Rockumentary is so passe. Its monstrous soul staked by VH1's stakes of blah in the face of band woes. Until the hunter became the hunted in a metaphorical jungle codenamed DiG!
Anytime you edit 1,500 hours of raw footage down to less than two hours, there are bound to be a few good shots. But the constant barrage of insanity ensuing in the film can only be attributed to one force, Anton Newcombe, the lead singer and explosive frontman of the Brian Jonestown Massacre.
Attempting to limit the damage is The Dandy Warhol's, good friends and better enemies, who manage to barely survive the train wreck of Anton. As the bands develop out of mid-nineties post-Nirvana era into retro underground gods, lives and careers become intertwined.
Limitless. It's how best to describe the talent present and the number of chances BJM received. And the number of times Anton fucks it up. Oh, and the number of times it's caught on film. Fan's heads are kicked in, people throw fruit, band infighting stopping shows--Behind the Music could run for seasons on this material alone.
The only downside to this surreal take on rockstar reality is life seems dull and quiet when the lights go up in the theatre. To avoid this go print up a few copies of the classic "egocentric demigod of a guitarist wanted", spread it around a few music stores, and wait for the inevitable call from Anton.