Around the 4th or 5th time that Frank "Pancho" Sampedro looks knowingly into the camera and asks how they can possibly capture "20 years of craziness in a few little questions," you get this urge to slap his hippy ass back to Mexico or wherever he came from with that bad moustache and nickname. Aside from these moments of Spinal Tap verite, you get Jim Jarmusch's idea of a rock and roll movie: long dull interviews and long dull performances. I like Neil Young and his music. I like Jim Jarmusch and his films. But unless you relish the idea of watching 3 middle-aged men standing in a circle hitting their whammie bars for 5 long minutes, stay home, put on "Rust Never Sleeps" & "Stranger Than Paradise", and have some of what Pancho's having.
Review of Year of the Horse
