PUNK III: Life in Heck

KURT COBAIN: MONTAGE OF HECK (A-minus) - This fascinating mediation on the life of Kurt Cobain is a family-approved (though not family-friendly) stage-dive into the Nirvana leader's childhood, diary scribblings and art. It often has a dreamlike quality, as if we're road-tripping through Cobain's brain or strung out with him on heroin.

This is a video tour de force from Brett Morgen, the man behind the epic documentary "The Kid Stays in the Picture," where he made the colorful autobiography of Hollywood producer Robert Evans leap off the screen. Similarly, here, he reanimates one of the most important musical geniuses of the rock era, enjoying full access to every scrap, clip and image from the man's 27-year life. The movie confirms that Cobain, like John Lennon before him, channeled his issues of childhood abandonment into heart-stabbing songs that were perfectly attuned to the zeitgeist.

Morgen is not in a hurry (the film runs 135 minutes). He spends a good half hour exploring Cobain's childhood, and he lingers on home movie images of the innocent little boy. Random effluvia: a two-line to-do list of "(1) Learn to play your instrument and (2) Don't hurt girls when you dance." The screen flashes with a dozen or two diary entries of potential band names for what would become Nirvana. Another note: "A band needs to practice at least 5 times a week." We see scratched-out lyrics evolve into the classics we know by heart. We hear Cobain's voice, recorded on cassette, embellished with animations in graphic-novel style. Cobain's own art scribbles pop off the screen, crudely animated, as filmmakers like to do these days.

There are apparently no secrets left uncovered. You can imagine Cobain being horrified at spilling these intimate moments into the world -- childhood drawings of cartoon characters; an audio diary of his pathetic teen years; his step-mom announcing that adolescent Kurt was impossible to live with because he missed his real mommy, who had pawned him off on her ex and various other relatives (while dad Don Cobain looks on with anxiety and perhaps pent-up guilt). We also hear from a step-sister, his first real girlfriend, his parents, and, of course, Courtney Love and Krist Novaselic. (Dave Grohl is absent.)

The sweep of the film is enchanting. One minute we see a toddler mindlessly romping around his backyard with his toys (while a music-box version of "All Apologies" plinks away) and suddenly we see the grown man with his scraggly beard, now a tortured artist with that little boy still crying inside. So many images and clips are haunting. Imagine what it was like to be him. And then the tsunami of celebrity crashed down. Behind-the-scenes footage and outtakes from the legendary video for "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is accompanied not by the original recording but by a choir's cover version, presenting a heartbreaking omen to kick off the second half of the film.

And there seems to be no end to the music. Full versions of anthems like "Lithium" and "Territorial Pissings." A snippet of a demo of Cobain covering the Beatles. The MTV unplugged session.

Some viewers will recoil at this immense invasion of privacy; others will shrug and wonder what the big deal is about this loser junkie 20 years after he blew his brains out. In fact, Morgen's only significant misstep is the amount of time he spends on Cobain and Love's own home Betamax movies that document their bland heroin reveries or life with little Frances Bean. He wastes time on the tired rumors speculating about whether Love was shooting up during her pregnancy.

Otherwise, this is a unique fileting of every aspect of a sensitive human soul. It's an unprecedented unpacking of a life, a breathtaking glimpse at an ordinary boy and extraordinary, reluctant rock star.

At the two-hour mark, we start to sense that the end will come quickly. And it does. It did.

BONUS TRACKS 
Throughout the film we see examples of Cobain searching for ways to use the title "Verse, Chorus, Verse" (almost the title of "Heart-Shaped Box"), a fine example of his cut-and-paste songwriting style. It eventually appeared as a song on the "No Alternative" various-artists compilation:




The previously unreleased title track, "Montage of Heck":



Another rarity: Cobain performing "And I Love Her," as he descends into his heroin-fueled domesticity with Love:



Two minutes of blissful blistering rock 'n' roll: