Time Out says
There are some interesting moments and insightful contributions by John Lurie and Debbie Harry. There’s also a great anecdote by artist James Nares in which he recalls how Nan Goldin would drift around the New York clubs wanting to take pictures of people shooting drugs. One time, he agreed to do it, so she handed him a package of MDA and he overdosed on the spot. Regrettably, the film’s intended air of melancholy is all but annulled by Bertoglio’s wan, haughty and utterly pretentious narration about how wonderful New York was at that time.
All this despite the fact that he and many of his associates were reduced to roaming the gutters of Alphabet City, scrabbling for change to feed their junk habits. Also, too much screen time is given to rambling violinist/artist Walter Steding, who was mercilessly chewed up and spat out by the Warhol machine and left to linger through the ’80s and ’90s as a drug casualty who now lives out of a storage container.