Kurt and Courtney (1998)

Friends, I have seen the worst movie of the year and, like last 
summer's SPEED 2: CRUISE CONTROL, this one's so bad it's good.  
Either rush right out and see or avoid like the plague KURT AND 
COURTNEY, a jaw-droppingly dreadful (though admittedly hilarious) 
documentary about, well, the making of a documentary about Kurt 
Cobain.  You know, the dead guy with all those marbles in his 
mouth...  Attempting to chronicle the life and times and maybe-
just-maybe murder of the teen-spirited Seattle singer, Brit film-
maker Nick Bloomfield (HEIDI FLEISS: HOLLYWOOD MADAM) ran into 
roadblocks a-plenty:  financing... copyright problems... even cam-
corder batteries that died after an attempt to crash a Hole rehear-
sal.  (That there's no Nirvana music in the movie is just one its 
many peculiarities.)  The result is a pot-holed portrait of an an-
guished artist, with a boatload of Courtney bashing and one or two 
conspiracy theories thrown in for good measure.  (Did she kill him?  
Hell if I can tell...)  There's also quite a bit about Bloomfield-- 
an anything-for-footage filmmaker who presses forward, no matter 
what obstacle may lay in his path.  (His seeming motto:  when in 
doubt, keep shooting!)  Alas, after the fourth or fifth anti-cli-
max, things take on a THIS IS SPINAL TAP tone.  (Though I don't 
*think* it's intended as a parody...)  At least there's plenty to 
laugh at:  "diseased vaginas"; droll narration; footage of punk 
bands beating up their audiences; stories of how Father Love used 
pit bulls to keep his daughter in check; an increasingly bizarre 
parade of skanky associates and freaky acquaintances (including the 
unforgettable El Duce); and, in a bit that's arguably worth the 
price of admission, a visit with one of Courtney's old boyfriends 
that culminates in an obscene rant to the camera.  May your audi-
ence talk back to the screen as wittily as ours did.  (Rated "R"/
109 min.)

Grade: F (or A, as a unintentional comedy)

Copyright 1998 by Michael J. Legeros
Movie Hell is a trademark of Michael J. Legeros

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