‘Pavements’ review: a surrealist love letter to the ’90s indie titans

D irector Alex Ross Perry (Her Smell) takes a bracingly original approach to the music documentary in this portrait of the iconic 1990s indie band Pavement. Blending fact and fiction in intriguing and unexpected ways, the film is consistently entertaining and can be enjoyed whether you’re a longtime fan of the band or a total newcomer.

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Formed in Stockton, California in 1989 and fronted by Stephen Malkmus (vocals and guitar), the band cultivated their own brand of disaffected cool in the ’90s, releasing five albums and 10 EPs before splitting up in 1999. A successful series of reunion gigs followed in 2010 and Pavements catches up with the band in 2022, as they prepare for a second international tour.

However, that standard rock doc approach soon splinters into something completely different, as the film reveals that the band are also preparing for a Pavement museum exhibit that will be launched alongside a series of up-and-coming bands performing Pavement covers. If that wasn’t enough, the film follows Perry casting, writing and directing a jukebox musical based on the band, while also helping shape a Hollywood Pavement biopic, featuring Stranger Things‘ Joe Keery as Malkmus and Jason Schwartzman as the band’s manager.

Perry’s skilful editing intercuts between those different strands as the lines between fact and fiction become increasingly blurred. The biopic, for example – entitled Range Life, after one of the band’s songs – is completely fake, but Perry shot several scenes for it and uses them to illustrate various moments in the band’s career.

Similarly, both the museum exhibit and the musical were real to a degree, but much more short-lived than Pavements suggests, effectively mounted just for the benefit of the movie and a small, select real-life audience. However, the cumulative effect is impressive, showcasing a degree of creativity and artistic interpretation that feels in-keeping with the band. The museum exhibit scenes in particular feel like a fanzine come to life.

Perry’s approach pays dividends in other ways too. The behind-the-scenes footage (some of it scripted, some of it not) frequently features Keery preparing for his role as Malkmus, and becoming a little obsessed, whether it’s perfectly recreating 1990s photographs of the singer (an original way of presenting archive material) or, in the film’s most obviously mockumentary moment, taking a photograph of Malkmus’ tongue, so as to work on the accent properly with his voice coach.

Perry doesn’t entirely eschew traditional music doc conventions though, as the film still makes room for some great archive footage including Malkmus giving some super awkward MTV interviews (“You look really uncomfortable”, notes the host). There are also clips from their infamous 1995 Lollapalooza performance, which ended with them storming off stage after getting pelted by mud by the audience.

In short, this is a thrillingly creative music documentary that serves as a loving tribute to the band and the sense of fun that Perry is having behind the camera is both palpable and infectious.