WHO KNOWS – THE MAKING OF A ROCK MOVIE by Tony Klinger

Who fans that take an interest in such matters may have read elsewhere that certain issues clouded the production of The Kids Are Alright, the documentary film on the group that was released to cinemas and on video in 1979. With impeccable timing but perhaps inadvertently, this well-received biopic served as a tribute to drummer Keith Moon whose death the previous year brought closure to what many look upon as The Who’s classic period. These issues are hinted at in the introduction to this book which suggests, heaven forbid, that raised voices could be heard at TKAA-related meetings in the offices of Trinifold, The Who’s Soho-based management company, and one of them, heaven forbid, may have belonged to Bill Curbishley, the group’s manager, not a man to react kindly to anything that affronts his pro-active, protective and occasionally combative nature. Another raised voice was no doubt that of Tony Klinger, the author of this book, the much put-upon film-maker brought in by Curbishley and The Who to help make their movie. 

        Disagreements between all those involved in TKAA take centre stage in a rather unsettling but nevertheless insightful book. On the DVD and video I own, Klinger is credited as TKAA’s producer, as is Curbishley, and was therefore privy to everything that went down before and during its creation. Luckily for us, he didn’t sign an NDA, so he chose to bare his soul, initially in a book titled, for some absurd reason, Twilight Of The Gods, published in 2009, republished as The Who And I in 2017. This is the third edition of the same book, much revised, published now by the author, the implication being that for the first time here is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, some of which may have been withheld from earlier editions.* 

        Klinger is an experienced film-maker whose credits go back to working on the original Avengers TV series and several excellent movies, among them Get Carter, an all-time favourite of mine. His first brush with The Who came in late 1976 when he was commissioned to produce a promotional video for Roger Daltrey’s solo single ‘One Of The Boys’, which brought him to the attention of Curbishley who was seeking someone to produce and/or direct the documentary on The Who that became TKAA. To his misfortune, Klinger’s arrival in Who central in early 1977 coincided with a period of unrest and uncertainty surrounding the group. Having toured prodigiously during 1975 and ’76, they were now idle, collectively at least, with no immediate plans for the future. Pete Townshend had begun to compose songs that would appear on Who Are You, which wouldn’t be released until 1978, Daltrey was keen to pursue a career as an actor, John Entwistle was moodily weighing up his options and Moon was living in California, adrift in an ocean of alcohol. On behalf of the group, Curbishley had just completed the purchase of Shepperton film studios south west of London, his intention to broaden The Who’s interest in films and utilise them as a storage and rehearsal space.                                                                                                                                                      Klinger’s first move was to bring in his film-maker friend Sydney Rose to assist with production. This didn’t sit well with Curbishley, which might explain why Rose’s Christian name is misspelt with an i in the credits, a rather shabby slight. Curbishley drew Klinger’s attention to Jeff Stein, an American Who fan who’d already researched archive film footage of the band for no other reason than his enthusiasm for and love of The Who. Stein’s photographs of the group, along with those by his collaborator Chris Johnson, appeared in a delightful photo-study they published 1973, to my knowledge only the second ever Who book (which I treasure), and this no doubt helped him establish his friendly rapport with Townshend. Stein demanded that his friend Ed Rothkowitz be appointed TKAA’s editor, which didn’t sit well with Klinger. And herein lies the problem: too many cooks, each with their own agenda and unwilling or unable to communicate openly with one another, spoiling the broth.

        In the end, of course, the broth turned out to be very tasty indeed but not before Klinger experienced the stuff of nightmares in his dealings with the band, Curbishley and Stein, all of whom seemed at times to be operating at cross purposes. In a nutshell, having found himself more or less at odds with everyone over staffing, budgeting and how the film should look, Klinger believed, perhaps justifiably in light of his greater experience in film-making, that he was right and they were wrong, so he screamed and shouted and, eventually, walked. Only at the very end was he brought back into the fold and then under a cloud that lingers to this day. 

        Along the way, we get heaps of fly-on-the-wall reports of ‘difficult’ meetings, in which Curbishley comes across as a bit of a bully, and finely drawn but far from flattering pen portraits of Townshend, Daltrey, Entwistle and Moon; respectively duplicitous, hot-headed, broody and nuts. We visit Malibu where Klinger and his men get a full-on dose of Moon at his most obdurate, alternately blind drunk or rabidly libidinous with girls galore, clearly not long for this world, and a cameo appearance by his next door neighbours, tough guy actor Steve McQueen and wife Ali MacGraw. We visit Stow-on-the-Wold where a sulky Entwistle is also uncooperative – “Extracting conversation from him was like drawing teeth” – and Burwash on the Kent-Sussex border where Daltrey occupies the local manor house but declines to be filmed with his private helicopter lest it damage his working-man-made-good image. 

        Despite its tongue-in-cheek cover – the author sat on paving stones, draped in a Union Jack in emulation of the Who photo used to promote TKAA, its sub-title set in the same typeface – I found the book’s brutal honesty enlightening but a bit depressing. Much as Klinger strongly admires the Who’s music and the power they radiate on stage, he feels they let him down. “We needed one hundred percent of The Who’s artistic involvement and moral commitment, not purely monetary support; I never felt we had it,” he writes towards the end of his book. “If Pete wanted to go for something, Roger would be pulling in the other direction and the opposite held true. … the band’s commitment to each other, let alone the film, was stretched paper-thin… [they] didn’t know what came next either, nor did their management, lawyers or record company. It had evolved in a way that none of us could have desired or foreseen except in our darkest nightmares.” 

        Biographical details of The Who throughout are sketchy and not always 100% accurate, and the author’s jaundiced opinions on the members of The Who are, of course, coloured by his own regrettable experiences. To a certain extent I know what he’s getting at – I too have experienced The Who at close quarters and had business dealings with them** – but I can’t help but think that at times he’s overegging the pudding. Nevertheless, the book’s original publisher showed the manuscript to them and “got the all clear”, according to the author. If so, it speaks wonders for The Who’s lifelong commitment to letting it all hang out, as evidenced in so many other Who-related books. 

        Who Knows – The Making Of A Rock Movie is illustrated with photographs by Danny Clifford, many taken during the production of TKAA, has 250 pages, no index and costs £14.99 on Amazon. 

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* I can neither confirm nor refute this as I am unfamiliar with the two previous editions.

** I found Pete, Roger and John strangely indifferent to the project when I worked with them on the 1994 4-CD box set 30 Years Of Maximum R&B and several subsequent upgraded CDs. Bill Curbishley, on the other hand, was always helpful and as keen as mustard, and no client has ever paid me more generously or promptly than Bill did for these records.