Colin Abrahall of GBH in "Punk's Not Dead"

Punk rock documentaries in general are pretty tedious and boring. It’s kinda like patiently waiting for Britney Spears to finally “off” herself, or fantasizing that Osama Bin Laden would quickly release a screamo/rap hybrid LP with Jerry Only for some quick cash.

(Incidentally, right before I sat down to pen this, I walked by two girls pummeling each other into ongoing traffic in front of the Wendy’s on Main Street. Punk rock. Note to self: Must go home later and crank a Shangri-Las single and a Muffs album.)

Having said that, you could do a hell of a lot worse than checking out this well put together and amazingly edited film where the best (and worst) parts come in the form of its interviews. Mike Ness of Social Distortion is always a hoot, as he still seems not to know where the hell he is—in an oblivious, Dee Dee Ramone charming way. So is Captain Sensible; Ian Mackaye should be waterboarded; Billie Joe seems in the closet; Gregg Ginn looks awful; Tim Armstrong is retarded; Becki Bondage is still hot; and Keith Morris still should cut those stupid dreads off.

The best moments show up halfway through with the animated segments of various tour hi-jinks. My fave is the Damned setting their roadie/tour manager on fire whilst he’s swerving all over the road in their van and getting pulled over by the cops on a motorway! (“Is someone on fire?”) Social Distortion prank calls in a fleabag hotel and more! Another highlight is the U.K.SUBS naming every member who ever did a stint with them over the years—hilarious!

The film only takes a nosedive (at least for me) toward the end when Hot Topic, the Warped Tour, commercialism, malls and hypocritical tuneless dummies like Anti-Flag, Fall-out Boy, Good Charlotte, etc. show up with their dim-witted faces and you really realize how much more rebellious Iggy (though his appearance here with Sum-41 was truly depressing, to say the least), Little Richard (gay and black in the ’50s and having hits about committing sodomy), Gene Vincent (black leather, drugs, guns, copious amounts of alcohol and a cancerous leg) and Jerry Lee Lewis (marries 13-year-old cousin, shoots his bass player in the stomach, then fires him when he doesn’t show up to practice) were than any of these johnny-come-lately alterno-twits who play corporate-sponsored teen rebellion festivals.

This documentary doesn’t come close to classic punk-docs like Another State of Mind, The Decline of Western Civilization, The Ramone’s End of the Century or Turbonegro’s The ResErection. But it’s not chopped liver either, due to its rapid editing and some rare as hell punk footage. Hell, you have to admire any filmmaker who includes footage of the classic anti-punk propaganda television episodes of Chips (Ponch beats the hell outta the band “Pain” and celebrates by going to a disco at the end of the episode) and the classic Quincy segment from the truly terrible, disco-fried, coke-snorting, Loveboat-watching ’70s. Worth it for this alone. Check it out.