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Whether you consider Doors singer Jim
Morrison a valued addition to the rock pantheon or a vain,
attention-seeking, pretentious ponce who wrote hippy-drippy poetry in
his spare time, you can’t deny the enigmatic anti-authoritarian Lizard
King cut a charismatic swagger. He had a great voice too. Unlike so many
other rockumentaries about dead stars, Tom
DiCillo’s biography doesn’t lumber itself with voxpops from band
members and friends. Instead, the story is told via a montage of
fascinating and rarely seen archive footage. Meanwhile Johnny Depp
offers one of the most authoritative narratives in years, proving that,
when he’s past acting, he should consider a twilight career in
audiobooks.
By the summer of ’67, The Doors had become one of
America’s most beloved and subversive acts. Yet, as this well-crafted
film illustrates, the attention always focused on Morrison, his binges
and his notorious on-stage outbursts involving drugged-out lunacy,
vitriol and indecent exposure. Boy, they don’t make ’em like that any
more.