A rambling, low-tech, and somewhat unsatisfactory documentary about the influential photographer, whose characteristically deadpan studies of quotidian Americana have informed the work of film-makers as diverse as Gus Van Sant and David Lynch. The man who made this, Michael Almereyda, is himself a fairly respectable customer, with the Ethan Hawke-starring Hamlet to his name, but he's pretty much content to let his camera gawk unquestioningly at Eggleston as he tramps remorselessly around a dead-end Kentucky town (on Van Sant's commission), with only perfunctory attempts to evoke or understand the photographer's work.

The grubby videotape on Almereyda shoots only emphasises the gap between this film's visuals and what we are repeatedly informed are Eggleston's vivid colours. The man himself is famously laconic, which means that a little of this goes a long way, but some life is injected by the appearance of Eggleston's wife, Rosa, in the final few minutes, proudly showing off some of her husband's earliest snapshots, and orchestrating a drunken get-together in their sitting-room.