Review: All I Can Say Is an Impressionistic Peek into Shannon Hoon’s Life

The film refuses to shy away from the unvarnished honesty of the Blind Melon frontman during his brief moment of fame.

All I Can Say
Photo: Oscilloscope Laboratories

Years before it became common for people to record their every waking moment on their phones, Shannon Hoon, the late lead singer of the alternative rock band Blind Melon, was taping his day-in, day-out experiences on a bulky video camera. Hoon amassed hours of footage from 1990 all the way up to the day of his death from a drug overdose in 1995, and now it’s been compiled into the dizzying and dreamlike All I Can Say. The film is an immensely skillful cinematic collage, and it isn’t afraid to lean into the disconnected and fragmented nature of Hoon’s videos. The result is an impressionistic portrait of the late musician that suggests its being transmitted directly from his mind.

As free-associative as All I Can Say can be, marked as it is by digressive glimpses into Hoon’s prankster antics and substance-fueled outbursts, the filmmakers mold a coherent narrative by presenting the footage in a relatively chronological fashion. Hoon is a compelling presence, and that he began recording his life in 1990, around the time that Blind Melon was formed, allows for a unique first-person account of how these musicians from modest origins quickly rose to international prominence. At one point, an entire concert audience sings along to the band’s 1993 hit single “No Rain,” a moment that stands in stark contrast to earlier footage of Hoon laying down the vocal track for the song in a dark, candlelit room. The film goes on to give the audience glimpses of Hoon’s struggle with fame, as well as his run-ins with the law, but he remains the same loyal family man and affable jokester throughout.

As All I Can Say consists almost entirely of Hoon’s personal recordings, it’s focus is inevitably narrow, and as such you may find yourself wanting for specificity concerning his abilities as a musician. Regardless of whether or not Hoon often videotaped himself plying his trade, there’s a sense that other archival materials or contemporary interviews might have offered a deeper understanding of his artistry. Despite the intimate nature of Hoon’s footage, his bandmates exist at a remove from him, as they remain largely on the periphery of the frame. At the same time, it’s the film’s stubbornly fixed perspective that makes it so worthwhile: for the way it refuses to shy away from Hoon’s unvarnished honesty during his brief moment of fame.

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 Director: Danny Clinch, Taryn Gould, Colleen Hennessy, Shannon Hoon  Distributor: Oscilloscope Laboratories  Running Time: 100 min  Rating: NR  Year: 2019  Buy: Video

Wes Greene

Wes Greene is a film writer based out of Philadelphia.

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