Don't check into this `Motel' unless you like stale Phish

Movie review

1/2 "Bittersweet Motel," documentary with the members of the band Phish (Trey Anastasio, Jon Fishman, Mike Gordon and Page McConnell). Directed by Todd Phillips. 80 minutes. Varsity. Unrated; includes nudity and some scenes of fans smoking marijuana.

In 1983, the members of the band Phish were attending the University of Vermont when they played their first show, an ROTC party. Partygoers were unreceptive, and drowned Phish out with a stereo playing Michael Jackson.

In Todd Phillips' "Bittersweet Motel," a documentary on the band, Phish singer Trey Anastasio gleefully recalls that moment, saying he defiantly waved a check at the audience, saying, "We got paid!"

And that, really, is the story of Phish. The band has heard the criticisms - "boring," "untalented," "Grateful Dead clones" - and laughed them off, all the way to the bank.

Despite no radio play and relatively unimpressive record sales, Phish emerged as one of the most popular rock bands of the '90s; the jam-happy band sold a million concert tickets in 1999, taking in well over $20 million.

This documentary only half-heartedly tries to answer the burning question: "Why are these four hairy guys so popular?"

Phillips, who directed two previous documentaries ("Hated" and "Frat House") and the summer sleeper hit "Road Trip," spends surprisingly little time with the most interesting element of Phish, its neo-hippie fans. A harmonica-playing white guy in dreadlocks says you don't have to be on drugs to enjoy Phish. An Asian guy says it's all about dork-power. A couple of frat-boy types say it's fun to smoke pot and drink beer (which they are doing) and see Phish.

That's about it. There is little, if any, depth to this rockumentary, which doesn't even attempt to explore the obvious link between the demise of the Dead and the rise of Phish. Nor does it explore the possibility that the legions of Phish fans are turned off by the lyrical anger (or faux anger) and furious guitars of mainstream rock, and prefer the happy, simple messages and loopy jams of Phish.

Even more inexplicably, Phillips barely reveals anything about the band members in this uninspired documentary.

"Bittersweet Motel" is a brutally paint-by-numbers affair. Most of it is made up of unexciting concert footage - with far too many close-ups of Anastasio, who presses his upper lip against the microphone when he sings. (Not only is it unattractive, it's unhygienic.)

Anastasio gets the great majority of camera time, here clowning around in a gun shop (where he shows he's no Tom Green), there making up a dumb song about someone's new shirt (showing he's no Adam Sandler). He proves to be as uncharismatic in real life as he is on stage.

Jon Fishman, the drummer, occasionally pipes up, at one point wondering "why did I want to make a movie about me again?" (It's a very good question.) Keyboardist Page McConnell and sleepy-looking bass player Mike Gordon apparently exercised the Fifth Amendment, as they barely speak.

There are two mildly amusing moments, both involving the Phish singer. In one, Anastasio is riding a golf cart during a break at a huge outdoor festival; a young woman tries to talk to him, in mysterious tones. "I know you know what I'm talking about," she keeps saying. "I really don't know what you're talking about," he keeps replying. Abbott and Costello, post-bong hits.

The other funny scene comes during a New Year's Eve show at Madison Square Garden. At midnight, huge balloons are dropped from the ceiling. Phish fans have great fun batting the balloons around - and so does Anastasio, as the first few balloons come on stage. But soon it becomes a sort of inflatable avalanche, with Anastasio almost desperately popping the invading army of balloons with his guitar. You can almost see in his eyes he is having visions of being Killed by Giant Balloons.

As for the music, the unconverted may agree with the kids at that ROTC party.