'Rock-afire Explosion': Best movie I've seen all year. Really.

Yesterday I teased you by saying I'd just watched what might be my favorite film of 2009.

Would you believe it's a documentary about an animatronic pizza-parlor band?

For those of us who grew up in the '80s, the Rock-afire Explosion might conjure  memories of birthday parties, arcade games and pizza. Rock-afire was the "house band" at Showbiz Pizza Place, a popular chain restaurant. It consisted of life-size robot animals that performed popular tunes and original compositions. It was totally bizarre, yes, but it was also downright mesmerizing -- especially if you were 7 years old.

Sadly, Rock-afire didn't last forever. When Showbiz crumbled in the early '90s, beloved band members like Mitzi Mozzarella, Beach Bear and Fatz Geronimo were either ripped apart or remodeled as less inspired Chuck E. Cheese characters.

But then, in the 21st century, something strange happened: As I've mentioned before, obsessive fans of the Rock-afire Explosion started surfacing. Some were buying and selling items on eBay. Others were posting fan videos on YouTube.

In The Rock-afire Explosion, director Brett Whitcomb chronicles the rise and fall of Rock-afire and, I'm telling you, it's utterly fascinating. We meet fans like Chris Thrash, a guy in small-town Alabama who purchased an entire Rock-afire band in mint condition and set it up at his house. (He's the dude responsible for viral videos like this one.) We also meet Aaron Fechter, the charismatic Rock-afire inventor who still hasn't shut down the deserted animatronics factory.

Some scenes in The Rock-afire Explosion are so unbelievable I started to wonder if the entire thing were scripted. Did Michael Jackson really tour the factory? Does Thrash really like to climb into a Billy Bob bear costume every once in awhile? Did Fechter really hook up with a young Rock-afire fan? Is it possible to survive on two liters of Mountain Dew per day? Nearly every scene proves that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. Adding to the movie's excellence is a wealth of archival footage and a tone that never mocks its subjects.

The film has been difficult to see -- it has only screened at a few festivals since late last year -- but it just released on DVD. While it will be particularly popular with those of us who remember Showbiz Pizza, it's a must-see for anyone who who appreciates the power of a childhood memory, eccentric characters and, well, robots.

The trailer: