THE STORY IS HAZY.  The plot may seem to amble along and then take a few detours, but that's just part of its unpredictable charm. The story, like the man, is one of contradictions.  This is a fictitious biopic about a legendary rock star whose name we never mention, or whose songs we never hear.  It’s a tribute to a man who in 1973 was arguably the most famous person alive, but turned his back on celebrity, marriage and sobriety.  We drift with him through this booze-soaked, stoner fog of debauchery, in a year that he called his "lost weekend”.  It was a turbulent time; one that, in many respects, parallels our own present day, which may account for the fact that each character the rock star encounters is bit kookier than the next, and have wildly different reactions to his fame. He awakens one morning in a strange woman’s bedroom in a vast mansion in the Hollywood Hills.  To complicate matters, the woman is married, her dog is missing and her butler has dreams of stardom.  As events unravel, hijinks ensue.

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