Doc selections from SXSW: Films on Carl Lewis, Bum Phillips, Sam Altman, the Butthole Surfers, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Reviews of five new documentaries from South by Southwest 2025
I was not down in Austin for South by Southwest this year; in fact, the only time I’ve ever made it there was the 2015 fest, ten years ago. I’d love to get back down there one of these years.
However, I did obtain screeners for several documentaries that showed at this year’s fest, and here are my reviews of five. I have no information on when any of them might be released—and SXSW films can sometimes take a while—but all will eventually see the light of day.
I’m Carl Lewis!
Carl Lewis was one of the greatest Olympic athletes of all time, winning 9 gold medals across four different Games between 1984 and 1996, but he was also a widely controversial figure, for mostly unfair reasons. He would seem to be an ideal documentary subject, and he is, in this portrait directed by Chris Hay and Julie Anderson, and featuring extensive contemporary interviews with Lewis.
The media was a bit dickish to Lewis back during his track career, although he could sometimes return the favor. He also made ill-fated attempts to become an actor and singer.
Lewis, now in his 60s, has his say about how he was treated over the years and also continues to deny the two big longstanding rumors about him- that he’s gay, and that he used performance-enhancing drugs. He does reveal, however, that he’s never been in a long-term romantic relationship.
The filmmakers do a good job presenting old footage of some of Lewis’ most memorable competitions, including the 1988 race against Ben Johnson and the subsequent PED scandal that got Johnson disqualified, and the 1991 battle with Michael Powell over who could break the long jump record (you’ve never seen the long jump look this exciting in your life.) However, when it comes to getting at the core of who Lewis is, the film is not quite so successful.
Love Ya, Bum!
And speaking of archival sports docs with an exclamation point in the title…
There’s something special about the Houston Oilers, an NFL team that no longer exists, which featured a bunch of elements over the years — those weird blue uniforms, carpet-style artificial turf, the Astrodome, the run-and-shoot offense… — that are even more long-gone from the league.
Love, Ya, Bum! is the story of Bum Phillips, the Oilers’ coach in the second half of the 1970s, and a Houston-area folk hero.
Featuring lots of ex-players and NFL luminaries extolling the virtues of the late coach, the documentary is built a big contradiction: He was a legitimate small-town Texas good ol’ boy who served in the military, yet he was a nice-guy players’ coach, a proto-Ted Lasso who fostered a family atmosphere and is largely remembered as a kind man.
I really enjoyed this as an examination of a sports figure who was around before my time, and also as a look at a very different era of the NFL.
Deepfaking Sam Altman
Here’s a super-timely doc about artificial intelligence and the ethics thereof. The premise takes way too long to set up, but it ends up in a place that I ultimately liked.
Directed by Adam Bhala Lough, one of the people behind that HBO Telemarketers show, the documentary is clearly heavily influenced by Michael Moore and Roger and Me, except it gives the whole thing an A.I. twist.
Lough wants to make a documentary about the rise of A.I., and tries to interview Sam Altman, the founder of OpenAI. But when Altman won’t agree… he decides to create a deepfake, AI representation of Altman, and interview him instead.
Possibly my favorite scene in the film is when Lough interviews journalist Kara Swisher, for tips on how to deal with a deepfake version of a real person she has interviewed.
Once the fake Altman exists, I was on board, but way too much time is spent on setup.
Butthole Surfers: The Hole Truth and Nothing Butt
Well, this one wins the award for best title of the festival, no doubt.
It’s a documentary, directed by Tom Stern, about the anarchic punk band The Butthole Surfers, and their hellraising, drug-taking, gig-ruining heyday in the 1980s, mostly in the festival’s hometown of Austin. What we see of that one-of-a-kind Austin scene, of the Slacker era, is one of the better things about the film. (The king of the Austin scene and director of Slacker, Richard Linklater, who once worked with the band, makes the inevitable appearance.)
It’s the story of a bunch of punk rockers who did typical outrageous punk rock stuff, a long time ago, who now find themselves looking back on it, from the vantage point of being 60 or so years old and living a very different life now. This is GWAR!, from four years ago, had a similar premise and was similarly delightful.
I had a blast watching this, and I say that as someone who never especially cared for the band’s music.
Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror
The Rocky Horror Picture Show, somehow, turns 50 years old this year, and so we have an all-encompassing documentary about the phenomenon’s history.
It’s the story of Rocky Horror’s creation, in several steps: How the movie was made, how the cult was formed, and then the effect it had on people. If you’re a fan, you might not learn a lot that you didn’t know already, but it’s still worth the watch.
Pretty much all the living cast members, including Brad and Janet (Barry Bostwick and Susan Sarandon), are participants, as is Richard O’Brien, who co-created the stage show and co-wrote the movie, and is seen playing the different songs on an accoustic guitar. (The documentary was directed by Linus O'Brien, Richard’s son.)
The film has no trouble putting across just how important this phenomenon has been to people. The fact that multiple generations of small-town queer people were able to “find their people” for the first time, by discovering Rocky Horror may be a cliche, but dammit it’s a powerful cliche.
Much like You Don’t Nomi a few years back, Strange Journey seems destined to run as a double feature with Rocky Horror itself.