The only problem with watching a documentary about 8-track-tape collectors is that it means listening to the obnoxious self-justifications of 8-track-tape collectors. The hobby attracts a special kind of wannabe eccentric: the sort who can also wax rhapsodic about their favorite lunchboxes, or the superiority of '70s breakfast cereals. They're an enthusiastic bunch, which is a refreshing alternative to the cooler-than-thou attitude of some hipsters, but there's still an undercurrent of "look at me, I'm different" to the whole endeavor. They collect 8-tracks because you don't.
That said, Russ Forster's documentary So Wrong They're Right is fairly entertaining, even though it never becomes the examination of too-rapid technology leaps it intends to be. The movie is at its best when it leaves aside broader claims, instead sticking with personal anecdotes. One collector talks about the anthologies and obscurities that are easier to find on 8-track than any other format. Another describes how listening to Lou Reed's mope-rock masterpiece Berlin on an endless 8-track loop is more emotionally draining than playing it on vinyl or CD. Still another insists that the beauty of 8-track is that it's such a fragile technology—the tapes break as often as they play. That last contention—the ephemeral as inherently beautiful—is most convincing, especially when the collectors drag out some of their funkier-looking tape players. They may be annoying to hear about, but they do look pretty awesome.