Available now on Netflix

At first glance, it’s easy to get caught up in the sensationalistic, drug-fueled bizarre stuff, but there’s more to The Dirt, out now on Netflix, than the detritus of excess!

Whether it’s Tommy Lee delivering oral ministrations to a nubile woman who has a proclivity for water sport, the numerous scenes which depict mainlining heroin, the hotel hallway scene, or the pool scene with Ozzy, there’s plenty of miscreant hijinx; the dirt, in The Dirt.

If you give in to the inclination to over-focus on those things, you might just miss the real story.

As in Bohemian Rhapsody, if you’re looking for a neat little timeline that sticks to how and when things went down, you might be disappointed in this tale of the rise and fall of Motley Crue. What you will get, and see, is four guys drawn together by The Fates, and their love of the loud stuff. Each of them completely fucked up in their own way.

It’s the telling of the tale, the use of suspension of disbelief, and the breaking through the fourth wall that makes this biopic a movie, and more fun to watch. As in the book, each of the members serve as narrators. In this way, the film reminds me of Private Parts, the Howard Stern movie.

Director Jeff Tremaine gets a lion’s share of the credit for making this story work, and here’s why.

This is the tale of four guys who life had kicked around, finding the key to their freedom from the pressures of real life, in a band of fucked up brothers. They rise above all obstacles, including the self-made variety, to reach the top. In a fucked up way, it’s “a feel good” story. (Sorry for the pun…)

Tremaine crafted The Dirt to be more than a movie about wrecking hotel rooms and getting groupies, but there’s plenty of both. The story in the press about Jeff showing the flick to the band told me that they were happy with the result. Their response to the movie seems to be in spite of glaring omissions and stretching of facts. Truth is, there was way more story than the 107 minute length of The Dirt could tell. Tremaine faced the arduous task of condensing and trimming events to fit the narrative. Y’know, Hollywood shit. Taking the project in that direction is also part of what makes it work.

Another big part of why The Dirt works is the cast. Douglas Booth (Jupiter Ascending, Romeo & Juliet) as Nikki Sixx, Iwan Rheon (Game Of Thrones, Inhumans) as Mick Mars, Daniel Webber (11.22.63, The Punisher) as Vince Neil, and dj/rapper Machine Gun Kelly aka Colson Baker (Birdbox) as Tommy Lee. These guys trade insults like brothers, and their chemistry is what really drives this movie.

Ultimate Classic Rock did an in depth Fact or Fiction piece and found a lot of fiction. Original guitarist, Greg Leon calls the scene where he and Mick play together with the other guys, fiction. Leon says he left to pursue a more bluesy approach. Their first singer, O’Dean Peterson, fails to garner even a mention. Crue’s meeting Doc McGhee, their manager, is fiction, as it happened at the famed Santa Monica Civic (not their place), and included Doug Thaler. Doug gets overlooked after being “shouted out” and faded out by Mars in an aside to the camera. It was also Thaler, not Doc, who got the wrong tattoo.

UCR’s story says the whole bar scene where the band gets their rights back is pure fiction, although the large amount that the label owed the band is fact. It also validates the film’s depiction of lightly attended shows and fan response after they split with Vince and hired John Corabi. Neil’s solo career isn’t even referenced, in the interest of brevity.

The movie also fails to include a ton of people who were part of the story, but not integral to the director’s telling of it. Corabi is included, but never speaks. But the list of those who are MIA includes most of the band members’ many wives, Tommy Lee’s replacements when he quit or went to jail (neither incident is mentioned), and the women involved in the band members’ sex tapes, or that part of the story itself. It’s the minimal treatment of Thaler’s role that bugs me the most.

Some of the most emotional stuff, the illness and death of Vince’s daughter, Skylar, and the auto accident where Hanoi Rocks drummer Razzle died with Vince drunk at the wheel, give the film depth, and shows the real life fallout of excess. Tremaine claims to have been in tears the entire time they were shooting the hospital scene between Vince and Skylar.

The music? Oh yeah, it’s on display, and a very present character in The Dirt. Some of the best moments in the movie are about the music, the stage, and the band’s rise, first in L.A., then everywhere. If you ever banged your head to “Dr. Feelgood” or “Shout At The Devil,” or raised a lighter to “Home Sweet Home,” you need to see The Dirt. If you don’t have Netflix, get it, or find a friend who does. Excuse me, I’m going to go watch it again…