Drugs, jealousy, Nazi costumes: The harrowing story of Brian Jones, forgotten founder of The Rolling Stones

Reckless, objectionable, a genius musician ravaged by drugs and consumed by self-loathing, the Brian Jones brought back to our screens by Nick Broomfield is a deeply tragic figure. Jim Farber speaks to the acclaimed documentary maker about the Rolling Stone whose life was painted black

Sympathy for the devil: Jones (in colour) in 1964 with fellow Stones (from left) Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts (Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures)

Lately, The Rolling Stones have been everywhere. The 60th anniversary of the band’s formation has brought with it a crush of events over the past year, including a European tour, a studio album of fresh material (their first in 18 years), tons of commemorative merchandise and a round of fresh interviews.

Lost in all this looking back, however, is any significant mention of the man who started it all; the man who founded the band, who gave them their name, and who served as their first leader: Brian Jones. “Brian definitely should have gotten more recognition for the anniversary,” says Nick Broomfield, who has directed a new documentary called The Stones and Brian Jones. “No one could be more celebrated than Mick and Keith, and rightly so, but I don’t think they would have lost anything at this point by recognising Brian’s contribution.”

Broomfield’s film works overtime to make up for that. It presents Jones’s contribution as both crucial to the Stones’ character and corrosive to their dynamic. Together, that created a push-and-pull in his life that could barely be more dramatic. Initially the most popular member of the band, Jones wrestled with a depth of self-loathing that led to increasingly outlandish and dangerous behaviour escalating to his death at 27, mere weeks after he was thrown out of the band. Using a mix of fresh and vintage interviews, with everyone from Jones’s family to his many lovers and members of the Stones, the documentary presents a broad portrait that, perhaps by necessity, spends much of its time vacillating between the sad and the infuriating.