No distance left to run

The opening scene of this documentary on 'Brit pop' legends Blur was terrible.

The scenes that followed were captivating.

When I think 'Blur' the first image that springs to mind is not that of a rotating disco ball. It's floppy fringes, gold hooped earrings, geeky glasses, Fred Perry polo's, British summers and the 1990s. Hence my horror at the opening shot of a disco ball...what does disco have to do with Blur? By the end shot the director and producer had got their act together and the slowed down silhouette of Albarn singing to the masses in Hyde Park last year was moving to say the least.

The difference between this music documentary film and others is that this was about Blur, the lovable group of Essex boys with a passion for British music (later to be broadened to include American influences, think Beetlebum). The thing that made this documentary so captivating was the bands internal relationship, like four brothers on a money making, alcohol and narcotic fuelled rollercaoster with massive high and breath taking lows.

Watching Albarn and James was like watching the popular kids at school with their effortless style, oozing cool. James casually sucking on a cigarette throughout and Albarn swigging from a bottle of vintage red. Watching Coxon on the other hand, was like watching one of the 'weird' kids at primary school, sat in the corner on a beanbag scribbling disturbing pictures with his crayolas. His soft voice depicted a sense of vulnerability which was not really seen in the other band members. It made me want to take him home and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Other than the interviews, the most beautifully captured part of the documentary were the live concerts. On the big screen of the Rio Cinema, Dalston, each member was brought to life in splendid colour and detail. The crowds stretched for miles, all shrieking and in absolute awe. It was enough to send shivers down the spine. For any Blur fan, it was breath takingly beautiful.