Damn!

Mr. Fisher-Cohen captures Mr. McMillan's transformation from a guy with a funny look and line into someone who believes his own hype and misconstrues his Warholian 15 minutes for widespread popularity and influence. It's a dismaying portrait and, here in the YouTube age, a direct hit.

Damn! clearly knows a thing or two about fameballs, but it leaves the rest of the heavy lifting to the viewer.

Damn! would be a more insightful condemnation of the exploitation process if it didn't reek so strongly of exploitation itself.

Even at 73 minutes, the film is, well, too damn long.

The director ultimately treads too fine a line between exposé and cash-in, in part because he belabors his thesis. Sure, McMillan is at least half charlatan, but 20 minutes into Damn! it's clear that he's also a sad, possibly disturbed man who needs a compassionate caseworker more than the attention of a fickle public or ambitious documentarian.

Little more than a rehash of old news.