Neil Bogart (Broadway's Jeremy Jordan) was a hustler from an early age. Jewish kid from the Brooklyn projects, he changed his name and reinvented himself multiple times, from childhood schemes, to a stint as a C level teen idol, even a brief appearance in soft core porn. He found himself in the world of record producing, a hit in of all things Gospel music, then helped discover Bill Withers, hits with The Isley Brothers and collaboration with Gladys Knight.
These early successes were with Cameo-Parkway and Buddah Record's, but he longed for success under his own label, by then going as Bogart he chose the name Casablanca Records, and brought along with him a team he'd put together over years. They had an eye for talent, but it took awhile to figure out how to market it. KISS, Donna Summer, The Villiage People, Parliament, a steller roster for the 1970's. Then at the top of his game, recently signing Joan Jett, dead from cancer at 39.
Directed by Neil's son Timothy Scott Bogart, the film is its own kind of hustle, a bluff. Cheaply made, cliché ridden, serviceably directed and adequately acted, its soundtrack and sense of hutzpa are its strong suites. It's just not that good, there is affableity mixed with corneyness, head shaking decisions like bringing in Michelle Monaghan and Jason Issac's and giving them nothing to do. Being directed by the man's son I'm shocked how little the kids are in this. His adultery is treated as though it was a charming quark, he just had so much love to give. An overlong self parody, I did kind of like it in an ironic TV movie way, could make some pretty good wallpaper viewing, but I'd be hard pressed to recommend it as a movie. *1/2
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