Michael Pitt's Blake is Kurt Cobain. There, said it. The icon doesn't merely 'inspire' so much as haunt every narcotic-slurred stumbling, mumbling, pissing, jamming, OD-ing and macaroni'n'cheese-making frame. "It's a very personal portrait of an artist in crisis," says producer Dany Wolf and, from the look to the music to the death, Gus Van Sant's film is the perfect tribute to the Nirvana frontman.
All the while surrounded by vicarious hangers-on, talking to him about groupie sex while he's writing about "the long journey from death to birth", Blake's decline is a lonely, miserable one. Monumentally uneventful at times (there is, thankfully, no commentary: "Here's Blake in the woods... Still there... Still woody... Autumn is a super season, isn't it?"), it's to Pitt's credit that we sympathise for his character's 'rock'n'roll cliché' woes.
A Pitt-fall though is the inclusion of a video by the actor's band, Pagoda, which makes him seem like the less-talented hanger-on he says he wanted to avoid becoming in his DVD-exclusive interview. Meanwhile, in a decent Making Of, the general consensus is how liberating the whole scriptless thing was. "It's not a movie, more an art piece," babbles Lukas Haas.
The film's absolutely not for everyone - some will leave, most will snooze - but if you're ready for Last Days, it won't make you want to be a rock star, it'll just mesmerise you into feeling like one. And if you don't get it, well, Nevermind.