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Thanks in large part to its meticulous re-creation of the late-1960s and early-'70s rock scene and the uncannily authentic performance by Val Kilmer as legendary Doors frontman Jim Morrison, Oliver Stone's hypnotic film biography is standing the test of time. Capturing the carefree mood of the Age of Aquarius, the film charts the meteoric rise of the Doors on the California club circuit (including a memorable scene showing the creation of the hit "Light My Fire"), and chronicles the band's exploits with hallucinogenics and Morrison's battles against charges of public indecency on stage. Kilmer's performance is hauntingly perfect, and performances by Meg Ryan, Kathleen Quinlan, and Kyle MacLachlan are similarly impressive. The movie doesn't fully probe the depths of Morrison's character, but as a portrait of excess it is vividly true to the spirit of the self-destructive poet known to his fans as "The Lizard King."
--Jeff Shannon
From The New Yorker
Oliver Stone's film about the sixties rock group focusses on Jim Morrison, the Doors' lead singer and main songwriter, who died in 1971, at the age of twenty-seven. Morrison (played by Val Kilmer) presented himself as a combination of shaman and poète maudit, and he was a star in life and a legend in death because he made the physical, intellectual, and spiritual excesses of the counterculture sexy. The movie is pure exploitation-an extended, self-important freakout. Stone reduces the richly contradictory experience of that period to the myth of Morrison, and, in the process, reduces Morrison and the Doors as well: the movie restricts the viewer's freedom to imagine the sixties culture as anything but a movement with a single voice, or to imagine the Doors as anything but a metaphor. (Kilmer is physically convincing as Morrison, but his performance can be only an impersonation: what the script-by Stone and J. Randal Johnson-gives him to play is the icon, not the man.) For a while, the obviousness and flat-out vulgarity are sort of entertaining, and it might be possible to enjoy the movie as a camp classic if you could ignore the mean-spiritedness that keeps breaking through-the fundamental hostility Stone seems to feel toward his subjects. He wants to turn the audience (and himself) on, but the movie's bad faith and tabloidlike sensibility leave us exhausted and depressed; we feel like voyeurs of our own memories. Also with Meg Ryan, Kathleen Quinlan, and Michael Wincott; the other Doors are played by Kyle MacLachlan, Frank Whaley, and Kevin Dillon. -Terrence Rafferty
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker