An East Village guitar-store owner sold me a bootleg copy of this legendary Robert Frank documentary, which was suppressed by its subjects, the Rolling Stones. Full of arty effects and stony, fragmentative editing, the movie intermittently fascinates in its depiction of a day in the life of the Stones--a life that alternates between massive, almost unthinkable amounts of ego-gratification, and routine, torpid, everyday boredom. The intent seems to be an anthropological portrait of the habits of visiting alien gods: the Stones are made both otherworldly-regal and incalculably drab. Because of the scenes of groupie-shagging and substance abuse, Frank was forced to credit the Stones as "playing characters" in the end credits (if memory serves, Keith Richards plays "Pizza Delivery Man"), and the picture is available to be screened, by Mick-generated court order, only when Frank is present.