A-ha display their truth on ‘A-ha: The Movie’
Sliding out of perhaps the blandest decade since the 1950s, A-ha emerged from the sidelines to create some of the most inventive and hummable tracks of the mundane 1980s. This proved the point when audiences stopped listening to the American charts, welcoming the more obscure anthems spearheaded by Europe, and with their rapier-sharp wit, bouncy choruses and cherubic good looks, A-ha were in the perfect position to take over the mantle from the American backdrop.
A-ha: The Movie demonstrates a fondness for this era and the finished result – accomplished, if occasionally hagiographic – peers back the pages of the history books, to flesh out a decade that has slowly turned into mythology, with the passing of time and years.
A-ha were Norwegian, although they sang in near-perfect English, showcasing their importance in the Scandinavian countries in the realm of pop. Morten Harket sang the numbers, but bandmates Magne Furuholmen and Morten Harket were responsible for the sound and representation of the work, pivoting from the jaunty ‘Take On Me’ to the yearning sensibility of ‘Stay On These Roads’. Out of the three, Furuholmen seems the most precocious, penning many of the band’s most indelible keyboard hooks in the canon, but each of them brought something to the orbit, whether it was stage presence or an appetite for Uriah Heep.
They may not be as downright funky, feverish or as endearing as Duran Duran, but the synth trio weren’t a collection of pretty boys who made a splash on the world stages, but three canny composers who were capable of making an impression on the world’s stages. What the documentary brings to the forefront isn’t conjecture, but context, allowing the three men to speak – occasionally sing – their minds, as Harket remembers the “attitude” he needed to bring the live stages. He sounds passionate, but one gets the sense that the singer felt it was much a pose as it was for Genesis’ Phil Collins, a man who left the drum kit to become one of the famous rock icons of the decade.
Some of the trappings rear their head. Some resentment kicks into the forefront, as the band search for the purpose behind their mission statement, and the band remember the trials they endured to flesh out some of their strongest works. John Barry candidly, if cruelly, referred to the band as “Hitler Youth” when he worked with them on The Living Daylights, the James Bond film that introduced Timothy Dalton to the world. And yet the finished result is arguably their most wholly satisfying piece, capturing the opulence, drama and ferocity of the back catalogue in a tune that was decidedly more impressive than Duran Duran’s more desperate effort from 1985.
A-ha’s golden age is long behind them, but the band show themselves as something grander and more substantial than a lowly tribute act, clinging onto their fame from the 1980s. The tunes may have been written long ago, but the trio boast enough belief in themselves to create a strong footing in the present day.