusion of vintage television clips dashes that surmise. What is not dashed is the reality of how limited the 'art' of Engel's music. Great art does art well. Visionary art pushes boundaries, as well. But, to push the boundaries back, the artist has to stay anchored to the extremes, at least of the art form. In the case of music, this means non-banal lyrics, damning predictable percussion, varying melodies and other such extensions. Simply going off into a corner and wailing, or grunting, is not an extension of music nor singing, as arts. Of course, that is hyperbole, but Walker's latest efforts smack of a phenomenon known in the arts- that of the spent artist realizing he'll never duplicate his earlier successes, so he just preens and deranges, then hides behind the veneer of his earlier success, as a 'genius,' or the like (and it's no shock to know Engel worships the Beatniks). Engel simply never expands the boundaries of music- pop nor otherwise, even as talking heads damn many of the progressive rock acts of the 1970s that went far beyond Walker's experimentalism: Yes, King Crimson, and others.Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (the title taken from an Engel song) is a well wrought and exquisitely structured film on an ultimately interesting subject, but that subject is not Engel nor music nor art, but the peregrinations of the spent artist in search of that golden nipple needed to nurse him into senescence's uneasy drool. Now, if only director Kijack can find an artist and subject worthy of his talents, the film will be a landmark in the genre.

SCOTT WALKER 30 CENTURY MAN investigates the career of one of the most enigmatic musical icons of the last hundred years. Noel Scott Engel started his musical career as part of an American 'Mop Top' band which broke big in England, yet pretty much was ignored elsewhere. At one point, The Walker Brothers English fan base was larger than that of The Beatles. As the band's popularity waned, Scott became a solo artist, and seemed to channel his approach to popular music through the Social Realism Movement popularized by the works of English film director, Ken Loach, playwright, John Osborne, and even, Tennessee Williams. His sound is truly distinctive and extraordinary, and manages to straddle the line between Pop and Avant Garde. Yet, his musical influence is far-ranging, and can be heard in the work of such diverse contemporary artists as Brian Eno, David Bowie, Radiohead, Morrissey, Julian Cope, and dozens more. Throughout the documentary, Walker is very open and forthright about his music, but almost nothing is mentioned about his personal life. Obviously, this was his intention, yet the film left me wondering what the last forty years has been like for this idiosyncratic figure.

Scott Walker is an American composer and poet (original name Noel Scott Engel) who has lived in England for many years. Originally he was a handsome Sixties pop star who sang with the group The Walker Brothers in a "warm, sepulchral baritone" (as Eddie Cockrell puts it in 'Variety') that made young girls scream and, in England, was more popular than the Beatles. After a couple of albums the group disbanded (though reuniting for a while in the Seventies), and Scott went solo. Gradually over many years, moving haltingly at first from covers of other people's songs to increasingly complex and personal compositions in albums a decade apart, Walker has established a reputation as a unique musical figure focused on recording, not public performance, which the screaming girls taught him to hate. His haunting, surreal, emotionally demanding pieces, all the way back to the Sixties, have influenced Radiohead and The Cocteau Twins. Vocally admired by Sting, Brian Eno, and David Bowie (executive producer here), he receives on screen testimonials from Ute Lemper, Jarvis Cocker, Lulu, Marc Almond, Damon Albarn, Allison Goldfrapp, and Gavin Friday.Kijak's film is interesting enough to attract new converts to this cult artist. It's also a pleasure to watch because it's so well made. It's convincing, elegant, revealing, seamless, and frequently quite beautiful.The film begins by teasing viewers with the historically reclusive nature of the man ever since he gave up public performance some time in the Seventies. Then it springs its bombshell: Scott has consented to a lengthy interview for the film. '30 Century Man' is not so much a life as a life-in-art. We learn little about personal matters such as depression and a drinking problem but everything about his style and imagination and the stories of the individual albums. The beauty of the film is as a portrait of musical evolution describing changing ensembles, recording methods, and moods from album to album, the latest many years apart. It's also the story of an artist influencing other artists, rather than prancing before the public.Before we get to that, there's enough footage of TV performances to show that The Walker Brothers (who were neither brothers nor named Walker) were a conventional cute singing package. M.O.R. slop, you might say, especially considering their peak year of 1965 was the time when Dylan released 'Highway 61 Revisited.' On his own, Scott wanted to do Jacques Brel, the angst-ridden, sweaty French songwriter. He did Brel smoothly, in English, with that mellifluous baritone of his.Later when the solo compositions emerge, he moves further and further toward art compositions with horror-show moodiness and highly crafted sound landscapes. The latest songs some say are not songs at all but something else, haunting tone poems with words born, Scott says, out of a life of bad dreams. Some of the images used to illustrate later compositions, however, still put one in a Seventies mood, though the dreamy floating patterns, colors, and texts have nothing dated about them. Maybe even the mature Scott Walker style grows out of a strain of Seventies English rock impressionism. (That may partly explain Walker's remaining in the UK, but he was also in love with Europe through its films.) The lyrics, often floated dreamily on screen with lines in space, are occasionally quite strange.One suave passage traces key songs from all Walker's albums through time to show he did interesting work even early in his solo career. While the music is playing multiple screens show musicians listening and commenting on the work.Though the film doesn't say so, Walker's lyrics from the Eighties on, when the albums became less frequent, are stronger and freer.'Cripple fingers hit the muezzin yells/some had Columbine some had specks/Cripple fingers hit the rounds of shells/some had clinging vine some had specksThe good news you cannot refuse/The bad news is there is no news' ('Patriot,' a single, 1995)Excerpts we hear (and partly see) show Walker is adventurous and extravagant (but a deft and calmly focused director) in studio orchestrations, using lots of strings and building a large wooden box to get just the right percussion sound. Another time a percussionist must hit a large slab of meat. Doing the music for Leos Carax's film 'Pola X,' he has a large studio full of loud percussionists. Classical musicians are instructed to play violins to imitate the sound of German planes coming in to bomb English towns--not an easy day's work. It's all very intriguing, suggesting a personal musical world that's scary, but still welcomes you to come in.

I have been a fan of Scott Walker's work since I was a girl and have continued to follow his work, following all the strange twists and turns his career went on and I have been following this film carefully since I heard it was being made and when I finally saw it I was mesmerized. Scott is so present in the film and the music is given the priority, not his personal life. I think it's a real achievement to get someone like Scott to open up and the film seemed so intimate without dispelling any of the great mystery that swirls around him, which is part of his mystique, it's part of why we love him, in addition to his amazing voice and music! I happen to like a lot of the artists in the film and thought their impressions of his music were touching, honest and sometimes funny and insightful...but they never detract, and Scott is really the center of gravity in a film that presents his music in such a visually stunning way, I can't imagine anyone not falling under its spell. I recommend it for any fan of Scott Walker's music and any fan of music at all, he's one of the greats that needs to be fully recognized the world over, and I think this film will help that happen.