Billy Idol has a curious cultural legacy because he’s tied to a specific era and isn’t given his due as a trendsetter. Idol emerged as part of the Second British Invasion, and offered a slightly less countercultural version of the defiant resistance figure that Sid Vicious had been, despite being credited for “Rebel Yell.” Simultaneously, Idol’s music videos were considered groundbreaking during the rise of MTV, but he was never associated with the heightened production values of Peter Gabriel or Michael Jackson. Idol’s writing was too poetic to dismiss him as a fad, and he was just controversial enough to evoke probing headlines without ever being cancelled. These contradictions paint a portrait of a theatrical frontman who felt dangerous, even when he had pop sensibilities. The most fascinating reckoning that the singer is faced with in the documentary Billy Idol Should Be Dead is whether he would’ve had a different reputation if he’d died young.
Idol may have started off as a guitarist for Chelsea before he joined Generation X and ultimately spun off as a solo artist, but there was never any surprise in his rise to fame. Billy Idol Should Be Dead doesn’t make the mistake of proclaiming its subject as the definitive voice of a generation (common in music docs), but it does point to why he became such a strangely aspirational figure. It’s antiquated in the gravity in which Idol’s personal struggles are treated because his saga of addiction isn’t a unique for those in his field. Billy Idol Should Be Dead doesn’t revel in self-destruction as merely a tool to spur Idol’s self-actualization. He paid the price for partygoing and association with miscreants; the most fascinating revelation is that Idol had desired a film career, and had to turn down a role in Terminator 2: Judgment Day because he couldn’t run like the T-1000 because of the injuries he sustained in a near-fatal car crash.
Old-fashioned might be a strange way to characterize someone who was so energizing to young viewers, but Billy Idol Should Be Dead is told with black-and-white photographs, archived music videos, and grainy footage of behind-the-scenes rehearsals. Idol is willing to poke fun at how ridiculous the double entendres, strobing lights, and vaguely cosmic imagery of early MTV was. The only thing worse than an uncooperative documentary subject is one who’s too absorbed in their own importance; Idol’s unpretentious admiration of the artists who inspired him has made it easier to believe that the testimonies to his craft weren’t a coerced attempt at image management. That he’s now 70 is only surprising when his acolytes are introduced; among the celebrities who testify to Idol’s impact on their careers are Billie Joe Armstrong and Miley Cyrus, both of whom would qualify as “old news.”
Billy Idol Should Be Dead doesn’t present much new information, but it contextualizes why he attained popularity faster than most of his contemporaries. Idol picked up the torch from Marc Bolan of T-Rex, who’d introduced Generation X on his variety show just weeks before his death in a car accident; this occurred in 1977 just a month after the death of Elvis Presley, a childhood hero of Idol’s. Like Elvis, Idol didn’t have to create a character to disappear into because he’d always been a kid with a chip on his shoulder; like Bolan, he was aware of how even the slightest hints of transgressiveness could be overstated by sensationalist media, and developed a sense-of-humor about being a “bad boy.” Yet, Idol also had a safety net in the relative sincerity of his music, given that songs like “Eyes Without A Face” and “Sweet Sixteen” were ballads. He may have presented himself as an outsider, but he was a well-liked kid from a good family who was criticized by some hardcore punks for being middle-class.
Idol took off when his last record with Generation X essentially served as a solo venture, but Billy Idol Should Be Dead doesn’t imply that his global takeover was miraculous. Idol was an adult by the time he became famous. His lewd, occasionally morbid comments weren’t made in jest, and his uncalculated media appearances heightened anticipation for his downward spiral. Billy Idol Must Be Dead lets Idol take the fall for the suicidal route that he was on, and doesn’t shift the blame to the perils of celebrity.
The most significant asset that Billy Idol Should Be Dead has is in its title, which is itself a half-hearted dark joke. That Idol survived to become nostalgically remembered is a remarkable stroke of luck because fading into irrelevance is a gift. Idol was never going to reach the same levels of recognition as he did when his “Mony Mony” cover topped American charts, and the film is content to celebrate his third act as a father, connoisseur of cameos, and occasional nostalgic act is immensely preferable to glorious martyrdom. Idol hasn’t lost his passion for music; this is a man who toured with a cane after his leg almost had to be amputated.