The sun set long ago on the bombastic panache of Oasis. Manchester's Gallagher lads were slated to live forever on cigarettes, alcohol, fisticuffs, and "Wonderwall." Anthemic and quarrelsome, Oasis haughtily inhabited a prewar decade when where, what, and why were less intriguing than "Why not?" Depressingly, that stadium-filling reverie is utterly absent from this transparent bid for historical relevance, which comes off as little more than a snazzed-up, hi-def electronic press kit. Coupling a grating exercise in tour-film tedium with a smartly shot Manchester Stadium supergig (recorded days before London's terror attacks of July 2005), it succeeds only in making Libertines-du-jour Pete Doherty and Amy Winehouse look revelatory. Little by little, the insistence in being idle has resulted in mucky fingers and disheartening acquiescence to an outdated master plan. Noel's soaring Beatles pastiche and Liam's stubborn rock star stance remain fitfully epic, but Oasis, the Great Brit Hope, reveals itself on- and offstage to be as culturally relevant as Benny Hill's backside. Definitive? Maybe not.
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