To suggest Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre could also use some therapy is putting it mildly. In Dig! which won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, we watch him and his band self-sabotage over seven years, while ex-friends and contemporaries The Dandy Warhols rise to comparative greatness (a mobile phone advert, anyway).<br /><br />What elevates Dig! above its contemporaries is the immense, near-biblical comic-tragedy being played out: a depressingly honest treatise on art versus commerce and compromise. For all his "look at me, I'm a bloody genius" posturing, Newcombe is in fact revealed to be a singularly gifted, if immensely troubled, musician - far more talented than his rival, the Dandy's Courtney Taylor who narrates the picture. If Newcombe is Dennis Hopper, Taylor's Peter Fonda.<br /><br />Even sadder, Taylor appears to realise this, evinced by his weary, self-loathing voice-over: he knows his band won the battle - but at what cost? In truth, they sold out, made Indie-Lite records, kept their teeth nice and clean, and probably brushed their hair twice before bedtime - thus winning record contracts and a large tour bus. And jettisoning all credibility in the process. Newcombe, on the other hand, lives in filth, is continually busted, beats up fellow band members on stage, kicks hecklers in the head - and is last glimpsed in Dig! being ferried away by police, having lost the right to see his child.<br /><br />Two of the best films about rock's subculture have been directed by women: Penelope Spheeris's The Decline Of Western Civilization and this one  an instant classic the moment it was released.