When I first heard that the U2 documentary From the Sky Down was going to be the opening film at TIFF, I was a bit disappointed. Full disclosure: I can't stand the Irish band — I could think of an infinite list of things I would rather do than listen to The Joshua Tree.

But I have decided to give director Davis Guggenheim the benefit of the doubt. Although I shudder at the thought of spending two hours with Bono's ego, there is a chance audiences may in fact learn something interesting about the band by trolling through their deep, dark secrets — the backbone of any good music documentary.

Below are five music documentaries that go beyond mere hagiography, delving fearlessly into their subject matter to convey something meaningful about fame, collaboration and the artistic process.

This is by no means a comprehensive list, just a collection of memorable films. I have inevitably left some good ones out. I have also declined to include films based on specific concerts (like Gimme Shelter or The Last Waltz).

Let It Be (1970)

If you only have the patience to sit through one film about the Beatles, it should be this gem. It has something for everyone — if you love the band, the rooftop performance at the film's climax is reason enough. And if you absolutely can't stand these Liverpudlians, just mute the musical bits, sit back and watch them come apart.

Just as the Fab Four were collapsing following the arduous recording sessions for The White Album, the always-optimistic Paul McCartney had an idea: hire a film crew to document the band recording a new back-to-basics album, which would eventually culminate in a massive live concert. It didn't quite work out that way for director Michael Lindsay Hogg. The sessions quickly degraded: Paul and George Harrison were bickering like school children, John Lennon was clearly preoccupied with Yoko Ono and his burgeoning heroin habit and Ringo spent a lot of time looking sad and dejected. By the time the film was released in 1970, the band had split up and wanted nothing to do with this film or the accompanying album.

What we learned: By this point, Paul and George were not getting along at all. It's no surprise, really, since George had always played second fiddle to the powerful Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership, and Paul had made little to no effort to entertain the guitarist's ideas. It's possible, as Paul has stated in recent years, that they patched things up and remained close but I've always had my doubts — even in The Beatles Anthology series, their exchanges are tinged with dislike.

Don’t Look Back (1966)

D.A. Pennebaker's film about Bob Dylan's 1965 UK tour has always struck an uncomfortable chord with me, and that's probably what makes it so enjoyable. The film attempts to demystify the folk singer, who was at the height of his success at the time. Despite the outstanding performance footage — including an impromptu performance of It's All Over Now, Baby Blue in his hotel suite — Dylan comes across as a spoiled brat, a performer who truly believes his own hype. His treatment of then-girlfriend Joan Baez is inexcusable, and the film inadvertently documents their break-up after he declines to invite her onstage to sing with him in front of a British audience.

We now know that Dylan's grueling schedule at the time drove him to a nasty speed habit, which probably accounts for some of his poor behaviour in the film. Less than a year after filming Don’t Look Back, Dylan crashed his motorcycle, which put him out of music for an extended period of time. Upon his return, he had clearly mellowed out and was more reclusive and shy.

What we learned: Bob Dylan doesn't like journalists. He lambastes Horace Freeland Judson, the London arts reporter with Time, and then aggressively questions a young British reporter backstage at one of his concerts. In the first instance, Dylan comes across as somewhat astute if a bit unsure, but in the latter he is clearly just playing to a gathered crowd of sycophants.

Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (2006)

Some have said that Scott Walker is a musician's musician, an eccentric's eccentric. That sentiment really comes through in this Stephen Kijak film, which features a who’s who of off-kilter musicians — David Bowie, Jarvis Cocker, Brian Eno, Alison Goldfrapp and Damon Albarn all stop by to give praise to Walker.

For those who don’t know his work, Walker began as a teen heartthrob in the Walker Brothers, but his work since has defined accessible avant-garde pop. The film focuses on the recording of The Drift, Walker's most recent album, thus avoiding the trap of a boring linear narrative. The recording sessions are unconventional — the scenes run the gamut from engineers building a giant wooden crate to record the sounds of a hammer to Walker pounding a slab of meat hanging from the studio ceiling. Walker is astonishingly candid in discussions about his career and the viewer gets the sense that no stone is left unturned. The best moments, though, come when the aforementioned musicians are captured listening to Walker's first four solo albums. Their reactions are priceless, as they admit to having forgotten how good the songs really are.

What we learned: Adoration for the music of Scott Walker transcends fame and fortune, and when you see David Bowie sitting awestruck while listening to a Walker record, you'll understand what I mean.

Metallica: Some Kind of Monster (2004)

(Warning: video clip contains coarse language.)

Following the departure of long-time bassist Jason Newsted, Metallica set about trying to find the spark that made them such a force in the 1980s and '90s. Made by Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky (Paradise Lost), the resulting documentary shows the band bringing in therapist Phil Towle to work through their problems, working on their first new album in seven years and finding a new bass player, all the while bickering along the way. The presence of a therapist really puts things over the top.

Midway through filming, though, lead singer James Hetfield takes a leave of absence to attend to his alcohol problem. Without the therapist, this is where you get to see the band actually work through their issues, many of which seem to stem from the power struggle between Hetfield and drummer Lars Ulrich, with lead guitarist Kirk Hammet left to figure out his place in everything. Hetfield's return is particularly interesting, as is their subsequent sacking of Phil Towle.

What we learned: James Hetfield is an angry, tortured individual. Kirk Hammett is very protective of his guitar solos. And Lars Ulrich really likes art. His immense collection of paintings, displayed in the film as he lounges on a velvet couch, do not strike much of a heavy metal chord, gaudy as they may be.

The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years (1988)

(Warning: video clip contains coarse language.)

In this sequel to the 1981 film chronicling the Los Angeles punk scene, director Penelope Spheeris turns her sights on the city's heavy metal scene from 1986 to 1988 — the height of hair metal. Albeit lighter in tone than her previous film, this doc plays like an advertisement for musical excess. Spheeris chooses her subjects wisely, speaking with members of Megadeth, Poison, W.A.S.P., Aerosmith and Kiss.

It's hard to pick out the best scenes in this film. Among the contenders: Ozzy Osbourne, permed blond hair and all, discussing the metal life while cooking breakfast; Aerosmith front man Steven Tyler musing about where his millions of dollars have gone, saying he “must have snorted up all of Peru”; and W.A.S.P. guitarist Chris Holmes stumbling drunk through an interview at his swimming pool, with his mom nearby, only to pour a bottle of vodka over his head (later revealed to be water).

What we learned: The interview with Paul Stanley of Kiss is conducted on a bed surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad women, and it becomes apparent that Stanley has had more venereal diseases than are classified in a medical dictionary.