Nick Schager Reviews Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages eventually ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that enduring it feels like eternal torture. Adam Shankman’s adaptation of Chris D’Arienzo’s Broadway musical marks the point at which an authentically happy past is finally and irrevocably sullied beyond repair, with that history being, in this instance, ’80s hair metal and the hedonistic scene that birthed and nurtured it on and around L.A.’s Sunset Strip. Shankman’s film is a bastardization of an age, and if that debasement of its subject into campy kitsch is the unavoidable fate of all culturally dangerous art, that doesn’t make it any less palatable.

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