The only enjoyable moments in this mindless paen to wannabe retro hipster hippie shitbags, The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols, is watching their self-destruction. Their personal and sad little druggie fuck-up moments of self-annihilation bring a satisfaction I cannot begin to explain.
It's bad enough that one is forced to live in a world where semi-retarded drug addicts would recreate the worst elements of 60's rock music, but to commit their self-worship and congratulatory masturbation to film is, in its own way, a special crime. (Not to mention how it shows how bad people's vocals can be and still be made to sound reasonable within a studio context.)
Junkies producing soulless, dull mope-rock makes for a bad viewing experience, but the real story is in their total lack of understanding of the world around them. Bad music and bad ideas seem to shock them as they take a toll on their collective careers. And marvel at the Jonestown's angsty teen rebellion as they make hippie speeches about the evils of corporate music before breaking into droning sitar tracks and jealously mocking The Dandy's, despite how desperately obvious it is that they want to be them. Anguish with them as they fuck up their career over and over again, only to still have fans, somehow.
I can say that the one upside of the movie is The Dandy's cute little keyboard player, but a cute, drug-choked, retarded chick is hardly cute at all.
This movie is really only for the masochistic sort who loves terrible music and stupid people or sadists who enjoy watching the willfully ignorant suffer. Falling into the second category, I can say that it is satisfying to watch their failures, but it hardly makes up for their pretentious bleeding-dry of the Beatles for the rest of the film.
Never has being so untalented been this glorified by so many cunts.