To the aforementioned crowd of Johnston followers, there is not much in the way of revelations here, as his trajectory as an underground musician is well documented. But the joy doesn’t necessarily have to come in the discovery, merely in the recollection.

If you’re a Daniel Johnston fan, you probably already know about The Devil and Daniel Johnston. After premiering at Sundance in January 2005, the documentary about one of the more famous and troubled outsider musicians was kicked around to several film festivals (SXSW 2005 and True/False 2006, among them) before being granted a proper theatrical release—a delay that seems a strange strategy by distributor Sony Pictures Classics: Wait until all of the buzz and anticipation has worn off, and then release the film. Couple that with the fact that both at its premiere and now at its theatrical release the film has been met with less-than-stellar reviews from critics, questioning both Johnston’s talent and director Jeff Feuerzeig’s ability to make a balanced documentary that doesn’t idolize its subject too much. There are two key points that these critics (and perhaps SPC) are missing: One, that Johnston’s following could not reasonably hope for a better film about him. Second, those unfamiliar with Johnston’s body of work—but who are open-minded or maybe even inclined to like outsider art—would be hard-pressed to find a better introduction to this particular subject.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston is a classically made documentary that simply follows the ups and downs of Johnston’s life (from being called “the greatest living songwriter” by Kurt Cobain to almost wrecking a plane), until the viewer is caught up with where Johnston is now. To the aforementioned crowd of Johnston followers, there is not much in the way of revelations here, as his trajectory as an underground musician is well documented. But the joy doesn’t necessarily have to come in the discovery, merely in the recollection.