By Glenn Dunks
Showtime's Sinéad O'Connor documentary, Nothing Compares, much like the artist herself, is at its best when it is prickly and confronting the hard truths of the world. It is less interesting when conforming to now well-worn standards of this sub-genre, distilling information like a Wikipedia profile. The Irish singer, known for a shaved head and distinctively accented vocals, has had a hard life of struggle and sorrow amid mega-selling hit singles and critically acclaimed albums. In short, she's perfect fodder for a documentary. Director Kathryn Ferguson and editor Mick Mahon find their strongest rhythms when observing the singer’s career through the prism of her homeland and the pull-and-tug of Catholicism, which lingers over her music like a haunting spectre...
Like many musicians, she broke through with a deeply personal and yet accessible (if not exactly radio oriented) album, The Lion and the Cobra. To this day, it remains enveloping and powerful. We get to see the difficult path that lead to that record, released while she was pregnant to the chagrin of her record label. She followed that up with another hit album and one particular song, a cover of a Prince-written track called “Nothing Compares 2 U”, that sent her into the stratosphere of pop stardom.
Most viewers of this movie (and many who will never watch it) surely know what happened next. At a time when many artists were pushing the boundary of what they could and could not get away with (Madonna, Janet Jackson, the burgeoning rap industry), in Sinéad society found an answer of what and who was too far. I almost have to admire Nothing Compares for not once steering itself into a conversation about “cancel culture” when it very easily could have at the moment she gets booed at Madison Square Garden.
O’Connor’s crime wasn’t comparable to Madonna provocatively writhing about in bondage couture or N.W.A. telling us to “fuck tha police”. They were artists who were giving their fanbases exactly what they wanted and doing so with a wink, ultimately engaging as many (if not more) than they violently repelled. When she tore up a picture of the Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live and told the American people to “fight the real enemy”, she had neither a sense of humour or outrageousness of personality to soften it, nor a rabidly devoted fanbase to fall back on. She became a victim of a society that wasn’t ready to confront the evils of the Catholic Church. And even if they were, they were not so in love with her that her career could withstand the fallout.
She would rarely offer audiences any concessions, either. She continued to make music, although only her stellar 2000 album Faith and Courage would approach the sort of commercial sound she had found hits with earlier. It is this friction that is so interesting about her (although as an aside, have you heard her cover of “I Guess the Lord Must Be in New York City” from the You’ve Got Mail soundtrack? It’s sublime). Nothing Compares makes repeated efforts to vouch for O’Connor’s rightful importance and influence, but unfortunately stops short of really showing it beyond a short montage and some long bows drawn to the Trump protests of 2017.
Nothing Compares doesn’t mention much of any of this post-Pope work nor does it navigate too forcefully the many wildly fascinating avenues that her life took. Her conversion to Islam. Her relationships to other musicians like Prince and Miley Cyrus. Perhaps intentionally, there is no mention of her later battles with mental health. But considering all that preceded those issues, it’s hardly surprising. In a film that is pointedly showing what the industry too often did to female artists like her, it’s a curious omission.
Ferguson, making her first feature here, falls too conveniently on more elementary modes of storytelling. Maybe it’s out of respect? It’s a shame whatever the reason, because the parts here that are so interesting all seek to highlight how tired the standard format of a musical biography has become. Sinéad O’Connor deserves something stronger. That Prince’s estate didn’t offer the production the rights to use “Nothing Compares 2 U” begs to open a whole avenue of interrogation as to the poison core of an industry that took and rarely gave back. Instead it goes unmentioned, which feels like a metaphor for a movie that is fine but missing so much.
Rita Baghdadi’s Sirens doesn’t have a central musician as famous as Sinead. Rather, it has Lebanese band Slave to Sirens who are apparently the Middle East's first all-female metal band. The more you know! In this energetic if surprisingly low-key film we watch the bandmates struggle with just about everything you would expect such an outfit to carry on their shoulders. This is just Baghdadi’s second film after the very different My Country No More and with it she has carved an entertaining, if modest, film about female friendship under pressure and a film about the desire for musical fame unlike too many before.
Of course, the very point of Sirens is that Slave to Sirens are not the type of band we normally see in a documentary about a heavy metal band hitting the road. This is Spinal Tap this is not. Based out of Beirut, they play to mostly empty venues on tours that get them nowhere, navigating most prominently difficult sexual pathways instead of drugs and booze and becoming sex gods. In Shery Bechara and Lilas Mayassi, Baghdadi finds two people who are compelling for reasons that you wouldn’t expect from just looking at them.
At just 80 minutes, some of the drama is less deeply examined than you'd hope. The addition of the 2020 port explosion is a curious addition, too. But the ending is particularly lovely as they carve out a space for themselves in a world that would prefer to see them as delicate pop darlings rather than as hardened rockers. This band clearly feel the music deeply, and what we see of their performances is captivating even for non metalheads.
Release: Nothing Compares is on Showtime and available to buy on Amazon. Sirens is in limited release.
Awards chances: Nothing Compares is probably the most likely to garner awards attention, although I feel it would have done better at the Emmys. Its accompanying limited theatrical release suggests they are gunning for Oscar consideration.