It's impossible to overstate the impact of The Stooges. They mined a tough vein, and brought to the surface something wild and feral. Iggy Pop calls the group "Dionysian". In the timeline of Rock, one could say that The Doors pointed the way, The Stooges barreled down the path where, at the far end, lurked the Pistols. In that sense, The Stooges bridged two generations, psychedelic and punk, and maintain relevance well into the following century.
Jarmusch is well placed to tell their story. He's best where the bands' origins and early years are concerned: working class kids creating something together under insurmountable odds. The Stooges aggression, their preference for cold-cocking an audience with short, industrial, bursts, rather than meandering album-side long songs popular at the time, sets them far apart from their contemporaries. Jarmusch does a good job with this material. I found myself really caring about these guys.
But once The Stooges are settled into the comparably mundane role of a studio act, the narrative tends to drift. There are inklings of what pulled the band apart. These are mentioned but not explored. There is next to nothing about Iggy's solo career, which would have filled a huge gap in the timeline. As it happens, The Stooges are presented in their ferocity as youths in the Sixties and Seventies, and then there is a leap through time to Coachella 2003. Now they're ready to be your grandparents.
It feels to me that Jarmusch missed his mark. He's done so much other work with Iggy. This could have been a wild ride. Instead it starts well, and then settles into the tropes of a PBS profile. It could be that Jarmusch's usual detached, ironic style simply cannot match the in-your-face, ferocity of The Stooges. Hence a straightforward documentary.