Now Playing: Let the Whites of West Virginia Add Some Depravity to Your Holiday

Happy Cinco de Mayo! I have kind of a weird present for you, but it's the thought that counts: The nutso, controversial Tribeca alumnus The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia is now in one NYC theater and available everywhere on demand via Tribeca Film. Let Julien Nitzberg's unflinching documentary about the most fume-huffin', pill-snortin', mountain-dancin', face-shootin' family in Boone County augment your holiday mood like never before. Which is to say: You might never party or maybe even drink again. Read on and relive the magic from Tribeca '09, featuring director Nitzberg, producer Johnny Knoxville and those outrageous Whites themselves.

[An extended version of this commentary previously ran April 27, 2009, on Movieline.]

The night before Tribeca's world premiere of The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, a festivalgoing friend tipped me off to the controversial film with all the magic words I needed: something or other about an "exploitative, disgusting piece of sh*t" documentary executive produced by Johnny Knoxville. Sold! Less than 24 hours later I'd had a scorching look for myself, with Knoxville and director Julien Nitzberg on hand to help put the debauched hillbilly spectacle in perspective. Or at least as much perspective as one can attain on America's most unapologetically dysfunctional family.

On second thought, maybe "dysfunctional" isn't appropriate. The vagaries of contemporary celebrity culture -- say, the canned drama of Kardashians, Hiltons and Osbournes alike -- require a more specific modifier for the gnarled White family tree. "Psychotic" might apply; Nitzberg's eight death threats during a one-year shoot has to be some kind of record. "Self-destructive" is a strong contender as well; after all, no 85-year-old's birthday party is complete without a marathon pot-and-coke binge. But ultimately, the chronicle of Bertie Mae, Jesco, Mamie, Sue Bob, Kirk, Mousey and the rest of their blitzed backwoods clan is nothing more (or less) than numbing.

"Overall I think they see themselves as outlaws, and they don't hide that," Nitzberg explained after the screening. "So far they seem pretty pleased. The cameras were rolling -- they knew that, and they don't give a sh*t. Sometimes they're kind of proud of that."

Whites arrives two decades after Nitzberg's introduction to Jesco White, son of mountain-dance legend D. Ray White and eventual subject of the cult-classic PBS doc Dancing Outlaw. With the partial aid of an MTV Studios deal secured by Knoxville and evil Jackass genius Jeff Tremaine, Nitzberg journeyed back to Boone County to undertake a new family portrait. And bless their hearts, the Whites wouldn't sit still for any of it. Mamie White introduces herself first, peppering her biographical crash course with the shooting incidents that claimed the lives of D. Ray and two of her siblings, then almost gleefully promising that the trouble won't likely end there. Local officials fill in some other blanks; the county sheriff notes the Whites' "fuss, fight and party" mandate with disgusted resignation. Soon Mamie's famous brother Jesco -- the only heir to their father's dancing legacy -- guides Nitzberg on a walking tour of stores and churches he used to rob as a young man.

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