SCREEN: Leonard Cohen

Lunson's understated, fragmented narrative approach shows a strong understanding of Cohen's aesthetic. Lunson doesn't present his life in linear fashion, but instead cuts back and forth between time periods (as a child in Montreal; as a student at McGill University; as a bohemian poet walled up in the Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan), and harnesses a collage of other media forms (photo albums, caricatures, sculptures, old film footage) to create a splendid stream-of-consciousness effect that resonates deeply with Cohen's writings and music.

The film uses a tribute concert held in Sydney, Australia, last year as a framing device. The musicians seen in performance or discussion are a virtual who's who of alternative pop: Beth Orton, Nick Cave, Rufus Wainwright, Jarvis Cocker of Pulp and Bono and The Edge of U2, just to name a few. Wisely, Lunson allows them to perform for the most part (with Wainwright's stirring rendition of Cohen's "Hallellujah" being a standout) and then counters their interpretations with a quiet voiceover from Cohen describing the inspiration for his songs, allowing the viewer to get a deeper take on the man and his material.

The film is not without flaws. All the loving soundbites get to be a touch monotonous, and, in Bono's case ("He's our Shelley, our Keats!"), overreaching. Instead of hearing fans rave about how hip Cohen is, I would have preferred that Lunson have them reveal how Cohen influenced them musically. Also, the director's insistence on very tight close-ups is just irritating.

Yet these bits of questionable judgment hardly overtake the film's pleasures. While Cohen is an acquired taste, and Lunson's film doesn't entirely break through the dark enigma that surrounded him, this humorous and often revealing documentary comes close enough.