Iron Maiden: Flight 666

Film Reviews • Monday August 3rd, 2009 • 9:41 pm

You may not be a heavy metal fan. Perhaps you cheered This Is Spinal Tap loudly the first time you saw it, shouting something like, ‘Yes! Give those Neanderthals what they’ve got coming!’ There’s nothing wrong with feeling this way about that “music” because if anything argues against Darwin’s theory of evolution, it’s the continuing popularity of heavy metal. After all, are humans merely on the planet to make loud, fast, illiterate rock & roll? How is that advancing the cause of humanity?

Even if you are a metal hater, however, you may well be entertained by this Iron Maiden documentary. Iron Maiden is about as old school as metal gets. They started banging their heads right around the time guys began to use discos as the pretence to bang coked-up chicks. Despite their many references to the anti-Christ and various monsters, these guys were about as Satanic as Flip Wilson’s claim that the devil made him do it. No, this was all cartoon Satanism, unlike the Slayer stuff, which strikes me as being just a little too real for comfort.

This film documents Iron Maiden’s recent world tour, which, as the DVD notes glowingly recount, “took them 50,000 miles round the planet playing 23 concerts on five continents in just 45 days.” But that’s not even the best of it. In a move that would make even old Charley Darwin proud, Bruce Dickinson piloted Iron Maiden’s personalized Boeing 757 the whole way! Yep, there is footage of Dickinson in his casual, heavy metal lead singer garb. But there are also scenes of the man – the pilot that is – in captain’s dress shirt, cap and pants. Don’t run to the hills, pilgrim! He’s really a real pilot.

Naturally, there’s also a lot of band tom foolery, as well as scenes where fans express their adoration for Iron Maiden in nearly every tongue known to mankind. Even so, the experienced musicians that make up don’t take themselves too seriously. They’ve been around the block many times already; they know the drill. And they appear to be the sorts of blokes you wouldn’t mind having a beer with. (Moms and dads: they won’t even stamp your little boy or girl with the mark of the beast. I’m sure of it).

Less interestingly – unless you’re a group diehard – is the additional concert DVD. If you truly enjoy semi-operatic lead vocals, over a trio of screeching electric guitars, here’s your chance to bounce and brawl to “Aces High”, “Wasted Years”, and “Number of the Beast”. But there isn’t a whole lot of impressive stuff going on musically. This is paint-by-numbers heavy metal. Granted, it has some historical value, as Iron Maiden was a big part of the nascent heavy metal movement. Yet one cannot definitively say they’ve evolved as artists along the way, as Neil Young and Bob Dylan have. They found a formula that works, and stuck with it.

Watching Dickinson fly that big plane, which is loaded down with equipment and loaded musicians, ought to give even the greatest metal naysayer a little respect for the man. Punk rock may have helped popularize a much-needed DIY spirit in music, but I doubt we’ll live to see the day when skinheads pilot 757s. Nobody wants to hear a devoted slam dancer announce, “This is your captain speaking.”