PREMIERE.COM'S MOVIE REVIEW (posted 3/22/06)

Taking its cue from Backbeat rather than Walk the Line, the musical biopic Stoned focuses on a lesser-known rock icon, in this case Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones. A founding member of the Stones and, by most accounts, the fledgling group's leader, Jones proved instrumental in shaping the band's sound and attitude. Offstage though, he was a notorious party animal who liberally indulged in all the usual '60s-era vices, from free love to free dope. Eventually his hard-living ways pushed him out of the Stones and by the summer of 1969, Jones was holed up in his country home, where he died that July under mysterious circumstances.

It's not the most original biography, but you can't exactly blame Jones for leading such a clichéd rock-star life. You can, however, blame director Stephen Woolley for making such a clichéd rock-star film. A veteran producer (his credits include Breakfast on Pluto and Scandal) who is sitting in the director's chair for the first time, Woolley liberally borrows from a number of other, better behind-the-music exposes such as the aforementioned Backbeat (which he also produced), Sid & Nancy and The Doors. And just to prove that his cinematic education extends beyond rock biopics, he opens the movie with a direct reference to Sunset Boulevard, showing Jones' corpse floating face down in his pool.

From there, the story rewinds several months earlier when Stones road manager Tom Keylock (David Morrissey) brings local contractor Frank Thorogood (Paddy Considine) out to the house to spruce up the place. That's just his cover story, though—Frank's real job is to keep an eye on Jones (played here by Leo Gregory) and report back to Tom if he sees any seriously weird shenanigans going on. The straight arrow and the wild child don't get along at first, but it doesn't take long for Frank to be seduced into the rock god lifestyle. Meanwhile, Jones continues to try and escape his personal demons through drug abuse and kinky S&M games. Every now and then we're treated to flashbacks of better days, like the time Brian met the love of his life Anita Pallenberg or his first experience dropping acid, which is scored to—what else?—Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit."

That one musical cue sums up the main problem with Stoned: we've seen this movie before. As depicted here, there's nothing about Brian Jones that distinguishes him from any other self-destructive rocker. Gregory certainly throws himself into the part, but he's stuck playing a cipher. Still, he should be grateful that he doesn't embarrass himself like Considine, a good actor who is forced to play some truly dumb moments, like the scene where Frank willingly does a hundred push-ups in order to impress Jones' latest girlfriend. According to the press notes, Woolley spent ten years developing the film to make it seem "authentic." Maybe he should have devoted more of that time to making it interesting.—Ethan Alter