Glenn O'Brien's film Downtown 81 feels like that holy grail of junk food, the green chip, that rare perfect accident that curiously leaves you unsure about consuming it while simultaneously serving as a reminder that you shouldn't be eating any junk food to begin with. There has been a glut of unnecessary documentaries coming out these days that survey rock's growth, (or perhaps its devolution) out of the late 60's into the post-punk of the late 70's and early 80's. Everyone that lived through that period, while in the cultural limelight, seems overly anxious to stake his or her claim as to who was in fact at the forefront of the movement. But they're all the same cookie cutter interviews that quickly become hard to stomach after a while. Downtown 81 is not a documentary, but a fiction-as-document, embodying its own period and place. The film follows the wanderings of an, at the time, up-and-coming Jean-Michel Basquiat, and it shows artists and music