Richard Lowenstein’s absorbing, often disquieting documentary on magnetic INXS frontman Michael Hutchence was ten years in the making, and what a labour of love it is. Not just Lowenstein’s for his subject — he made nearly 20 promo videos for the band, dating back to 1984, and arguably thus played a key role in Hutchence’s public persona — but also the singer’s sometimes troubled love for life, and his friends’, family’s and lovers’ abiding fierce affection for him, despite (most often unintended) pain caused.
Piecing together his life via intimate home video footage and candid reminiscences — voice only — from ex-girlfriends, bandmates and close relatives, it’s a bittersweet, melancholy, often dreamlike eulogy. Particularly touching are extended scenes from his ‘controversial’ relationship with then squeaky-clean princess of pop Kylie Minogue. At the time many couldn’t quite get their heads around the pair, but here we see them travelling together more-or-less anonymously like any other backpacking couple. There’s a sweetness to their love that is genuinely touching — and it’s clear from Minogue’s frank reminiscences that their time together still lingers. We also ‘meet’ Michele Bennett, the woman whom Hutchence was dating at the height of INXS’ early fame, and for whom ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ was written — we discover she was also one of the last people with whom he made contact, their closeness (as with so many of his exes) continuing years after their split.
Lowenstein’s film fleshes Hutchence out into a relatable, quixotic, flawed but deeply engaging character.
Most shocking, though, is Helena Christensen’s revelation of a catastrophic random incident that forever changed Hutchence’s outlook, and goes some way to explaining how someone who exuded so much joy could end his life in such a tragic and untimely manner. Increasingly lost and desperate as his relationship with Paula Yates became more difficult, the last act of Lowenstein’s film makes for a difficult watch, and reveals the coroner’s much-debated verdict of suicide to be hard to question.
On a less personal note, lo-fi video footage of his side project, Max Q, proves that even without his main band, he was a hypnotic performer who had so much more to offer. While not solving the riddle of the man, Lowenstein’s film nonetheless fleshes him out into a relatable, quixotic, flawed but deeply engaging character, and offers a long overdue insight into one of rock’s most underrated and missed musicians.