Sinéad O’Connor explores her past and her legacy in Nothing Compares documentary
NOTHING COMPARES (Kathryn Ferguson, 2022)
Cinema Village
22 East 12th St. between University Pl. & Fifth Ave.
Opens Friday, September 23
212-529-6799
www.cinemavillage.com
www.sho.com/nothing-compares
On October 16, 1992, I was at Madison Square Garden for the Bobfest, an all-star concert celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of Bob Dylan’s first album for Columbia Records. The lineup included Johnny and June Carter Cash, Lou Reed, Willie Nelson, Tracy Chapman, Kris Kristofferson, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Chrissie Hynde, Neil Young, George Harrison, and many others. But the thing that most people remember about the one-of-a-kind concert — especially those of us who were there — was the reaction when the one-of-a-kind Sinéad O’Connor took the stage.
Two weeks earlier, the twenty-five-year-old Irish activist singer-songwriter had torn up a photograph of Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live after performing a haunting solo version of Bob Marley’s “War,” a political song whose lyrics come from a 1963 speech by Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie. At MSG, O’Connor was met with an eerie mix of joyous applause and a building, ominous booing. She stood frozen for a moment, then Kristofferson came out and famously told her, “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” Instead of playing Dylan’s “I Believe in You,” O’Connor reprised “War,” then exited.
I remember being so upset at how she was treated that I wrote my first and only letter to the editor, which was printed in the Daily News, defending her actions. I quickly received several anti-Semitic phone calls from anonymous “bastards.”
O’Connor’s appearance at the Bobfest serves as the frame for the new Showtime documentary Nothing Compares, opening September 23 at Cinema Village before streaming on the cable channel beginning September 30. The film is appropriately unusual and bends genre traditions, in homage to its iconoclastic subject. Director Kathryn Ferguson focuses on O’Connor’s life and career up to 1993, eschewing all that came after, from more albums and tours to an autobiography and her conversion to Islam. We hear a lot from her first husband, record producer John Reynolds, and about their son, Jake, but no mention is made of her subsequent three marriages and three more children.
O’Connor honestly and unabashedly shares critical insight on pivotal events that influenced who she was and what she became, but her contemporary self is mostly not seen, only heard. It’s not until the very end that we get to see her in the present day, with her band, perform an old song specially chosen for the film. In addition, all the other interviewees, from her music teacher and longtime friend to directors, journalists, and fellow musicians, are also heard but not seen on camera. This is a film about Sinead 1.0.
Sinéad O’Connor belts out an early song in the archival-heavy Nothing Compares
Ferguson (Taking the Waters, Space to Be), who will be at Cinema Village for a Q&A following the 5:00 screening on September 23, keeps the Dublin born and raised O’Connor front and center, in a barrage of archival news clips, family photographs, behind-the-scenes recording footage, staged re-creations, and more (courtesy editor Mick Mahon), as O’Connor delves into the horrible abuse she experienced at the hands of her mother (which was ignored by her father), the poor education she received from nuns, her refusal to get an abortion despite demands from her record company, her condemnation of the church because it was turning its back on pedophilia, her support for mental health programs, her insistence the national anthem not be played before a New Jersey gig, and her boycotting of awards shows because of misogyny and racism in the music industry and society at large.
“There was no therapy when I was growing up. So the reason I got into music was therapy,” she tells Ferguson, who previously directed music videos for O’Connor. “Which is why it was such a shock to become a pop star; it’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to scream.”
The film explores her swift rise from her debut album, 1987’s The Lion and the Cobra, to 1990’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got and 1992’s Am I Not Your Girl?, with detailed looks at such songs as “Troy” (a testament that was her first song truly about herself), “Mandinka,” and “Black Boys on Mopeds.” (The Prince estate did not give Ferguson permission to use “Nothing Compares 2 U” in the film, so we only see the video without hearing the music.) Stardom was not easy for her, but she became an international icon fighting the power, particularly for young girls and women, well ahead of her time. “The powers that be weren’t ready for her,” Chuck D says. Kathleen Hanna was influenced by watching O’Connor’s “feminist performance art” on television — the controversial SNL appearance.
O’Connor resisted being stereotyped or talked down to because she was an attractive woman with a shaved head who liked to dress provocatively, and both her attitude and her looks rattled well-known talk-show hosts thirty years ago.
“I just knew that I didn’t want any man telling me who I could be or what I could be or what to sound like,” she declares. “I came from a patriarchal country where I’m being told everything I can and can’t do because I’m a girl. I figured, well, if I didn’t take it from the system, and I didn’t take it from my daddy, I ain’t taking it from anybody else.”
O’Connor’s voice today is deep and mature, not immediately recognizable. She makes no apologies for the choices she made, and she remains firm in her beliefs in fighting social injustice. Her legacy shines through, even given the difficult times, which continue. She offers a compelling, profoundly personal explanation about why she ripped up the photograph of the pope and shares her thoughts on how she came to be regarded as a powerful, influential public figure.
“I didn’t mean to be strong. I wasn’t thinking to myself, I must be strong. I didn’t know I was strong,” she says. “I did suffer through a lot because everybody felt it was okay to kick the shit out of me. I regret that I was so sad because of it. I regret that, that I spent so many years very isolated and lonely, really.”
The song she was scheduled to sing at the Bobfest, “I Believe in You” from 1978’s Slow Train Coming, contains the following stanza: “They show me to the door / They say don’t come back no more / ’Cause I don’t be like they’d like me to / And I walk out on my own / A thousand miles from home / But I don’t feel alone / ’Cause I believe in you.” After all these years, O’Connor is still doing things her own way, not about to be shown to the door by anyone.