I'm no Bob Marley expert, but I am familiar with a lot of his work, both on purpose—those early sides with Lee "Scratch" Perry and the first couple of Wailers albums on Island Records are pretty great—and just by being a white person who went to college in America. The re-appropriation of Marley's political rhetoric as good-time party jams by the backward-hatted frat-masses is the subject of its own lengthy examination, but you won't find it in Marley, which is reverential and austere. Despite a two-and-a-half-hour runtime, here Marley remains an enigma, a silk-screened face on a stinky T-shirt. by Ned Lannamann