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 The lights dim, and as the faint echoes of the distributor's logo disappear, a series of slow motion shots appear on screen. Dust flies, glints in the light as the members of Britpop band Blur play and cavort on stage for their audience.
No Distance Left to Run, which follows Blur on their reunion tour as they revisit old haunts, griefs and successes, is a beautifully shot and thoughtful exploration of their past. Most of the documentary is well crafted in this way, aside from the use of the same shot of the road twice—details such as these are not lost on a watchful audience and smacks of laziness rather than careful editing.
Although there is a particular attention paid to visually pleasing shots, No Distance Left to Run is still very aware of itself as a documentary and as the representation of Blur’s narrative. We see, within the first fifteen minutes or so, the interviewer and cameraman. In this, there is no pretence of being larger than reality. We follow the band's history using interviews to gain an insight on what was going on behind the scenes and between the members—some of which was surprising to hear.
The use of Blur's music throughout this documentary serves as a vehicle to uncover and reveal old memories. As such the narrative switches between moments of quiet reflection to the brash sounds of their music. A particularly heart-warming moment came when the band visited their roots, happening upon a kind of pilgrimage back to the start of their career by playing at the East Anglia Railway Museum to kick off their reunion tour.
You get the sense that the band are not too happy about the publicity or the documentary at some points, and whether or not this is due to the uncomfortable conversations about the past or the actual process of creating the documentary is unclear. Either way the documentary works as it is, even despite the few awkward moments where you feel slightly guilty for watching, for listening to the heartbreaking and fascinating stories of the band’s personal lives.
There were several points in the film that truly left me close to tears. One moment came towards the end where Graham and Damon reach the climax of recalling their grief at Glastonbury when they play "Tender". The song has always been a favourite of mine, but it means so much more to me now realising its true background, and that Graham made additions to the lyrics for his child. Damon evocates the sense of healing that this song brings the band at that moment, and I cannot agree with him more. The culmination of Blur’s journey on the road and their emotional journey finishes here, not a more fitting end could be found than at Glastonbury with fans singing Tender back to Damon. You will simply have to watch to feel the emotional gravity of the end—the, as described by Damon, “beautiful moment”.
You do not have to be a fan of Blur to understand or enjoy this
documentary, and I urge you to take the chance to see it if it comes
upon you.
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