Who Are You?

GLEN CAMPBELL: I'LL BE ME (B-minus) -  There's a fine line between courageous and exploitative. This is a rough look at singer Glen Campbell's slow descent into dementia, endorsed by his family members, who gladly appear.

At nearly two hours, this is too much reality filmmaking, with repetitive scenes of Campbell acting goofy, exhibiting his forgetfulness or lashing out at his wife and grown kids. Actor and TV director James Keach shows little imagination as he alternates between shaky performances on the farewell tour (with three of his children in the band) and trips to doctors for progressively bad news. He also fumbles the opening, failing to properly put Campbell's career in perspective.

Some scenes are quite touching, but too often the drama is deflated. A malfunctioning teleprompter at the start of a show should be more harrowing than it eventually comes off as.

Campbell's wife, Kim, gives it a gallant try, but she is unable to carry the film. Talking heads as diverse as songwriter Jimmy Webb and U2's the Edge provide little insight. And you might get tired of hearing "Gentle on My Mind," which cycles through with regularity.

This would have been better as a one-hour special.

LAMBERT & STAMP (B-minus) - This is the story of the two would-be film auteurs who shaped the image of The Who and settled for being managers to one of the richest bands in rock history. The problem is, Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp aren't all that interesting as subjects of a documentary.

In fact, they aren't even the most interesting ones or the most talented artists in their respective families.  Lambert is the son of a renowned composer/conductor Constant Lambert and grandson of a sculptor/painter. Stamp is the brother of acclaimed actor Terence Stamp.

Director James D. Cooper, in a debut after a career as a cinematographer, shows a fondness for these old blokes and for the surviving Who members -- the endlessly indulgent Pete Townshend and the endlessly one-dimensional Roger Daltry. They and a bunch of graying pals spin tales of the mad, mod Swingin' Sixties. Red-nosed Richard Barnes ("Barney") is the most fun; he seems to have especially savored the guys' decadent run. A deluge of archival footage -- much of it shot by Lambert and Stamp in their Warholian and Godardian pursuit of their shaggy-haired muses -- dredges up the long-gone scene. The current talking-head interviews of the grizzled boys tend to ramble; Stamp is especially indulged.

Lambert, a Brian Epstein type, spent the '70s in a spiral of drink and drugs, and he followed Keith Moon to the grave, in 1981. Stamp, who had the manner of a mobster back in the day, retains his working-class accent and is an agreeable enough fellow. He just doesn't make for compelling cinema.

If you want a doc about the Who or some kick-ass classic arena rock, look elsewhere.

BONUS TRACK
Cambell, on his final album, covers the epic popsters Guided by Voices, with Robert Pollard's "Hold on Hope":

One of the highlights of "Lambert & Stamp" is footage of Pete Townshend playing for the men a demo of "Glittering Girl." Here's how it turned out: