Cocksucker Blues

Frank, a wildly impressionistic filmmaker, shows a flair for taking the most lackadaisical of encounters and crafting them into something pungent and revealing.

Nonfans will be bored stiff, and even true believers may find the last half hour interminable, but the film's real distinction may be its willingness to be dull.

There are also some well composed and shot concert sequences, but what the film does best is present a picture of the mini-society that attached itself to the group at its peak. A pretty dismal society it is, too.

The thing that makes this documentary special is not the sensational sex, drugs and rock and roll footage, but the shots of the band in the downtime between concerts.