In stark contrast to the indulgent rock-star poses and fly-on-the-wall bickering of many musical documentaries, Searching For Sugar Man immediately, and effectively, marks its own territory, as it’s not so much about the search for stardom, as it is about the search for a star. And, spoiler alert, they find him. Searching For Sugar Man is the kind of crowd-pleasing documentary that eschews doubt and cynicism in favour of infectious enthusiasm. After meticulously building the cult of Rodriguez over the first two acts of its chapter-like structure through fervent hyperbole, and littering the film with song cues from his small body of recorded music, the film invites the audience to drink the mellow, acoustic kool aid. And, indeed, once they do find Rodriguez, he turns out to be a humble, happy man, living with his endearing family in small town America. He’s content, and entirely unencumbered by any failed-rockstar bitterness. In fact, he seems rather baffled by the oddness of his own tall tale of unknown fame in a distant country. Rodriguez is even so modest that he prefers not to be filmed, delegating to his beautiful, eloquent daughters for interviews about his post-performing life. When he does deign to be on camera, he speaks in a whisper, hidden behind hats, sunglasses and a fortuitously sympathetic shadow. In other words, he’s the documentary filmmaker’s worst nightmare: an ordinary guy. There is also plenty to unpack in the film’s various narrative threads, from the fascinating investigative trail that the searchers follow, chasing down record label owners, producers, and Detroit barflies, to the story’s exotically pre-digital flavour – with local cultures worshipping their own musical idols in defiance of Major Label dominance, and even fostering their own tradition of myth around their mysterious icon. Unfortunately, much of the tension and triumph that the film strives for is dissipated, partly by Rodriguez’s modesty, and partly because the search itself took place over a decade before the cameras started rolling. Hard-to-satisfy hipsters will have their questions and their quibbles. “Why the tunnel vision?” They’ll ask, before pointing out that Rodriguez was just as, if not more popular in Australia, and that his back catalogue has enjoyed a recent rebirth as a treasure trove for sample-friendly hip-hop artists. The thing is, they’ll always be searching. Everyone else, on the other hand, won’t care. Because Searching For Sugar Man gives them something they didn’t even know they were looking for: a new favourite musician. A fully-formed cult, free of the rock-doc trifecta of drink, drugs and tragedy, ready to be bought into. And, luckily for them, all they have to do is boot up iTunes. Follow our Twitter feed for faster news and bad jokes right here. And be our Facebook chum here.
title: “Searching For Sugar Man Review” ShowToc: true date: “2025-08-08” author: “Wayne Seely”
In stark contrast to the indulgent rock-star poses and fly-on-the-wall bickering of many musical documentaries, Searching For Sugar Man immediately, and effectively, marks its own territory, as it’s not so much about the search for stardom, as it is about the search for a star. And, spoiler alert, they find him. Searching For Sugar Man is the kind of crowd-pleasing documentary that eschews doubt and cynicism in favour of infectious enthusiasm. After meticulously building the cult of Rodriguez over the first two acts of its chapter-like structure through fervent hyperbole, and littering the film with song cues from his small body of recorded music, the film invites the audience to drink the mellow, acoustic kool aid. And, indeed, once they do find Rodriguez, he turns out to be a humble, happy man, living with his endearing family in small town America. He’s content, and entirely unencumbered by any failed-rockstar bitterness. In fact, he seems rather baffled by the oddness of his own tall tale of unknown fame in a distant country. Rodriguez is even so modest that he prefers not to be filmed, delegating to his beautiful, eloquent daughters for interviews about his post-performing life. When he does deign to be on camera, he speaks in a whisper, hidden behind hats, sunglasses and a fortuitously sympathetic shadow. In other words, he’s the documentary filmmaker’s worst nightmare: an ordinary guy. There is also plenty to unpack in the film’s various narrative threads, from the fascinating investigative trail that the searchers follow, chasing down record label owners, producers, and Detroit barflies, to the story’s exotically pre-digital flavour – with local cultures worshipping their own musical idols in defiance of Major Label dominance, and even fostering their own tradition of myth around their mysterious icon. Unfortunately, much of the tension and triumph that the film strives for is dissipated, partly by Rodriguez’s modesty, and partly because the search itself took place over a decade before the cameras started rolling. Hard-to-satisfy hipsters will have their questions and their quibbles. “Why the tunnel vision?” They’ll ask, before pointing out that Rodriguez was just as, if not more popular in Australia, and that his back catalogue has enjoyed a recent rebirth as a treasure trove for sample-friendly hip-hop artists. The thing is, they’ll always be searching. Everyone else, on the other hand, won’t care. Because Searching For Sugar Man gives them something they didn’t even know they were looking for: a new favourite musician. A fully-formed cult, free of the rock-doc trifecta of drink, drugs and tragedy, ready to be bought into. And, luckily for them, all they have to do is boot up iTunes. Follow our Twitter feed for faster news and bad jokes right here. And be our Facebook chum here.
