Don't Stop Believin': Everyman's Journey

It feels selectively edited toward a predetermined point of view.

[Plods] from one performance to the next with unnecessary asides for veteran Journey members to talk about their own lives (trivia of interest to megafans and no one else).

As infectious as Pineda's enthusiasm is, "Don't Stop Believin' " too often relies on his inherent appeal as a film subject, rarely probing more deeply than the narrative he and his bandmates provide.

Ms. Diaz settles for a flabby, repetitive showcase for the songs and an attaboy for their newest singer.

Pineda's ebullience is infectious, and "Don't Stop Believin': Everyman's Journey" is a pleasant story of dreams coming true.

Diaz insists on selling Pineda's promo-friendly myth at the expense of the richer, more complicated story of a dreamer who learns to become the durable professional his bandmates expect.

A glorified home movie, complete with self-congratulary smugness from the band's original members.

Pineda's humility is a rare rockumentary commodity, but the film around him is riven with underarticulated tensions: any suspicion that the management might have employed third-world labour to enable the show to go on is simply shrugged off.

Rather than a faux psychological analysis, the film offers instead a general commentary on how class, race, and nationality-as well as gender, even more generally-shape Arnel's experience.

By the time the band arrives in Manila for Pineda's emotional homecoming, every note feels as if it's been earned.

Once this new Journey has become a success, "Don't Stop Believin'" doesn't have a whole lot more to say on the subject.

All mic-ed up, but also all mixed up, this indulgently apportioned doc is a glad-handing fan project all the way.