MAX’S Kansas City, the long-gone New York nightclub that once stood at 213 Park Avenue South, had two distinct lifetimes: 1966–1974, when, touched by the hand of Warhol, it became Manhattan’s hippest underground hangout; and 1975–1981, when it degenerated into one of its wildest, vying with CBGB for the title of the city’s premier punk establishment to shoot up and throw up in. The aura of its first incarnation fed the appeal of its second, and in the 41 years since it closed, everything has blurred into a single Max’s legend.
Peopled with faces who were there, if not always the ones you’d crave to hear from, director Danny Garcia’s documentary attempts
