14. Hearts Of Darkness: A Filmmaker's Apocalypse (Fax Bahr, George Hickenlooper, Eleanor Coppola, 1991)
Marketing itself as "the magic and madness of making Apocalypse Now", this documentary explores the increasingly troubled production of Francis Ford Coppola's 1979 epic. Bahr and Hickenlooper mixed Eleanor's behind- the-scenes footage of the original shoot with interviews from the cast to produce a frustrating but fascinating foray into the pitfalls of filmmaking. From Typhoon Olga tearing through a set (thus ruining a month's shooting) to Martin Sheen suffering a heart attack, Coppola could only watch in horror, in horror, as his film literally collapsed around him. Marlon Brando arrived to the shoot overweight, and so was filmed from the neck upwards wherever possible, with a body double brought in to portray Kurtz's imposing stature. Brando caused further disruption by admitting that he was yet to learn his lines or read Joseph Conrad's source novel, as well as endlessly picking over the finer points of Kurtz's mindset. At this point, Eleanor calculated that the shoot was six weeks behind schedule and $2 million over budget. Sheen's earlier scenes were scuppered by him cutting his hand open while striking a mirror (in a similar accident that befell Leonardo DiCaprio in Django Unchained; both actors were too "in the zone" to stop filming), yet he used this as an opportunity to confront his demons, namely alcohol. As he stares down into the camera lens, blood dripping across the carpet, Eleanor recalls that nobody was entirely sure what he would do next. Dennis Hopper, playing a crazed photojournalist, was immersing himself into Method acting to such an extent that he took cocaine to help him get into character. This led to a number of clashes with Brando, resolved only by filming their scenes on alternate nights, despite the script calling for them to be together for most of the third act. But perhaps most incredibly of all, President Marcos of the Philippines had loaned Coppola his helicopters in order to shoot the iconic air raid, only to recall them as they were needed to help fight off anti-government rebels. It wasn't only Coppola's own money that the film was sucking out of him, it was his sanity. He was heard to remark a couple of times that he intended to commit suicide. To him, the film wasn't like Vietnam - it was Vietnam. It's impossible to now hear The Doors wailing on the original soundtrack without thinking how it so easily could've been The End, indeed.
13. Fahrenheit 9/11 (Michael Moore, 2004)
Currently the highest-grossing documentary of all time, Moores tirade against the Bush administrations War on Terror may be perhaps condensed into one iconic, yet tragically absurd, image. It is that of George W Bush, sitting in a Florida classroom, reading The Pet Goat to an audience of children, teachers and news reporters. Upon being notified that a second passenger plane has hit the World Trade Centre, he looks blankly before him. Then back to the book. Then back to staring into space. For seven minutes. Its a scene that should be beyond parody, yet Moore has other ideas. His film opens with the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, before turning his attention to the Bush family - specifically their covert business deals with the Bin Ladens - and never letting go. His argument may be solid, but an overdependence on sideshows - such as writing a petition that asks Congress members to send their children into the front line - seems a lot like spinning plates. Far angrier than his previous Bowling For Columbine (which, incidentally, was bumped into the second-highest grossing spot within five days of this films release), Moore suggests that beneath the Presidents famous malapropisms lies a smirking warmonger. A man America should be ashamed to have elected as their leader - that is, unless anyone wants to recount the 2000 polls
12. George Harrison: Living In The Material World (Martin Scorsese, 2011)
Having already given Bob Dylan the three-hour documentary treatment in 2005s No Direction Home, Scorsese turns his attention to the "Quiet Beatle" for more of the same. The first half covers Harrisons contribution to the band (with McCartney offering something of an exclusive; the guitar riffs on And I Love Her were Harrisons), his incredulity at being recognised the world over, and how that fateful visit to the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi transformed him forever. The second half arrives as a spiritual awakening, of sorts, as Harrisons solo career sees him boasting a beard, brandishing a sitar and banging on about transcendental meditation. His letters home (read here by son Dhani) describe first-hand the noise and madness of Beatlemania, and which self-respecting Beatles fan can ever tire of never-before-seen footage? Theres an impressive line-up of talking heads gathered here, each with an anecdote or memory of Harrison that puts paid to his unfair reputation as the "forgotten Beatle". Naturally, McCartney and Ringo are the biggest draws, but theres Eric Clapton (whose love triangle with Patti Boyd and Harrison is settled thus: We were swapping a lot of things in those days), Terry Gilliam (who thanks Harrison for single-handedly financing Monty Pythons Life of Brian) and his widow, Olivia (who co-produced the film), with the perfect and most poignant last word.
11. Anvil! The Story Of Anvil (Sacha Gervasi, 2008)
When reviewing a documentary about a rock band, it is customary to mention just how you are reminded of that seminal mock...I mean rockumentary of the Eighties. Yet, for once, the comparisons are completely justified. Anvil are Spinal Tap. They became famous, then slipped away, lost in backstage corridors and became overawed at Stonehenge. Their drummers even called Robb Reiner, for crying out loud. Anyone who saw the band share a stage with the Scorpions at 1984s Super Rock festival in Japan will be wondering just why they havent enjoyed the same success as their peers. Indeed, the likes of Slash and Lars Ulrich go so far as to cite the Canadian rockers as an influence. So, where are they now? Singer/guitarist Steve "Lips" Kudlow delivers frozen food to schools, and Reiner works in construction, but the two original members, having promised in their teenage years to "rock together forever", are yet to go back on their word. One of their earliest efforts, Thumb Hang, about the Spanish Inquisition, is the best song David St Hubbins never wrote. Now in their fifties, they realise that their time at the top may have already passed, but with another album to promote their thirteenth - they have one last chance to prove otherwise. After superfan Tiziana Arrigoni contacts Lips to tell him she has arranged a lucrative European tour, things begin to look up. But after missing connections, running out of money, sleeping in bus stations and having to practically shake their fee out of truculent gig managers, hope is in short supply. After one particularly disastrous gig in Prague, a rather weaselly English lawyer asks Reiner why a band of Anvils stature are playing caverns when they should be filling out stadia. His response would make Nigel Tufnel proud: I can answer that in one word...two words...no, three wordswe havent got good management. We may laugh, but Gervasi (one-time Anvil roadie) ensures that were logging into iTunes as the closing credits begin to roll.