My Generation (2017)
(On TV, January 2021) In a career now spanning seven decades, Michael Caine has not always starred in good movies, but he has established his screen persona as an exemplar of British cool, whether it’s the handsome cad of his early years or the refined gentleman of his retirement era. As such, he’s nearly the perfect person to host My Generation, a documentary look at the Swingin’ Sixties experienced in Britain, as a new generation took control of the cultural weathervane after the quiet postwar generation. Having Caine as a narrator enables director David Batty to intercut footage of current-day Caine with some of his 1960s films, clearly linking past and present in a way that would have been impossible with anyone else. A whirlwind mixture of historical footage, current-day interviews with notable celebrities of the time (although only Caine appears on-screen), practised anecdotes and truly terrific music, My Generation is far more impressionistic than analytical: Crucial points are dismissed in a sentence or two, while the film goes for audiovisual overload in mixing classic tunes (such as the titular The Who song) with fast-paced montages. That’s fine—if you accept that you’re riding along with Caine for a somewhat superficial overview of a specific time and place, why ask for more? A few moments stand out, either with Caine recounting how he stumbled upon an early live performance by The Beatles while shooting in Liverpool (amazing if true!), or footage showing Twiggy besting interviewer Woody Allen by turning the tables on his pretentious questioning. You can hear such notables as Paul McCartney and Joan Collins along the way, goofing off with Caine during interviews that were probably much longer. Caine’s delivery is impeccable, which helps a lot in going along for the ride. It’s not meant to be a complete story: My Generation ends on how drugs took out the winds of the overindulging generation, but stops short of detailing much of it, nor wondering if things could have been different. This is a film about the glory days, after all. I would normally bristle at yet another Baby Boomer navel-gazing, but My Generation shouldn’t suffer for the excesses of others nor the familiarity of the subject: it’s bouncy fun at its best, and the prospect of spending nearly ninety minutes alongside a chatty Michael Caine is hard to resist no matter what.