We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen

Mere fandom is a problematic motive for making a documentary, which is why so many rock docs suck in such uniform ways. The litmus test for a good one is that it offers something even to those who don't particularly care about the subject's musical output. By this standard, Econo is only a slight improvement on The Nomi Song, Andrew Horn's recent paean to forgotten new-wave novelty act Klaus Nomi. Both films essentially say the same thing over and over—"See/hear how great this act was!"—while blowing off potentially interesting inquiries into scene sociology, the economics of low-level rock success and what it's like to live in the wake of fleeting cult stardom.

The Minutemen were a lo-fi, post-punk, blue-collar trio from San Pedro, California. Resolutely unglamorous and nebulously political (i.e., fond of the word fascist), they were adored by critics and a substantial cult following, but got a lot more famous after the death of guitarist D. Boon in 1985.

Irwin's We Jam Econo is your standard assemblage of grainy concert footage and home video, interspersed with talking-head input from surviving band members and a long roster of cult figures and former scenesters now in the grizzled grip of advancing middle age (e.g., Flea, Richard Hell, Jello Biafra). Aspiring documentarians ought to take note that too much of this sort of thing gives a film an insular and melancholy quality, as if it were the record of someone else's high-school reunion. —Cliff Doerksen