This portrait of Ferrara is structured like one of the director's own films. There's no contextualising voice-over and writer/director Pitts doesn't even attempt to interview his subject. Instead, he observes Ferrara in his natural habitat - New York at night. We watch him driving round in a yellow cab, shooting the breeze with some old actor friends, doing a hack job directing a pop video and playing guitar. In his crumpled leather jacket and baseball cap, Ferrara is a shambolic figure. He's also humorous and charismatic. And, for all his nuttiness, he clearly retains a child-like love of cinema. Pitts' approach is often infuriating. He never probes or questions Ferrara (whom he idolises) and thus fails to unearth any of the biographical information that most audiences would crave from a documentary.