( L - R ) Bunny Wailer, Elephant Man

THE REGGAE/dancehall documentary, Made in Jamaica, is currently playing in theatres in Toronto, Canada. Directed by French filmmaker Jerome Laperrousaz, the 120-minute project features acts such as Bunny Wailer, Third World, Bounty Killer and Elephant Man, among others.

Here are some of the reviews it has received in the Canadian press.

Tony Wong, The Toronto Star

Featuring 19 stars, Made In Jamaica is an ambitious undertaking, but ultimately overreaches. As Laperrousaz (who has been on this path before with the 1980 documentary Prisoners in the Street: Third World) glides from one legendary musician to the next, it becomes less an intended examination of Jamaican cultural consciousness and more of a lushly produced music video.

Still, the 'doc', which screened at the Cannes and Toronto film festivals, takes a worthy look at a music born though turmoil with a vision that still resonates globally.

Jason McBride, Globe and Mail

Performances are the film's focus, and Laperrousaz is content to sit back and let the musicians do their stuff. How much you enjoy Made in Jamaica will depend entirely on how much you enjoy reggae. No devotee, I was good for about 45 minutes. (Fiercer, faster dancehall is more my taste; as Elephant Man describes it, "Reggae is the culture, but dancehall is like rock 'n' roll".) Nonetheless, Laperrousaz has remarkable access, and this pitches the film somewhere between Wim Wenders' Buena Vista Social Club and Michel Gondry's Block Party.

But, unlike Gondry's film, Made in Jamaica lacks a Dave Chappelle to liven it up and guide you through the music. Curious gaps might mystify connoisseurs - none of the Marleys are interviewed, and there is no real discussion of the intersection of hip hop and Jamaican music (Elephant Man, for example, is on Diddy's record label) nor input from experts - sociologists, historians or critics.

Laperrousaz's own lack of analysis deprives the film of context and a needed point of view. His film is about flow, not flow charts, and if you can go with that, well, then everything will be all right.

Jim Slotek, Sun Media

The movie by Jerome Laperrousaz has a lot on its plate - including reggae and Rastafari influence on the history, culture and religious life of Jamaica. It's hindered in its mission by the fact that narration and "facts" are uncool these days in the documentary world. You're supposed to absorb these things through pure testimony and verite. But, for example, with or without subtitles, and though it's explained several times by locals, I still haven't a clue how Haile Selassie became Jah (it has something to do with Marcus Garvey, apparently).

What Made in Jamaica does manage to convey extremely well is how the One Love of Bob Marley has turned into the violent and angry lyrics of people like Bounty Killer (who, like some of his American gangsta rapper counterparts, maintains he's portraying the reality of gun violence, not condoning it).

Radheyan Simonpillai, Nowtoronto.com

Offering feeble profiles of various reggae and dancehall artists, the anaemic Made In Jamaica barely scratches the surface of a musical genre that's given the world cutting social expression and rousing club anthems.

At its best, the documentary has us jamming to the 'riddims' of Bounty Killer and Vybz Kartel while barely clothed ebony hotties lend visual bounce to the festivities. Sometimes, the best thing you can do with such imposing artistes is lock the camera in place and let them hold the show. At these moments, the film becomes a music video - and a bumping one at that.

The artistes speak to Jamaica's history, the music's ghetto foundations, Bob Marley's inspiration and daily life in Trench Town. But, the film is structureless and packs in too many musicians, who have very little to say beyond their music.

Misogyny is visible but barely discussed and nothing is said about homophobia in a genre that made 'ba...yman' and 'chi chi man' internationally recognised insults. Beenie Man is missing and elite female artistes, such as Lady Saw and Tanya Stephens, are reduced to mere footnotes.

It may be that reggae isn't made for documentary, or maybe documentary isn't ready to hold a lighter up to reggae. I prefer to think it's the latter.