Paul Clarke’s documentary biopic of Midnight Oil impresses as a powerful antidote to all those rock ‘n’ roll chronicles featuring internecine rivalries, acrimonious breakups and drug-induced exploits in trashed hotel rooms.Tony Mott
This doesn’t mean that it’s a dull and anodyne tale. Far from it. For a start, there’s the transformation that occurred when Garrett bounded on to a stage. Here was a well-spoken law graduate who would, in later life, put on a suit and tie and practise the art of political compromise with some success. Yet in his role as the Oils’ lead singer, he became a manic bundle of jerks and twitches as if possessed by an android gone rogue.
Rotsey, who was endowed with a highly tuned “bullshit detector”, was the glue that held it all together and Garrett, a few years older than the others, brought his pulsing energy to the mix.