“PRETENDERS”

Exploding onto the scene in the spring of 1978, The Pretenders was a band that blended the melodicism of late 60s British rock with the ferocity and tenacity of the punk era. Headed by the indelible lead singer/guitarist/song-writer Chrissie Hynde and three lads from Herefordshire near the English/Welsh border, the quartet captured global attention. Their journey began with a Kinks cover and led to number one singles, world tours, and an army of imitators.

“Pretenders”, Joss Crowley’s sympathetic and occasionally frustrating documentary, does well to tell the story of Hynde and her collaborators. It draws out stories from the reluctant band leader, showcasing many interviews with bandmates, managers, friends, and other hangers-on from the group’s heyday.

Despite Hynde’s overt insistence that she’s merely a part of a whole, the film and her bandmates belie this notion, as the rotating lineup due to drug use, death, or a simple changing of the guard meant that there is only one person who has remained at the core of what The Pretenders represent. Founding members get their due, from drummer Martin Chambers, who still plays with the band, to bassist Pete Farndon and guitarist James Honeyman-Scott, who both succumbed to their addictions within days of each other just as the band began to peak. However, the gravitational pull of Hynde’s story and charisma is inexorable, and much of the film’s stories remain focused on the spiky-haired lead.

The contemporary interviews with Hynde are mostly audio-only; her reticence to be on camera is in complete contradiction with her life lived on the front of a stage. A former NME journalist (her review of Neil Diamond’s “Jonathan Living Seagull” is deliciously snarky, describing it as sounding “like an ad for an American small car”), Hynde’s own refusal to show up and be interviewed raises more than a few eyebrows, but such is the life of superstardom.

The scenes that are shot are done so in an almost voyeuristic fashion, the camera woozily trying to get a zoomed-in composition between interviewer and interviewee. This, and the constant refusal to dig further into some of the more complicated aspects of her past for more than a few minutes, requires not only others to fill in the gaps, but also amplifies the sense that we’re getting something far more carefully curated by the subject than what would make for a truly impactful portrait.

By focusing on the band, there is a narrowing of what’s covered. The early years receive the vast majority of attention, while a mere montage details the decades spent since their early 80s dominance. Giant gigs such as Live Aid are ignored entirely (the focus on the US Festival takes the narrative prominence instead), and even their improbable comeback of sorts, “I’ll Stand By You”, is given relatively short shrift. Her number one cover of Sonny and Cher with UB40 is also absent. Curiously, her solo collaborations are almost completely unexplored.

Hynde’s relationship with the Kinks’ Ray Davies is fascinating in context, given that the band’s first single covered one of his songs. Yet her marriage to Simple Minds’ Jim Kerr is treated as a footnote, and Lucho Brieva isn’t discussed at all. We’re left, then, with this strange shotgunning of various pivotal elements for no apparent reason.

Still, given all these limitations, Crowley still crafts an entertaining look at these musicians. Fans are sure to be thrilled by the copious archival material. It’s not an entirely satisfying journey in its detailing of the career of the band and its star, but there’s enough here to entertain even those completely unaware of their musical output. “Pretenders” often pretends to be more about the group than the lead, mirroring Hynde’s own ethos in many ways. But despite these stumbles, there is still enough here to more than recommend giving the documentary a chance.