By Jessica Letkemann

Joe Strummer

You have seen the Cingular commercial where two twentysomething hipsters debate whether the Clash's lyrics are "Lock the cash box" or "Stop the cat box" before the voiceover comes in and announces, "you don't have to understand your music to understand how to get it from your PC to your phone." It's a sorry sign that they can't even get the lyric, "Rock the Casbah," that the song is named after right despite the fact that it's ostensibly displayed on their phone's screen. It's even more disturbing that it's somehow ok to say you don't have to understand your music. In a world where music is increasingly just the unexamined soundtrack to our media saturated lives, if there's anything the Clash really stood for, it was waking the f%k up and trying to understand your world. This is the band that named an early 80s album Sandinista! just to raise awareness. This is the band that had a single called "White Riot." Joe Strummer, who died of a congenital heart defect in 2002 at age 50, was the Clash frontman and chief lyricist behind it all. Director Julien Temple's documentary, The Future Is Unwritten, examines Strummer's life and motivations with a flair for unearthing endlessly quotable bandmates, friends, and artists who have been inspired by him including Bono, Red Hot Chili Peppers Anthony Keidis and Flea, and Johnny Depp of all people (in full Pirates regalia).

Strummer was born John Mellor in early 50s Turkey while his father was stationed there and went through countless personal reinventions before hooking up with Mick Jones, Paul Simonon, and Topper Headon to form the Clash in 1976. Temple has dug up a wealth of obscure interviews, band flyers, home movies and documents, and great concert footage tracing his evolution from jetsetting diplomat's boy, to rockabilly squatter "Woody" busking in the London tube stations, to sneering, razor-sharp punk singer "Joe Strummer" (so-named because he found playing "the fiddly bits" on guitar much harder than just strumming), to post-Clash solo musician and acting dabbler. Touching on his brother's suicide (Joe discovered the body), his first instrument (an ukulele), and a tour through his dead-end jobs (gravedigger, carpet factory drone), a portrait of this cocksure, friendly, smart guy who put real ideas into his music emerges.

Temple, unfortunately, has very much skimped on the explanatory bits that make documentaries accessible beyond diehard fans of their specific subject matter. While most will recognize Johnny Depp and Bono singing Strummer's praises, Temple has opted not to indicate who all of the interviewees are. Hey, was that Mick Jones? Is that what he looks like now? Oh man, that grey-haired man, was that photog Bob Gruen? Wait, was that John Cusack? Too often, all but the most devoted punk scholar will have trouble figuring out who is talking at any given time and how they fit into Strummer's story. Temple spends a bit too long in telling this tale, and a shorter running time would improve the film's impact. Those things, however, don't detract very much from the rich, funny, incredibly interesting story of Strummer's life.