If you’ve ever worn a Twisted Sister pin on your jean jacket. . .
If you’ve ever owned a copy of Condition Critical. . .
If you’ve ever slow-danced to a Van Halen song. . .
If you’ve ever cut the sleeves off of a black concert T-shirt. . .
If you’ve ever written “666: The Number of the Beast” on your Trapper Keeper. . .
If you’ve ever hung out in Derek Lado’s basement. . .
If you’ve ever wished you looked more like Stephen Pearcy and less like Klaus Meine. . .
I admonish you: Go see Rock Star. See it in the theater, on the biggest screen, with the best sound system you can find. The story is predictable but the screenwriting is pretty good, given the weak plot. It’s basically about a guy (Marky Mark, in a good performance) who fronts a hair-metal tribute band in about 1985. When the real band’s lead singer leaves, they hire him to replace the guy and he gets to live the dream. (Supposedly, this is based on the true story of current Judas Priest lead singer Tim “Ripper” Owens.) The concert sequences are amazing, the music is totally cool, and there’s no way you can sit through the whole movie without making the sign of the devil.