Sam Jones thought he was going to make a film about Wilco recording their next album. Instead, he got a rather terrifying story about power struggles, corporate incompetence and a band defying nightmarish circumstances to emerge with a classic album and new contract.
For a start, Wilco drummer Ken Coomer was fired on the first day of shooting. Jones' camera doesn't actually record the incident, but it does capture the subsequent power struggle between main songwriter Jeff Tweedy and other main songwriter Jay Bennett. The dramatic high point of this story is a tense conversation in the control room between Tweedy and Bennett concerning an edit between two songs - a classic case of the conversation not being about what it ought to be about. It climaxes when the hunched and dogged Tweedy slips out of the room to throw up in a toilet down the corridor. ("I've always had migraines," he mutters as the camera watches him washing his face.)
The film is soon about the ever-widening gap between Bennett and the rest of the band. Bennett doesn't come across very well, tetchy and prone to make bitter little remarks under his breath, but then Tweedy himself comes across as one of the most awesomely passive-aggressive people ever to front a major band - soft-voiced, stubborn as a mule and a master at deploying a look of baffled suffering for the purpose of emotional blackmail. Sure enough, Bennett has soon been ejected from the band, and Tweedy's happiness and relief are almost physically palpable.
Then the film changes story, because what happened then was that Reprise Records decided that they didn't like the album and they kicked Wilco off the label. In a stroke of genius by the band and its management, and an act of colossal stupidity by the label, Wilco negotiated a parting deal whereby they were given the master tapes for free. They released the album on their website for free, Nonesuch Records eventually signed them up for a much better deal than they'd ever had at Reprise, and the album, when it was released on CD, got reviews to die for and was Wilco's biggest ever seller. As a direct result of the Wilco debacle, several members of Reprise's senior management lost their jobs.
As somebody points out at the end of the movie, the ultimate irony of all this is that Wilco were dismissed partly because Reprise's ultimate owner, Time/Warner, were cutting corners after a merger. But Nonesuch is also owned by Time/Warner, who ended up paying for the same record twice. You have to laugh.