There are two kinds of movies that can support a feature-length documentary about their making: masterpieces and disasters. Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis is, somehow, both. Financed with $120 million out of Coppola’s own pocket, it might be the most extravagant vanity project ever made, the realization of a 30-year dream that no responsible entity would ever have said yes to. And yet, as unhinged and occasionally just-plain-bad as it can sometimes be, it’s also glorious in its obstinance, its refusal to conform to contemporary notions of what a movie has to be. It’s categorically impossible for a multimillionaire octogenarian with multiple Oscars on his mantel to make outsider art, and yet: damned if that’s not what Megalopolis is.

Megadoc , Mike Figgis’ on-set account of th

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