Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, March 1, 1991 TAG: 9103010467
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MICHAEL HILL/ ASSOCIATED PRESS
DATELINE: ALBANY, N.Y. LENGTH: Long
Jim Morrison soon will be in theatres, writhing on stage in a lizard skin suit and singing such moody, otherworldly Doors songs as "Light My Fire."
Small matter that Morrison - The Doors' lead singer, main lyricist, sex symbol and self-proclaimed "Lizard King" - has been dead since 1971.
He's brought back to life by actor Val Kilmer in Oliver Stone's "The Doors," a Tri-Star Pictures release that details the life and times of the Los Angeles band and the short, tragic life of its lead singer.
When Morrison suffered a fatal heart attack in a Paris bathtub on July 3, 1971, at the age of 27 he may inadvertently have given his career its biggest break ever.
Because from beyond the grave, Morrison has become a symbol of 1960s counterculture for a generation too young to remember the decade of tune in, turn on, drop out. His dark, brooding good looks and poetic lyrics have inspired a cult following and made him an icon.
He's a rock idol who will never grow old, never sell out, never disappoint.
"When you're really great looking, a great poet and die at the age of 27 you get the James Dean mythology effect," said John Densmore, who for five years was drummer for The Doors.
Densmore described his former bandmate as a "brilliant burnout" who, despite his losing battle with alcoholism, had the talent and artistic honesty that moved people to idolize him.
"When he died in 1971, it was like the day J.F.K. died for me," Stone, die-hard Jim Morrison fan and Academy Award-winning director, told Esquire magazine. "It was shattering. I worshiped him."
Stone hopes to make 1991 one of the biggest years ever - at least commercially - for Jim Morrison and the Doors. And as far as Densmore and Robbie Krieger, former guitarist for the Doors, are concerned, the movie should be hot. They say that Kilmer pulls off the difficult task of capturing Morrison's complex character.
"Val Kilmer went into the character and never came out," Krieger said.
Morrison was born on Dec. 8, 1943, in Melbourne, Fla., the son of a Navy admiral who eventually disowned him. While studying theater arts at the University of California at Los Angeles, he met Ray Manzarek, a classical pianist who was playing in a blues band. In 1965, they formed a group with Densmore, a physics and psychology major, and eventually hooked up with Krieger. Their first LP, "The Doors," came out a year later.
Throughout their existence, Morrison lived hard and fast, taking drugs, downing booze, simulating sex acts in public and on occasion actually exposing himself.
The Doors played their last concert with Morrison on Nov. 12, 1970, in New Orleans. Morrison had made a recording of his poetry, "An American Prayer." He also had a new wife, Pamela.
Inspired by the muse, he moved to Paris the following March and published two books of poetry.
Krieger, like Densmore, acted as a technical adviser for the film. He said that Stone's movie pretty much nails down the spirit of the Doors. Ray Manzarek, keyboardist for the group, disassociated himself from the project during its early stages.
Also on tap for this year is a double compact disc of live Doors performances and a home video of band performances and interviews. These latest projects cap a line of releases and merchandise stretching back to 1978 that have turned Morrison and his band into a sort of cottage industry.
The Doors still sell about 750,000 records a year for a total of 45 million sales through 1990, according to the group's label, Elektra Records.
Marketing the image of Jim Morrison has also been lucrative. Winterland Productions, the exclusive licenser for the group, won't report sales figures on Morrison T-shirts and posters, but annual receipts are thought to be over$1 million.
"We may have inadvertently created a monster here," said Danny Sugerman, former teen-age Doors groupie, eventual publicist and co-author of the best-selling Morrison biography "No One Here Gets Out Alive."
Sugerman, now Manzarek's personal manager, not only gave Morrison and the Doors their biggest posthumous career boost with his 1980 biography, but also kicked off a long line of Doors literature.
About 20 books about the Doors or Morrison have been published. Notable among them are "Riders on the Storm," Densmore's account of his life as a Door and "Wonderland Avenue," Sugerman's account of his life with the Doors. In the works is a coffee-table book of Doors lyrics and photographs.
All things considered, Morrison and the Doors are doing quite well in their demise.
Densmore says he finds it hard to ignore his past and at times he feels as though ". . . of the Doors" is etched on his forehead. Krieger says his post-Doors performances have become known for fans requesting "L.A. Woman" and other Doors' classics.
"It's amazing to me that kids come up to me when I'm playing," Krieger said. "They weren't around for us. . . . It's because they hear the music on the radio."
Sugerman theorizes that today's younger Doors fans, many of whom are young enough to be Morrison's children, are responding to the singer's rebellious stance.
"The band didn't compromise. That's not a character trait that's in very high esteem these days," he said.
"It's a real phenomenon," said Rainer Moddemamm, publisher of the Germany-based fan magazine Doors Quarterly. "To women, Jim was attractive, and to men he was really attractive because he was really intelligent."
Also appealing to many is Morrison's dark side. Much of the Doors lyrics are gloomy meditations on madness, alienation and death.
Morrison even sang about killing. "Riders on the Storm" features "a killer on the road" whose mind is "squirming like a toad." In "The End," Morrison - in full Oedipal mode - sings about slaying his father and having sex with his mother.
"I like to think that if Edgar Allan Poe came back in the '60s, he would have been Jim Morrison," said Sugerman.
In a sort of creepy coda to the Jim Morrison story, fans still make pilgrimages to the singer's grave in Paris' venerated Pere Lachaise cemetery.
There, among the graves of such cultural heroes as composer Frederic Chopin and the writer Oscar Wilde, young travelers gather at a grave inscribed "Jim Morrison, 1943-1971." Graffiti around the grave is profuse. Typical is "When You Died the Music's Over."
But maybe not.
Densmore recalls Morrison becoming anxious after the Doors first started to slowly catch fire. "It's not happening fast enough," he remembers Morrison lamenting. Now years later, Densmore is struck by the irony of the fame his friend has finally achieved.
"Jim finally got what he wanted," he said.
by CNB