“When the Music’s Over” – Jim Morrison: The Genius of an Unsung Filmmaker

A Book Review by Jonathan Monovich.

Author Fabrizio Federico argues that Morrison’s ultimate goal was to encourage self-discovery and help listeners think freely in an era defined by chaos.”

Though best best known as the singer of The Doors, Jim Morrison’s tumultuous life could have ended up quite differently had he pursued his original yearning to become a filmmaker. Before embarking on a path to musical superstardom, Morrison graduated from UCLA in 1965. Morrison’s tenure at UCLA was during Colin Young’s famous reign as the head of the film school, helping usher in the first generation of students turned directors and transforming film studies into respected academia. Discouraged by the widespread criticism he received from his professors and classmates, Morrison did not become the renowned director that his classmate Francis Ford Coppola ultimately became. Uncoincidentally, though, Morrison’s “The End” would later score the unforgettably evocative introduction to Coppola’s masterpiece, Apocalypse Now (1979).

An exploration of Morrison’s cinematic roots and fondness for the artform, Fabrizio Federico’s self-published book, Jim Morrison: The Genius of an Unsung Filmmaker, dissects the influence of cinema on the musician’s body of work and his aspirations to return to filmmaking during the final years preceding his premature death. Though Morrison succumbed to “staring into the sun and mocking it” (a phrase written by his UCLA classmate, Max Schwartz) and his life was one that can be best described as self-destructive, Federico’s writing suggests that his intellectual curiosity was undeniable. With Morrison well versed in literature, poetry, and philosophy, Federico argues that that artist’s ultimate goal was to encourage self-discovery and help listeners think freely in an era defined by chaos. Cleverly, Federico analyzes the cinematic quality of Morrison’s storytelling in his songwriting as a talent that would have likely translated well on the silver screen. Specifically, Federico compares the thematic preoccupations of the album, L.A. Woman, to the film noir genre. He also associates the album cover for Strange Days to life’s circus that Fellini visualizes in 8 ½ (1963). Federico also recognizes that the Doors were among the first bands to work in video with songs like “the Unknown Soldier,” therefore making a transition to film logical for Morrison.

Looking past the music, Federico draws upon the reasoning for Morrison’s fascination with filmmaking. His passion for the medium was so strong that he frequently wrote about it in his poetry; one of the most famous examples is “The Movie,” where Morrison equates the afterlife to a never-ending movie going experience chronicling our past that we are forced to watch on replay. In it, he poses the question “did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?” Federico also concludes that Morrison’s love for film also stems from its ability to influence the human consciousness, surmising that there was some humanity to Morrison beneath his bad boy persona and that his understanding of human emotion would have been a natural fit for filmmaking. Federico also points out that Morrison was fond of acting and theorizes what his performances may have looked like in the many scrapped features he was to appear in that were never made.

Federico analyzes the cinematic quality of Morrison’s storytelling in his songwriting as a talent that would have likely translated well on the silver screen.”

While Morrison’s influences are vast, his iconic look, stage presence, and imagery used in his songs all circle back to cinema. Federico’s research reveals that Jim Morrison, the rockstar, is a combination of movements inspired by Marlene Dietrich and a rebellious spirit/leather and snakeskin clothes à la Marlon Brando in The Wild One (1953)and The Fugitive Kind (1960). A relatively new art form at the time of his studies, Federico brings to light that Morrison’s attraction to film was due to its modernity. With hindsight, this seems unsurprising given that the possibilities seemed endless for young filmmakers in the 1960s.

As his insightful study of Morrison continues, Federico recalls that he did not shy from experimentation in his student filmmaking. He served as the sound man for his classmate, Alex Prisadsky’s, short Five Situations for Camera, Recorder and People (1965) and directed a unmemorable short of his own titled First Love (1964). Both can be found on YouTube. Most notable is the commotion Morrison created with a now lost, but not forgotten, project. Morrison’s untitled student film turned heads with provocative imagery. It’s an artifact that will never be seen but Federico’s inclusion of descriptions of the film by both Morrison and Morrison’s friend, Paul Ferrara, help illustrate what “Mr. Mojo Risin” was trying to achieve—an essay on the film process. With this being said, Morrison’s controversial student film is recreated by Oliver Stone in his biopic, The Doors (1991). Interestingly, Federico calls out that Stone’s original plan for Platoon (1986) was to have Morrison star in a much different version of the script then titled Break. Stone obviously was forced to change his screenplay following Morrison’s death in 1971 at the age of twenty-seven in Paris.

Aware that Morrison was a cineaste, Federico theorizes that had he not died so young he would have thrived in Paris due to the city’s immense love for film. Afterall, both film criticism and film itself were born in France. Were it not for Morrison’s self-inflicted downfall, Federico is likely right. Just as the Rolling Stones collaborated with Jean-Luc Godard on 1 + 1 (1968), it doesn’t seem improbable that Morrison would have done something similar.It is written by Federico that Morrison was privy to the French New Wave and was friends with Agnès Varda and Jacques Demy. The couple was working with Morrison to screen the film prints of his few cinematic efforts Feast of Friends (1969), a tour documentary, and HWY: An American Pastoral (1969), an American road movie shot in a European fashion, at the Cinémathèque Française just before his death. Now knowing this, my visit to both Morrison’s grave in the Père Lachaise Cemetery and the Cinémathèque Française in the same afternoon while studying in Paris just a few years ago seems oddly haunting yet appropriate. The spirit of Morrison continues to thrive in Paris as I was even able to find a copy of his poetry collection, The Lords and the New Creatures,from a book vendor along the Seine that winter.

Though much of the cinematic potential of Morrison is left to speculation, the arguments made in Jim Morrison: The Genius of an Unsung Filmmaker are fairly convincing and leaves one wondering what could have happened if he became a director.”

Both Feast of Friends and HWY can be found online, though HWY has not seen an official release. Restored excerpts from HWY can be seen in Tom DiCillo’s (Living in Oblivion) well-made documentary When You’re Strange (2009). A film about a hitchhiker aimlessly wandering throughout America, HWY draws upon Morrison’s reported allure to the road; the film’s iconography is likened to Steven Spielberg’s Amblin’ (1968). Federico also provides a well-written minute by minute breakdown of the fifty minute film, discusses its poetic qualities, and advises that the film best serves as a complement to the Doors’ famous song “Riders on the Storm.” HWY was apparently even shown at a Jim Morrison Film Festival in Canada alongside Feast of Friends and some of the Doors’ music videos.

All in all, Federico’s literary outlook on Morrison’s short-lived film career is well-documented and makes an interesting read for a subject that one would think would have little to offer at first glance. Though much of the cinematic potential of Morrison is left to speculation, the arguments made in Jim Morrison: The Genius of an Unsung Filmmaker are fairly convincing and leaves one wondering what could have happened if he became a director. Though the book sometimes gets sidetracked from its core outlook on Morrison’s relation to film, its occasional meandering does not overly divert from its unique focus. Federico makes the most of what material is available on the topic and writes from a place of sincerity. An experimental filmmaker himself, Federico even declares that his work is personally influenced by Morrison and attempts to pick up where he left off. If nothing else, readers will walk away with a desire to throw on a Doors record and ponder the possibilities of Morrison as a director.

Jonathan Monovich is a Chicago-based writer focusing on film analysis, history, and theory. His work has been featured in Film International, Film Matters, Bright Lights Film Journal, and PopMatters.