The Doors (1991)

Rating: 4/10 (3 August 2010)

Oliver Stone, a director notorious for rewriting historical events to suit his own agenda, is in typical form in this epic aggrandizement.
Though Stone is often regarded as one of cinema's foremost chroniclers of the 60s, The Doors seems aimed not so much at those who "were there," & who might thus be expected to view the film from a nostalgic as well as a critical perspective, as it is at young people liable to be seduced by the film's idealistic glamor without questioning its historical validity. I know; I was one of their smitten multitudes at the time it came out. Hence the movie finds Stone (as usual) simply doing whatever he wants, with a kind of indulgence that can only be described as adolescentfrom having Jim Morrison quit UCLA Film School when he actually graduated from it to attributing the words of French symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud to Morrison himself. It wouldn't have been out of line if he'd marketed his film in conjunction with meal deals and "Doors" action figures, because that, in spite of star Val Kilmer's best efforts, is precisely what the script makes this story into. Peppered with cringingly bad but campishly fabulous dialog like "We're gonna fu*k death away, baby" and "Would you forget about The Doors? It's you they wantJim Morrison, the god of rock" Stone's script might have easily come right out of Spinal Tap; even if, in all fairness, 20-something rock stars in the prime of their careers do tend to be clichés...whether they're prodigiously brilliant lyricists or not.
By most accounts, there seems to be no doubt Morrison was probably as excessive as Stone portrays him here. In fact, the rock star's theatricality fits...and mostly conveniently renders superfluous...the director's penchant for the same. But even with so much real-life luridness to work with, Stone doesn't hesitate to repeatedly insert inventions.....such as in the scene where a jealously raging "Jim" locks a heroin-droopy "Pam" in the closet and sets it on fire.
On the positive side, Val Kilmer does a wonderful job here. His is one of those rare performances that is more psychic channeling than homage, and his physical resemblance to Morrison is uncanny. But Meg Ryan as the 18-24 year old Pamela Courson, Morrison's "cosmic mate," is absurd, and Kathleen Quinlan as his wife-by-Wiccan handfasting ceremony Patricia Kennealy is even more off the mark. The innately eccentric Crispin Glover as Andy Warhol is an interesting choice, and one that might have worked, if his hairpiece had only looked less like an Eva Gabor catalog accessory. The cinematography, as it is in most of Stone's films, is stunning, evoking other campy but beautiful road films like Easy Rider & Zabriskie Point.
Those who care enough about The Doors to inquire further are advised to read Danny Sugarman's biography "No One Here Gets Out Alive." As for Stone, 18 years later, he's still in a Tim Drummish/Peter Panish haze, and his penchant for action figureyfrom entertainers to politicians.is strong as ever.