The Carter (Adam Bhala Lough, 2009)

Lil Wayne is a madman.

I watched The Carter, the controversial documentary on the rapper, who nearly had the release stopped, more out of curiosity than respect or appreciation for the performer. I listened to some of "The Carter III" and thought it straddled the line between brilliant and unlistenable, but that's as far as my delving into Dwayne's oeuvre goes. Not surprisingly, I came out of the film with more curiosity and maybe a little less respect and appreciation for him. Watching the doc, it's no wonder he tried to have the release stopped; talk about getting a long, hard look at yourself. Jesus.

Lil Wayne is a mess.

And this film proves it. It's about as naked a look at the rapper as we're likely to ever see. Lough and his crew went old school, Pennebaker style, and they show it all: the highs ("The Carter III" selling a million copies in its first week; ecstatic live shows), the lows (Wayne's abuse of cough syrup is clearly a big, big problem, and the people closest to him know it), and the even lower lows (seeing Lil Wayne end an interview with a European journalist because he asks about jazz and poetry is one of the most disgustingly childish acts of an artist taking himself too seriously I've ever seen - it's pretty shocking).

Lil Wayne is a monster.

And that scene proves it. His forehead crack tattoo and declaration of "I'm Frankenstein!" proves it. His disregard for his own well-being proves it. The thing about great documentaries is this: you can love the film and hate the subject. Now, this isn't quite a great documentary, but I don't envy the filmmakers. They had their work cut out for them, and what they must have gone through to make sense of all the footage of the mumbling rapper feigning insight, I can't imagine.

Lil Wayne is a man.

Output be damned, I'm by and large unimpressed by the prolific Wayne. True, he's always "writing" (he says he doesn't write anything down, lest it be published after his death like Cobain's diaries - but you know what I mean), and he's always recording...but a lot of it is shit. Obviously, he doesn't think that, chuckling along at the most infantile pun. The so-called "Rebirth Sessions" are especially striking, as a strung out Wayne struggles to hit his auto-tuned notes and dicks around on an electric guitar. I wasn't this worked up while I watched, the film, but the more I think about it, the more impressed I am with the filmmakers for presenting an artist as a fallible, fucked up human being, and the less I'm impressed with Lil Wayne himself. I'm sure the latter part wasn't Lough & Co.'s intent. It's just a byproduct of the dissection they facilitated in making such a hugely unflattering film. [B] 75min