Why you can trust GamesRadar+ Our experts review games, movies and tech over countless hours, so you can choose the best for you. Find out more about our reviews policy.
Poet or pretentious pillock? Whatever your take on Jim Morrison, The Doors’ sex-reptile frontman, his charisma helps electrify Tom DiCillo’s flawed but intermittently thrilling documentary.
The US indie veteran opens up The Doors’ story with a connoisseur-ish assemblage of rare archive footage, bucking the standard option of talking heads for something immersed and immediate.
The approach has drawbacks, notably a lack of any challenge to Morrison’s mystique: Johnny Depp’s narration dishes fawning bromides and any glances at context are merely cursory. But as the typically unpredictable but entertaining Jim trips out onstage in West Hollywood – while his often-unsung band conjure dreamy swirls of improvisatory sound around him – the good stuff kicks in.
The Doors’ trajectory from Sunset Strip to fame, infamy (with over 32m albums sold in their homeland alone) and tragedy rips along at a rollercoaster pace. En route, Morrison makes a magnetic spectacle out of narcissism.
This is a fan’s film, with all the flaws that entails, but doubters might emerge converted.
