I’ve watched quite a few films and videos about The Doors, from various collections to concert footage to Oliver Stone’s twisted yet fascinating motion picture. And I’ve read a number of books from ones written by Jon Densmore to Ray Manzarek to Jerry Hopkins and Danny Sugarman to the much-maligned Patricia Kennealy.

All this and I wasn’t really a Doors fan during their heyday although I came to appreciate them fairly early on and have warmed much more to their music in the past couple of decades.

So it was with some trepidation that I approached When You’re Strange, a new documentary by director Tom DiCillo, narrated by Johnny Depp. Shown at Sundance earlier this year, the doc was recently released on DVD and Blu-Ray.

Most interesting is the reliance on only footage of The Doors, some never seen, rather than the well-worn technique of talking head interviews with people related to the project now commenting on what happened then. For that, it brings us a fresh approach on a well-traveled topic.

But the film has some obvious shortcomings. The narration delivered in a dry, matter-of-fact tone by Depp, is very basic. There is virtually nothing there for fans of the group who have followed, read and watched most that has come before. It’s really geared toward people just discovering the group.

Worse, the film glosses over some rather important aspects of The Doors story. For instance, almost no time is devoted to the album Morrison Hotel, which was really The Doors comeback album of sorts after Soft Parade. Though the latter enjoyed some commercial success, it critically received a mixed reaction. Morrison Hotel was a back-to-roots record that resonated with their fan base. But here it’s given one or two sentences before launching into L.A. Woman, their last record.

Also glossed over, Morrison’s relationship with Kennealy, which most of the other Doors evidently were almost totally unaware. But it’s clear although Morrison always returned to his common-law wife Pam Courson, there is definitely something to the story of his pagan bride Kennealy and until that is fully explored a big part of the picture is missing.

Finally, the circumstances of Morrison’s death hold to the original story, highly unlikely, that he died in a bathtub in his Paris apartment of a heart attack. That Morrison was planted in the ground before his family was even notified suggests some sort of cover-up. And there are plenty of characters, namely Courson and her connection, Alain Ronay, who appear to have had much motivation for one.

Many different stories have emerged over the years of what really happened. The most credible has surfaced from a Ronay confession of sorts. In varying accounts of it, he tells of Morrison actually overdosing on heroin in his apartment with Courson present but nodding off. In yet another version given in 2007 by a supposed friend of Morrison’s, Sam Bernett, it places the OD in the rest room of a Paris club and has drug dealers bringing him to the apartment.

There is no incontrovertible evidence to support any of these, but Ronay’s story rings truer than others because it’s supported by a number of sources. Marianne Faithfull, who was with Ronay during that time, has indicated some knowledge to support it but simply won’t comment fully from what appears to be fear of retribution even at this late date.

The absence of discussion of any of these possibilities detracts from the film. Since Morrison’s family is intimately involved in the making of When You’re Strange, that is no surprise.

Still, there is much to like about DiCillo’s treatment and the rare and previously uncovered footage is a delight, particularly the segments from HWY, an unfinished film by Morrison near the end of his life. How DiCillo connects this with the story is startling and ingenious. Also, there is an air of intimacy about the film that has been unequalled in previous efforts. And some of the most interesting material is in the extras that feature interviews with Morrison’s sister and father, who appears to be a man who has come to realizations and an appreciation about his son he couldn’t and wouldn’t when Jim Morrison was alive.

Stones In Exile is yet another companion piece to the recently remastered Stones classic album Exile On Main Street. This is a more conventional rock doc but is brought off nicely by director Stephen Kijak.

There is no new film footage from the the south of France, in particular the infamous site of much of the recording, Keith Richards’ home Villa Nellcote. But there is some footage from the unreleased C*Sucker Blues and a plethora of insightful and spectacularly photographed and well-known black and white stills taken by Dominique Tarle during his six-month stay at Villa Nellcote.

In fact, because of the way in which the film is cut, the b&w, and sometimes color, photos make you feel you are watching moving pictures. Accompanied by interviews, which are meticulously and unobtrusively attributed throughout, or chatter from the Exile master tapes along with tunes from the album, the stills come alive and show the story unfolding.

It’s quite masterful the way Kijak cuts it and it’s preferable to old silent, 8 mm or some other type of film stock because it is at once intimate but also keeps the viewer at a distance preserving the mystique and legend of the happenings.

Told in the words of many of the participants, most prominently The Stones themselves, this film further fills in the picture of an extraordinary time period when the group was in tax exile starting in the spring of 1971, recording in the basement of Richards’ house with less-than-ideal conditions on many levels, not to mention a rather dark and foreboding atmosphere brought on by drug use, live-in, hangers-on and nefarious characters.

Some inanne interviews with younger musicians mar the festivities but some good ones enhance them, such as with Sheryl Crow, Liz Phair in the bonus material and Don Was, who produced the extra disc of unreleased material for the album release. The extra interviews with members of the band, particularly Richards and Mick Taylor, are also all noteworthy.

Mick Jagger and drummer Charlie Watts are also shown touring Olympic Studios in London and Stargroves, Jagger’s former home at which the group recorded with their mobile unit, both locations also sites at which Exile tracks were laid down. Some interest in these but mostly a showcase for Jagger to strut about. 

The third film I’ve spent some time with this summer is quite different from the previous two in that it is a fictionalized account of the seminal girls rock band, The Runaways.

Based on the book by lead singer Cherie Curie, Neon Angel: The Cherie Curie Story, the film also focuses on Joan Jett, but is really Curie’s story and it is a fascinating one. Jett says not everything in the film is entirely true or accurate, but she was on the set every day and appears very supportive of this effort to tell the band’s story.

Dakota Fanning gives a stunning performance as Cherie, right down to her look, despite getting less press than Kristen Stewart, who does a credible job of portraying Jett. Also of special note is Michael Shannon’s extraordinary take on the band’s manager, the infamous Kim Fowley, a true rock ‘n roll Svengali. Shannon shows Fowley in all his histrionics and eccentricities, with much to love and hate about him.

Despite this being an obvious work of fiction by Floria Sigismondi (writer with Curie and director) for the screen, she delivers an entertaining, emotional and enlightening tome about the group.

Curie’s home life figures prominently in her story and her relationship with twin, Marie, played by Riley Keough.

She was only 15 when she joined the band as the lead singer, and by the way had never actually sung lead before, so it’s quite amazing that she was off at such a young age traveling in a rock ‘n roll band, hitting all the funky and low-life places around the underbelly of the country that many often older aspiring groups experience.

In the end, the drugs, sex and rock ‘n roll prove too much for her and she leaves the group amid much rancor. She still would later have to live through more demons before emerging from the darkness of the rock lifestyle.

If nothing else, the film sheds light on a much overlooked and underappreciated group. And they could really play.

All three of these films are worth checking out for various reasons. If you’re a longtime Doors fans, When You’re Strange, will offer little that’s new, but the unearthed footage makes up in part for that. Stones In Exile gives us another piece of the Exile puzzle, and The Runaways is a good ride for a dose of sex, drugs & R ‘n R, with a nod to an important ’70s rock band that deserves more recognition than it received at the time.