I love Paul Williams. I love his songwriting, and I adore him as a record producer/Antichrist in Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise. But I loathed Paul Williams Still Alive, a documentary about the musician climbing his way back after years spent in the druggy wilderness and subsequently push for sobriety. This can be attributed to one Stephen Kessler, a never-quite-was director who openly seeks to make this film his own comeback and therefore makes himself the true subject of the documentary. His narcissistic rudeness is overpowering, and his "I'm the real story!" antics make those of Morgan Spurlock and Michael Moore look like Steve James' professionalism. One of the worst movies I've seen this year.
My full review is at Spectrum Culture.