This kitsch, straight-to-video exploitation fluff comes off like a Shannon Tweed thriller. It purports to tell the story of Brian Jones (guitarist and multi-instrumentalist in the original Rolling Stones). It’s actually about his murder, recently divulged by the deathbed confession of a disgruntled builder (whom Jones used as a gofer/ houseboy), and touches on his bizarre relationship with Anita Pallenberg. Pallenberg is erroneously portrayed as too conventional for Jones’ swinging lifestyle, but is depicted as a corrupting influence at the outset (in a cool ’60s psychedelic montage of S&M, orgies, photo shoots and sugar cubes). The other Stones are cardboard cutouts. Mick Jagger is a pouty sidekick; Keith Richards, an emulating poseur. Sophisticated Charlie Watts is a shoulder-shrugging lout. Soapy Leo Gregory, who plays Jones, did not research the part. He comes off too well-adjusted, strong and nice, never cruel or vulnerable. Jones’ great contribution to the band was his impeccable musicianship. This is glossed over. Instead, the film touts his role as “founder,” spokesman and trendsetter. It’s true he was the original playboy, but horsefaced Bill Wyman was a close second. Read Wyman’s Stone Alone for the real story of Jones’ exploits and musical contribution.