Henry Rollins: Behind You

IN AN abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Toronto, Henry Rollins is getting beaten up. A huge, Rasputin-like figure (monk's garb, frankly Messianic face-fungus) throws our musclebound hero across a room kitted out with medical equipment and hospital beds. A feisty female in leather flings a couple of nine-inch nails at the bearded weirdie, Henry leaps up and jumps on the intruder's back, and the entire ensemble ends up in a crumpled heap on the floor.