When we're introduced to emaciated, bug-eyed and trembling Bobby Liebling, the 50-ish frontman of the frequently dormant cult metal band Pentagram and the subject of this small-scale but weirdly engrossing documentary, he's showing off his past stage outfits: perfectly preserved hip-huggers purchased in 1967, "paisley shit," chiffon scarves. "I was saving them for when I got big. And that never happened, so I saved them forever," the crack, heroin and meth addict says in the sub-basement of his parents' Germantown, Md., home, where he has resided for decades. In the kitchen, Liebling's chain-smoking mother seems inured to the fact that her son will become a rock & roll suicide. But he promises his chroniclers, Don Argott and Demian Fenton, that he will not die: "If you guys want me around,... More >>>