A Hard Day's Night. Don't Look Back. The Last Waltz. Stop Making Sense. These are just a few of the rock pinnacles Barenaked In America could never reach, which isn't to say that director Jason Priestley is not an auteur on par with Martin Scorsese or Jonathan Demme. But Barenaked Ladies, a genial Canadian novelty act that's sort of like a middlebrow They Might Be Giants with more chart success, won't be mentioned in the same breath as The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Band, or Talking Heads. With that in mind, the group's fan base will likely enjoy Priestley's brisk, 90-minute backstage view of its '98 arena tour. Despite occasional claims about its polished musicianship (yawn) or the serious undertones in its infectious pop songs, BNL is essentially an unpretentious, happy-go-lucky band with a healthy grip on its fluke stardom. The members have no illusions about their place in the rock lexicon and neither does Priestley, who asks them such penetrating questions as, "Who's your favorite Sesame Street character?" For the unconverted, Barenaked In America provides a brief history of the band's past and present, from its breakthrough performance of "Be My Yoko Ono" at a corner record store to its unexpected multi-platinum seller in America. Fronted by the songwriting team of Steven Page and Ed Robertson, BNL delights sold-out crowds in support of its Stunt album, filling out its set list with goofy, half-rapped improvisations. Between musical numbers, Priestley cuts in tour-bus shenanigans and amusing interviews with celebrity boosters such as Jon Stewart and Andy Richter (who laments that BNL has unseated Loverboy as Canada's premier rock act). Perhaps too often, the backstage footage disrupts the flow of the live performances; conversely, if you don't like the music, the performances aren't interrupted enough. As cheerfully slight and disposable as the band it's celebrating, Barenaked In America was clearly made by a fan, for fans. You know who you are.