As documentaries go, I doubt I've ever finished watching one and felt I knew less about the subject than I did when I started. But that seems to be the case after watching Nick Broomfield's "Kurt and Courtney".

A character study of the filmmaker -- a dogged and determined fan intent on understanding its subject and unearthing some new tidbits of his life, all while fighting against difficult odds (Courtney, his skeptical sponsors) -- could have worked. Instead, Broomfield wants to play both Mulder and Scully, searching desperately for the conspiracy theory as well as asking the tough questions that any skeptic would undoubtedly ask. This doc is to Kurt, Courtney, and Kurt's death/suicide/murder as the Kramer Reality Tour is to Seinfeld. Yes, there are revealing portraits of friends and family, but also so much worthless conjecture and idle speculation as he fruitlessly looks to unravel the web of facts from the weave of fiction. No "witnesses" come across as credible and no follow-up research is presented to attempt to corroborate anything that anyone says. I found myself feeling sorry for Broomfield -- he tried to speak seriously with anyone who would speak to him, only to have each of his prospective Deep Throats fail in some way or another.

There's Kurt's friend Dylan Carlson, whose segment is led-in by two of his songs (which are quite decent, actually) in a blatantly obvious "I'll talk if you promote my music in your film" act of selfishness. Carlson then turns out to be an incoherent boob who can't put together a single sentence without first stumbling over his words for thirty seconds. He has shockingly little opinion on anything Kurt was feeling or thinking during the last few weeks of his life, yet despite not knowing his ass from his elbow, concludes that Kurt couldn't have killed himself (despite flubbing on any and all follow-up questions that question his logic).

There's the nutjob El Duce (can't believe that guy was only 35, he looked at least twenty years older) who claimed he was offered 50 G's to kill Cobain. He also cannot answer follow-up questions about his story (or chooses not to). There's the lady who leaves a note on Broomfield's car, asking him to meet her in a basement where he will be introduced to K&C's former nanny. Neither of these characters knows anything concrete either, but they think that Kurt must have been murdered. They are speculating, but at least they say so.

At worst, people with loose connections to K&C heard there was a documentary filmmaker and appeared from the woodwork looking for notoriety, money, attention, or some combination thereof. At best, all the subjects had noble intentions but their stories are so disjointed that no sensible conclusions about Kurt's final days can be constructed even vaguely. Broomfield's no idiot -- he remains skeptical about everyone's accounts throughout the film -- which makes him the most credible and likeable person for much of this doc (save Kurt's aunt). But at the end of the day, he knows he's got nothing, hence he goes for broke trying to humiliate Courtney at a charity function (a carbon copy of the finale of Michael Moore's "Roger and Me"). Which again accomplishes nothing.

[note: I read some reviews on Amazon after writing this post, and of course, my interpretations are nothing new. But these were my feelings right after watching the film for the first time, and these thoughts were fresh during and immediately after seeing the film. And it's my diary for my thoughts -- no matter now far behind the times they may be. Remember, I didn't even know what a blog was until a year ago. I'd like to think that my blissful ignorance is part of my appeal, if indeed I have any].