The critic needn't be a psychologist to see why Kevin Spacey really loves Bobby Darin, who, doomed to an early death with a bad heart, jammed everything he could into his life: singing, acting, marrying Sandra Dee (Kate Bosworth), and even writing, directing, producing, and scoring a movie of his own. Spacey, the would-be song-and-dance man, regards Darin as a Renaissance man too, a prince who had it all and did it all, and he wants to be spoken of in the same breath. He's mythmaker and now myth-taker, borrowing someone else's story to reinvent his own. Problem is, there ain't much to Darin or his story -- at least, not as Spacey's chosen to tell it. By offering up the feel-good, MGM-styled musical version, a movie you can hum along to, his biopic serves only as a giant question mark; why bother if you're going to excise the interesting and naughty bits (an early version of the screenplay references his affection for orgies post-Sandra Dee) in order to glorify a footnote?