A talkie. And not much else. The nonstop talker is one Timothy "Speed" Levitch, free spirit, political subversive, raving lunatic, and part-time tour guide on a Gray Line double-decker in Manhattan, reeling out a tangle of verbiage ("I was re-emerged into my own naiveté") in a Porky Pig voice. He's a character, all right, and perhaps a periodic pain in the neck, and above all a human being -- but not a movie unto himself. Bennett Miller's tightly framed documentary portrait of him is shot, appropriately, in poverty-row black-and-white. (1998) — Duncan Shepherd
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