Dubbed the Mayor of Sunset Strip by Sal Mineo, Rodney Bingenheimer has spent most of his days on that flashy, trashy, glitzy, glamorous stretch of street in Los Angeles. He left his quiet hometown in northern California in 1965 when his autograph-hound mother dropped him off near the home of Rodney’s teenage star crush, Connie Stevens, and wished him well.

From the age of 16, Rodney’s mild manner and shy ways, coupled with his insatiable appetite for the seductiveness of celebrity, enabled him to rub shoulders with most of the rich and famous in the world of rock, and a few others worlds as well. Although it boasts a huge cast that reads like a who’s who of rock, this is no music-driven "Woodstock" to be sure. Director George Hickenlooper’s ("The Man From Elysian Fields"; "Hearts of Darkness: a Filmmakers Apocalypse") documentary feature is about Rodney in particular and about celebrity in general, and the ways that its power can rob us of who we might otherwise be. Although there are a few bits of music here and there, this is really a film about one man’s sometimes cheerless brush with fame through the reflected glory of superstars, and fueled by his youthful fascination with American royalty, Jack and Jackie Kennedy.

The film began as a book project about Rodney, whose undisputed and significant contribution to the industry was, and still is, giving airplay on LA radio station KROC to unknowns that no one else would touch. These included Nirvana, Blondie, the Sex Pistols, Devo, Van Halen and the Ramones, to name a few. He promoted the bands, did print interviews, and booked them in his club, English Disco.

It’s fun to watch this parade of a past decade, probably more so for anyone who ever spent ten minutes on Sunset Strip. But the film’s bigger strength is Hickenlooper’s intelligent pacing and careful editing that reveals the tattered underbelly of what is perversely appealing about LA, Hollywood, and fame that is often based primarily on being outrageous. The credit that thanks the "queen of rock" Nancy Sinatra is pretty outrageous by itself. A vast collection of photos show Rodney with a galaxy of stars: in the English Disco; as spectator in some filmed rock shows; an extra on a variety show; or as Davy Jones double in "The Monkees." Most of the musicians and other stars are shown in photos with Rodney during the late 1960’s, early 1970’s heyday of The Strip. Some current interviews, most notably with Cher and David Bowie, speak about Rodney with genuine affection. One gets the sense that he is seen as a lovable but forgotten mascot.

Still sporting the bangs of his 60’s haircut, by his own admission Rodney wishes his life had been different. An intense sadness seems to mark his life now and Hickenlooper suggests that reflected glory can never measure up to the fulfillment of a life with more mundane but lasting objectives. Rodney’s enchantment with celebrity took a more obsessive form than most, but there is a cautionary message as we see the power of fame continue to grow unabated.