Documentaries about artists can go one of two ways, either very insightful, with images that stick with you, as well as possibly entertaining, or very boring. This will often depend on the merit of the filmmaker, and how personally they connect with the artist and the work itself (some of it is more made for films to show just to get kids to fall asleep in school). Terry Zwigoff, however, is a filmmaker very much in tune with his subjects; his fictional films, the comic-book adaptation Ghost World is cynical (or skeptical) but with true heart, and Bad Santa is as dark as comedies can get. With his friend Robert Crumb he gets one of the most candid, and smooth, documentaries from the 90's. It may mean more to people who are from that period; Crumb is still a legend in the underground comic-book/art scene, not quite breaking into a 'mainstream' but still with his immense cult. But for one from the following generation, I was often mesmerized by his work.<br /><br />A good part of the film is just Zwigoff using his camera to get into the main mind-set of Crumb, not just necessarily with interviews with his family members or friends and co-workers (though there is a lot of that), but also through the presentation of his work, often in medium close-ups, with awesome blues melodies and tunes in the background. Crumb's work is morbid, satirical, drug-inspired, occasionally racist (for a purpose), ultra-sexual (the Fritz the Cat adaptation film of his work was the first X-rated animated feature), and funny in most respects. One particular description by Crumb over a comic of a woman with a headless body being seductive for a main character is very fascinating, as it brings out several different reactions when reading it- laughter at the random-ness of the characters, romantic drama with the man's lusting for this headless woman, and pure odd-ness at what goes on here. You scratch your head in confusion, or maybe have to put it down in disgust, but if you have the stomach for it it's somehow rewarding. If nothing else, the actual form in the ink and use of colors is often miraculous.<br /><br />Then there are the interviews. With Bob Crumb himself he's always in a fairly good mood, very personable around those he loves and admires, and those around him- mostly the women whom have inspired, terrified, and amazed him over the years- and without any shame or shyness about his work. And when it comes to his family they too are just as candid; it's a little depressing, to be sure, to see the state of his brothers (Charles, in particular, who is actually an identifiable character for many outsiders in the world, only to an extreme), and the tales of his father. Some of this goes to explain some things about the psychology of the Crumb mentality, but the fact is Bob Crumb does let it all hang out in his comics, as he admits "usually instinctively". There is something about the subject of the artist as a confessional, as someone who is so personal that he can't necessarily projects to a specific 'audience'. It's appropriate, therefore, that a filmmaker like David Lynch produced the film; the similarities are striking in how they both reflect their own desires and hates with the idealized Americana of the 50's.<br /><br />At times 'Crumb' is a little un-settling, but never for the wrong reasons. It's not for the average comic-book fan, and for those who just love and respect artists in general will find much to admire in Crumb's style.