You know you’re wasting time on a documentary when you feel the urge to Wikipedia its subject while you’re in the middle of watching an entire feature film devoted to them. And once I had finished Dana Flor’s tedious music biodoc , I oddly felt like I knew even less about folk-rock legend than I did going into it. At a mere 80 minutes, the film should at least come across as tight and succinct (and chock full of information).
Instead, the narrative mostly centers DiFranco’s muted pandemic years — were they interesting for anyone? — and offers only a surface-level retelling of her rise to prominence in the 1990s, her innovations as an artist-entrepreneur and her songwriting prowess. It’s hard not to compare to more compelling punkumentaries about defiant female musicians of the 90s, including (2023), a deeply introspective examination of the Indigo Girls, and (2016), a pure-at-heart hangout flick consisting mostly of archival footage from the band’s touring heyday. Despite these docs’ opposing filmmaking styles (a story told mostly through interview versus a story told mostly through montage), they’re still able to impart something meaningful about these artists who resisted “rock chick” stereotypes.
In contrast, aside from joyfully showcasing DiFranco’s ever-changing fashion choices across her prime — from buzz cuts to cerulean dreadlocks to platinum blonde coifs — does not exactly allow us to revel in the years that made DiFranco a cult supersta.