Crumb director Terry Zwigoff’s first film is a true treat: a documentary about the obscure country-blues musician and idiosyncratic visual artist Howard “Louie Bluie” Armstrong, member of the last known black string band in America. As beguiling a raconteur as he is a performer, Louie makes for a wildly entertaining movie subject, and Zwigoff honors him with an unsentimental but endlessly affectionate tribute. Full of infectious music and comedy, Louie Bluie is a humane evocation of the kind of pop-cultural marginalia that Zwigoff would continue to excavate in the coming years.

It’s the Summer of 1969. The temperature hovers around 105 degrees on a humid weekend in Memphis, Tennessee. It’s only been a year since the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. But on this particular weekend, everyone in town, all races, creeds and colors have come out for the Fourth Annual Memphis Country Blues Festival. The lineup is the most ambitious in years, welcoming blues masters like Bukka White, Sleepy John Estes, Furry Lewis and the 106 year-old Nathan Beauregard, coupled with more notable headliners like Rufus Thomas & The Bar-Kays, John Fahey and rocker Johnny Winter. One attendee that year was Gene Rosenthal, who brought along a couple of cameras, a small crew and left with 40,000 feet of color film that was left untouched for nearly 50 years….until now. ‘Memphis 69’ is a time capsule. If you’re a blues enthusiast, watching this film feels like you’ve opened up a treasure chest and discovered that you’ve hit the motherload.