It might have been interesting to see a doc about Anton Corbijn in the early ’80s: a church minister’s son, obsessed with British and American music, newly arrived from Holland and eager to make his name as a photographer. But Corbijn of today – like most of the artists he photographs: U2, Metallica, Lou Reed – resides firmly in the middle of the road. This film follows him to a handful of photo shoots and gallery openings, to the set of the thriller he directed, ‘The American’, and through countless hotel rooms as he plies his solitary trade. Try as she might, director Klaartje Quirijns can’t make this lanky, grey-tinged, tight-lipped figure interesting: as he mythologises his childhood and waxes lyrical about his art, the sense you get is of a self-involved individual with little to say. And when a moment of genuine exposure arrives – in the last minutes, Corbijn seems to recognise and regret his own isolation – it’s far too little, too late. A chore.