Justice, A Cross The Universe: Review

The crucifix, eh? It's a modest object once you take it out of context. Its initial function as a cradle of the dying transcended itself, and its subsequent appropriation as an icon of sacrifice, worship, redemption, and protection over multiple millenia is nothing short of incredible. And then it became something else entirely; the Christian elite of 1,000 years ago propagated and distributed the symbol of Christ as the spearhead of the Crusades to tut audibly and waggle fingers at non-believers. More recently, this once humble insignia of torture has been adopted by Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Auge with such wilful insolence that they might have made Godefroy de Bouillon blush.

Thanks to a marketing campaign that no doubt has the Catholic Church seething with indignation and envy, Justice have credibly assimilated the crucifix into an overarching rock star pastiche that they outwardly seem indifferent towards, but embrace like an estranged relative nonetheless. 'A Cross The Universe', a 64 minute documentary of their entire US tour and an accompanying live CD recorded in San Francisco, provides a snapshot of their bemusement at all things American.

Justice in the flesh are a dystopian cocktail of feral strobes and digital thunder. The mobs beneath them bear teeth and fist the heavens relentlessly, as is common with pharmaceutically enhanced teenagers. Besides the errant breasts and comatose facial expressions that are captured with hedonistic aplomb, there are lots of innocuous moments tbat raise a smile. Romain Gavras (auteur of the deeply polemic video for 'Stress') and So-Me direct the majority of the documentary footage with a steady hand and some impressive photography. The editing is guillotine sharp, and its syncopated style is thrilling; watching De Rosnay doing his best Black Panther impression as 'Waters of Nazareth' rushes toward its euphoric twilight, the camera will then cut to something utterly mundane; usually their God-fearing American bus driver, who treats us to his unique breathing exercises and ambitions to break a peculiar world record. Odder still is scene stealing tour manager 'Bouchon', the bastard child of Yul Brinner and Ross Kemp with a laughably priapic lust for handguns.

For all the bravado and bonhomie, initially there is little evidence to suggest that Justice will become anything more than a product of the genre microcosm in which they exist. Whilst the film peripherally winks at you and titters quietly at some first class American nutjobs, it fails to depict our protagonists with any depth beyond the in-jokes and the casual irony. They seem like lovely chaps and you want to like them, but you're not quite sure how to.

One has to question whether this is all part of a ploy to ensure the Justice mythology remains unsullied and intangible. Perhaps if the peasants of yore were privvy to Richard the Lionheart corpulently swaggering in his undergarments around Normandy, or his fondness for pumping copious amounts of concubine twat, perhaps they'd have thought twice about erecting a big iron statue at the front of Westminster in his honour.

The documentary leaves you wanting to believe that Justice can tower above the current zeitgeist and become something more than the insouicant arbiters of monolithically loud French touch. The strong creative streak evident in their interpolation of everything from the Jackson 5 to Metallica might yet be a signpost to their potential longevity. And yet, because De Rosnay and Auge remain guarded by their self-created mythology in keeping the lens at arms length, this in turn highlights the absence of a truly engaging narrative. To this end, 'A Cross The Universe' comes across as less of an epic crusade across Europe with King Richard I, and more of a short jaunt to the community church with Orlando Bloom.

3.5/5