Finality of art and the people behind it is as touching a topic as expected. Seeing the demise not just of popularity but of person. That fine and treasured line between stardom and obscurity. Nico was likely both. Outshined by collaborators yet far better than those she made melodies with. She brushed shoulders with the best but found herself buried underneath. Much of that is developed throughout Nico, 1988, a piece from director Susanna Nicchiarelli that observes the destruction of star power and the dangerous consequences and pressures of fame in all its obscure ways. An age-old story, the pursuit of fame and subsequent rejection of it through near-death experiences. What Nico, 1988 manages is far beyond just a usual retread.
Artistically inspired and using plenty of leeway with its subject, their life and the people around them, this Nicciarelli piece is an art project come to life. It is slow and methodical, taking real patience and time in where it sets these characters. How it comes to blows with its leads and its staggering, transfixed paralysis of fear is clear as day. Sombre shots that should hold real beauty instead hold fear for those that know of Nico’s life and times. For those that don’t, Trine Dyrholm’s leading performance is an excellent gateway into the life of a superb musical talent who, like many of those she worked with, had an abundance of problems that affected their music. As reflective as expected for a piece that darts away from the heyday of Andy Warhol and company.
No, Nico, 1988 takes itself to the middle age of the eponymous musician, whose career was stunted and her personal life quietly spurning away. It is the mid-life crisis at the core of Nico, 1988 that takes hold with real clarity not just in how a person reinvents themselves, but how a musician exposes themself to the world once more. Dyrholm’s performance is unique and beyond exceptional. Tense interviews, and a desire to reconnect with the past, it all comes tumbling out thanks to Dyrholm. John Gordon Sinclair plays second fiddle to that powerhouse lead performance, the credible and effective ballast that reigns in Nico, 1988 from steering itself toward ultimate reflection. Because Nico, 1988 does not reflect all that much – in fact, it explores the past with a real disdain carried through with a lack of happy endings.
Tremendous anxiety flows through Nico, 1988 as it explores the connection Christa Päffgen had to her home country and how she explored that in Manchester and, furthermore, on tour. Strange idiosyncrasies pour through a unique performance that captures a real desire to return to music making, to reconnect with lost families and to make a difference. Sometimes that comes too little, too late, but for Nico, 1988, it is shown as too much, too fast for an artist spiralling out of control. Sometimes preparing for the future is an impossibility, but the gratification of returning to work and being inspired is often more rewarding than the output itself. Nico, as shown throughout this Nicchiarelli piece, a superbly directed one at that, is in the throes of great work. The build-up to it is as rewarding as whatever that final piece would have been.
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