“We’re a happy family,” the Ramones used to sing in one of their better-known songs. With a twenty-one year life span, who could argue? Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee and their various drummers may have changed the world, it is argued in Michael Gramaglia and Jim Fields’ revealing documentary End of the Century, but they were never able to change each other.

Behind those three infectious chords, invigorating live shows, and trademark screams of “1,2,3,4!” was a lot of pain, suppressed anger and commercial frustration. They did manage to stay together, however, and by the end of the film you can see that they were like a family in that they were stuck with each other to the end, for better or worse.

Even the most die-hard Ramones fans will find something worth learning amongst all the rare footage, exclusive interviews and unearthed concert performances that make up this 108-minute film. Following the band from the very beginning right through to the recent deaths of Joey and Dee Dee, first time director-editor-producer team Gramaglia and Fields do a remarkable job of balancing the praise, the sadness, and the live energy that made them legends. For fans of the group, this movie is like an all-you-can-eat buffet that will fill you with all the reasons you fell in love with them, all the memories you have of them, and so many things you never knew.

Any Ramones fan worth their salt, for instance, can tell you that tall, gangly lead singer Joey had a history of mental instability that caused him to be institutionalized during his youth. But through interviews with band mates and friends, End of the Century shows us just how debilitating his mind could be, to the point where he heard voices and developed obsessive-compulsive habits that would often hold up the tour bus while he placed both feet on each step while descending a flight of stairs.

Ramones fans also know that Johnny was the brains behind the operation, but the documentary provides him a rope on which to hang himself as he repeatedly, inadvertently reveals just how dictatorial he could be. Johnny ran a tight ship, and was often cruel to his band mates – and while some will see his interviews as confirming just how desperately the Ramones needed him at the helm, others may come to view him as the least punk person to ever put on a leather jacket.

Then there’s Dee Dee, a flake if there ever was one, taking deep drags off cigarettes and looking like he dropped by on his way to the methadone clinic. He’s endearing in the same way that your crazy uncle that nobody talks about is, but his interviews reveal just how trapped he felt by the whole Ramones act – the jackets, the hair, the “Get me to the airport, get me on a plane!” ethic. When his disastrous attempt at going into a rap career is discussed, what first seems like hilarious folly comes to reveal a sadness that may have dictated the self-destructive behavior of the last years of his life.

The Ramones were a band that had Johnny making public appearances on behalf of Jerry Brown, while Johnny was proudly declaring himself a punk rock Republican. They had Joey wanting to sing oldies doo-wop songs, Johnny wanting to make things as fast and loud as the old days, and Dee Dee writing heartfelt departures like “Strength to Endure.”

Then the biggest conflict is approached, subtly, as Johnny’s wife makes a comment off-camera about the departed Joey just wanting to have a say in the band. Joey, it’s revealed, dated Johnny’s wife for many years and always held a grudge against the two of them for what he saw as a betrayal. For nearly fifteen years, the two men toured in a small van without speaking to each other, while Dee Dee just sat in the middle of it.

But, every time this material is in danger of getting depressing, the music shines through. All the great songs are here – “The KKK Took My Baby Away”, “Sheena is a Punk Rocker”, etc. – as are the revelatory stories behind their inception. Gramaglia and Fields know their punk well, tracking down great interviews with everyone from Legs McNeil to the deceased Joe Strummer – the presence of the latter reminding us just how important it is to capture these amazing stories while there’s still time. The godfathers of punk may be dying off one by one, but movies like End of the Century will help keep them alive forever.

End of the Century is very much the movie that Metallica: Some Kind of Monster should have been. It captures a band at its peak, rather than just wallowing in the desperation that sets in years later. It shows us rockers who don’t want therapy, who don’t want their every thought and word analyzed, but whose issues are on display for our judgment nonetheless.

The documentary gives us the band in raw form, and lets us sort out the mess rather than some Dr. Phil clone. And in the end, this film doesn’t try to put a positive spin on it all – the Ramones are dead, they never sold a ton of records, and even at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame induction they barely spoke to each other. Deal with it, the film says.

Undoubtedly, Johnny would have liked to have made End of the Century when the Ramones were still together, putting his dirty fingerprints all over it; unlike Lars from Metallica, he was kept at a safe distance by his documentarians, and the film is all the better for it.

“I don’t want to live my life again”, Joey sang – and after watching this film, it seems that no one else could have gotten any of their lives just once. Hey ho, they’re gone – and here’s a triumphant last chance to say adios amigos.


For this and other interviews, reviews and entertainment coverage, visit FilmStew.com