SIMPLE MINDS: EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE

Simple Minds: Everything Is Possible, Greenwich Entertainment

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 12, 2025

Excluding the constant singer and guitarist, there have been so many members of Simple Minds that the band's online encyclopedia entry requires an elaborate chart to track the timeline of membership. This is only worth noting about the documentary Simple Minds: Everything Is Possible, perhaps, because, apart from that singer and guitarist, the other members of the band over the decades either aren't in this movie or don't seem especially happy to be here.

To be clear, director Joss Crowley's blandly straightforward and hastily assembled documentary isn't very noteworthy on its own. Maybe that's not the filmmaker's fault, though. This is clearly intended to be an in-depth look at the band's origins, rise, and continued work since before its inception in 1977 to the present day. That means it covers more than 50 years, but somehow, the movie comes in under 90 minutes, including the end credits.

Without the majority of the band's past and present members to speak about this story, Crowley pulls from musicians from other acts, who offer brief snippets of praise for the music of Simple Minds, and even author Irvine Welsh. His only apparent connection to the band is that the writer is also Scottish and is enough of a fan to agree to be interviewed.

Something is off here, beyond the fact that movie is a rushed affair that barely gives the band's story, stylistic evolution, and, for whatever reason, music any time to breathe. Our talking heads explain how Simple Minds went from a punk rock act, to a new wave band, to trying to make some synth-pop dance hits, and to one whose sudden burst of social awareness is immediately preceded by a mention of U2, a band almost as famous for the political content of their songs and real-world activism as the music itself.

There's a sense that Simple Minds was simply trying to catch on to whatever trends were popular at the time, and that's not just because lead singer Jim Kerr says as much at one point during his several interview sessions. As he puts it, some band had a hit with a dance song, and he thought it was time that Simple Minds had something like that, too.

If such is the case, that's fine. Every musical act in existence, if they last long enough, has undergone some kind of change and, if they're interested in continued success, has latched onto whatever's popular at the time. No one in this documentary seems willing to say that directly or, for that matter, to address exactly why that list of former members is so long. If the documentary itself had given us a better sense of the music or been narratively interesting in any way, we might not be wondering about this stylistic trend or the possibility of persistent backstage drama over the band's history.

Instead, the stuff that's between the lines of this blandly told story is far more appealing to consider than what's right in front of us. Kerr is essentially in charge of telling the band's story, although guitarist Charlie Burchill is second in command in that regard. The two are best friends and, according to both, like brothers, but they're interviewed separately, even in the same location at times. Burchill seems nice and even has a sweet moment of returning to the Glasgow music shop he used to haunt in his younger years. A classic guitar catches his eye, and that might be the sincerest moment in the whole movie.

The story here follows Kerr, mostly, and Burchill, almost as much, from their childhoods as neighbors in the same Glasgow neighborhood, forming a band of primarily self-taught musicians who tried to get into the punk scene of the era, and gradually finding success by catching that next new wave of music. Their biggest hit, of course, was "Don't You (Forget About Me)," a song they didn't write but that, according to Kerr, was primarily famous—not because it was the theme for a very popular film—because he improvised the introductory shouts of "hey" and the outro lyrics of repeating "la." Some might take that as a joke, but around that little anecdote, the singer seems genuinely disinterested and even a bit bitter to have to talk about that song.

This documentary, then, is almost accidentally fascinating, because it leaves us with little to do but to read between the lines of what Kerr and, to a lesser extent, Burchill say, as well as what's notably omitted from its content. As the narrative unfolds, band members leave one and, on one occasion, two at a time with little to no explanation. Mel Gaynor, a now-former drummer for the band after three previous ones, is interviewed for the movie, and considering how glowing everyone is of his obvious talent behind the kit, one really wonders what happened there.

No one's saying, of course, because Simple Minds: Everything Is Possible is ultimately more of a promotion for the current lineup of the band and its continuing projects. Their longevity is a key selling point, and while that's technically true, it's not, like this documentary, exactly honest, is it?

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