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Its quite a non sequitur when Feuerzeig cuts to the present-day Johnston with white hair and an awe-inspiring potbelly.
The above is a little misleading.
(Im a loner … Im a sorry entertainer, ad infinitum.)
But theres also a lot of the-artist-walking-among-the-flowers-while-the-world-says-get-a-job stuff.
In that might lie its value.
His holy quest is to prove to himself that the artists life is not a dance with the devil.
Its rather touching when the alt-weekly editor Louis Black beats himself up for pressing for Johnstons committal.
He asks: Would he have committed Van Gogh too?
A band he ends up performing with first lays eyes on him as hes being attacked by dogs.
