Twenty years ago, a four part Phil Spector documentary would likely have opened with a montage of his timeless teen symphonies, interspersed with gushing tributes from Bruce Springsteen or Amy Winehouse, or any of the many, many artists to whom he was a direct inspiration. But then February 3, 2003 happened. And so – inevitably; rightly – we instead begin here with the 911 call made by his chauffeur that night. “I think my boss killed someone,” Adriano De Souza says. Why, the operator asks. “Because... he, he have a lady on the floor and he have a gun in his hand,” he stammers in response.
The lady in question was of course Lana Clarkson. And it is to directors Sheena M Joyce and Don Argott’s great, great credit that she is here three-dimensionalised, rather than referred to – as she was during much coverage of the murder trial – as ‘a B-movie actress’. Her story – her full story – is as much the focus here as Spector’s.
