If you like The Cure you'll adore it - if you don't, you'll probably hate every second. Indeed, by sheer virtue of its length alone (slightly under two hours), "The Cure In Orange" seems destined to see off all but the most terminally besotted acolytes. Heaving aside the obvious "Pink Floyd At Pompeii" comparison, it's a fans' film and as such is littered with a myriad of throwaway moments only fans will understand, cherish or be amused by: Smith pulling off his wig to reveal a newly shorn barnet, Pope's manic camera-in-hand dashes across the stage, the successful attempts to make Lol look as stupid as possible and Pope's brilliant way of filming proceedings as though through the eyes of a sixth member, giving the viewer a severe case of stage fright, the feeling they're on a bad trip in the grip of pop star megolmania, or all three.
The set is basically a greatest hits package - coffin rockers rubbing shoulders with the party poppers. As a film however, its hands are somewhat tied by commercial necessity (it's on selected cinema release from next week) with only the vaguest intimation of what The Cure have achieved and how they've achieved it. - MS.