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To any devotee of rock music the name Jim Morrison is notorious. As co-founder and lead singer of The Doors (taken from Aldous Huxley's "The Doors of Perception") he reached legendary status in the late 1960s, epitomising the svelte, elegiac and puzzling aura of the archetypal rock star. The spiritualistic Morrison, also known as The Lizard King after an incident in his childhood, was the more peculiar, American version of Mick Jagger, living a bohemian lifestyle in Los Angeles before escaping marginalisation and forming the celebrated band with fellow UCLA film school student Ray Manzarek. After Robby Krieger and John Densmore joined the ensemble, The Doors penned such hits as "Riders on the Storm," "Light My Fire," and "L.A. Woman," captivating a young Oliver Stone in the process. Francis Ford Coppola, a fellow alumni of UCLA, even used "The End" in his masterful Apocalypse Now as a tribute to Morrison. The eclectic fusion of cryptic lyrics and the garage rock, blues and acid sound the band perfected has even enchanted celebrities as diverse as Snoop Dogg, John Travolta, Fatboy Slim and Tom Hanks. Such is their influential stature in modern cultural circles The Doors even have a whole floor dedicated to them in Cleveland, Ohio's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Stone, who was by 1991 a double Best Director Academy Award winner for Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July (and Best Adapted Screenplay recipient for Midnight Express), had the pick of Hollywood scripts thanks to his Oscar success but decided to explore this pet project by himself, writing the screenplay and interviewing key players in the controversial comportment he has trademarked over the years. Randall Jahnson is labelled as a co-screenwriter but "The Ultimate Story of Sex, Drugs and Rock 'N' Roll" is most certainly Stone's baby. Indeed, after writing the iconic Scarface and kicking a cocaine habit himself, the director knew all about the effects of drugs and unfortunately, especially for devout fans of the band, The Doors feels like an exercise in hearing distasteful tales of intoxication from the black sheep of the family. The frequency with which Stone places a bottle of alcohol in Morrison's hands - nearly every scene - grows so tiresome that even surviving band members have stated how utterly ridiculous the attempt at a biopic is. Morrison was definitely a disturbed individual, caught in the crossfire of stardom's vices and life's nuisances, but Stone pushes the self-destruct button too freely. Even when The Doors reconvene after a troubled few months and release the outstanding L.A. Woman album in the final quarter of the film, one wonders how an out of control sociopath could have ever produced such a fine piece of work. Maybe that's the nature of genius and Stone is trying to formulate a statement. It's an ignominy to Morrison's memory however that the audience is not treated to more of the lyrical mastermind and poetic architect tinges of his psyche. Even when we are, narcissism and self-absorption overshadow anything else and a fascination with death overrides every theme. This obviously could have been what Morrison resembled but Manzarek and Krieger have also picked up and concurred with this critique.
Luckily, the performances are what make this film. Val Kilmer's Morrison more than matches up with Benicio Del Toro's Che Guevara and Cate Blanchett's Queen Elizabeth I in terms of looking like their historical counterparts and the future Batman's mannerisms and singing voice are pitch perfect. On occasions it's nearly impossible to differentiate the actor's voice and gesticulations from Morrison's. This is by far the performance of Kilmer's career and really has to be witnessed to be fully appreciated and realized. The supporting cast includes Meg Ryan and Kathleen Quinlan as Morrison's main love interests, Pamela Courson and Patricia Kennealy, respectively, Kyle MacLachlan, Kevin Dillon and Frank Whaley as Manzarek, Densmore and Krieger, and even a youngish Michael Madsen. They are all secondary characters though and are introduced and re-introduced on whims, hurting the cohesiveness of the narrative but possibly an accurate portrayal nonetheless in a life story of such a livewire.
Like all binges The Doors is a long story of excess featuring few highs and numerous lows. Similarly to how Natural Born Killers has been criticised for glorifying violence, Stone could be seen to commemorate drugs and alcohol here with a true maestro's exceptional talents playing second fiddle to the overindulgence of an obnoxious and troubled soul fuelled by grandpa's cough medicine. Whichever way one views The Doors nothing can be taken away from how well the film is made. The glorious sheen Stone gives each frame is utter class and really sets the mood for watching a film set in the 1960s like a good Western sets an appropriate scene of, say, Texas in the 1860s. It's a meticulous piece of work and, like his Vietnam vocations, is certainly a special subject for the talented director. The Ed Sullivan Theatre in New York - which is now where David Letterman films his late night chat show - is presented perfectly, and even City of Angels landmarks like Venice Beach and Sunset Boulevard are impeccably captured. The shifts in time Stone uses in the film are also fitting. Not only are we presented with a traditional biopic structure, the director does not waste time with unnecessary events and commences and concludes the film at apt periods - an intriguing opening sequence recreates Morrison's family witnessing a car accident in New Mexico which was heavily influential on his life and lyrics, and the protagonist's Parisian grave is a fine climax.
The extras
Oliver Stone's commentary illuminates as much as one would expect and cushions the blow of having scene after scene of boozing. He frankly discusses casting, the performances, metaphors and symbolism, his own personal enthralment with Morrison and The Doors, and some of the technical methods utilized in the film. How the eight-minute 'Behind the Scenes' featurette and its shorter brother, a 'Making Of', made it on to this Special Edition disc is farcical as they simply show random footage from the shoot which lack coherence. A "Break On Through" music video and the song selector are also strange additions but it gives cheapskates a chance to listen to many Doors tracks for the price of the DVD.
The summary
An awe-inspired Oliver Stone's prophecy to interest the world in the history of an inspirational band is only partially fulfilled. So transfixed by his subject, the director/writer inexorably causes the sublime performances, especially from a stupendous Val Kilmer, to suffer. Most biopics consist of a calculated collection of misrepresentations masking an ugly truth. The Doors is the opposite but the film still strangely engages.
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