A rock guitar lover, who lives in a strange house with his mother, the thing that affects badly on him, as he has a miserable and lonely life, but once something happens that inspires his life, as he accidentally finds out the identity of his mysterious neighbor, who has been died 8 years ago, as he promises to keep his secret for teaching him the rock principles.
Perry burrows into his emotionally fractured character with a fierce intensity, conjuring the life and inner turmoil of a conflicted rock musician as mass media fugitive. And not unlike say, Perry's perpetual flight from his Beverly Hills 90210 persona.
The highlights of the entire movie are the imaginative pop-video-style sequences, which make clever use of stop-frame animation to bring the duo's songs to life. If only there was the same vim and vigour elsewhere in this otherwise plodding tale.
It would be easier to forgive the corny, sub-Grange Hill cliches in writer-director John Williams's script if the actual music, on whose excellence the whole thing depends, was credibly catchy and not derivative tosh.
Michael Mueller's character-driven script is about the only thing that feels driven in this otherwise listless vehicle, and "The Beat Beneath My Feet" conveys all the pulse-pounding energy of a funeral procession.
