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The story you're about to hear, he says, is a first-hand account of the '60s: Historical accuracy is not guaranteed.
But if there are gaps in Doherty's memory, none of his sentimentality for the era has leaked out.
This problematic but somehow moving story, told in fluid and informal style with the help of a backing band, is at once a long yarn about a famous pop group in a fabled time, and a 21/2-hour confession from a man coming to terms with his personal past.
Mind you, it's tough to suspect Doherty and co-writer/director Paul Ledoux of historical revisionism.
On the surface, the Halifax-born singer, now 60, presents a well-worn version of the '60s that's already been poured over in countless books and documentaries. The piece is plagued by cliches, though it is impressive how much of the stuff actually involved The Mamas & The Papas. The group started separately as New York folkies, discovered LSD together as early as 1964, ventured into California's nascent psychedelic scene, and were instrumental in organizing the legendary Monterey International Pop Festival in 1967.
Still, Doherty spares no one, not even himself, as he recounts various screwings-over and, mainly, the grim love triangle between he and bandmates Michelle and John Phillips. The one figure who comes out looking pretty damn good is fourth band member Cass Elliott, a boundless but sensible personality who loved Doherty deeply. Dream A Little Dream is, ultimately, a love letter to her.
Before that conclusion is reached, there is plenty of trouble with the musical.
Awkward staging finds Doherty in constant danger of tripping over his microphone chord -- though mishaps are handled with admirable grace. The bare-bones visuals aroused suspicion that the slide projector was loaded backwards, or that the onstage screens, behind which the Dream Band performed, were going to come tumbling down.
Doherty is a born story-teller of the true, Celtic Maritime variety, and has a nice way with puns and cute, down-home imagery (throughout, he compares his good fortune to leaping from "flat rock to flat rock" across a river, but is wary of the "slippery stones" of the music industry). His voice, which along with Elliott's was the heart of the Mamas & Papas, now sounds like that of an old Irish crooner -- warm, smokey, a bit rough, but still lilting and pretty.
Singer Doris Mason, while not a soundalike, puts in a fine turn representing Elliott, and singer/fiddler Lisa MacIsaac is a suitably understated "Michelle" (though hearing Dedicated To The One I Love sung in a heavy Cape Breton brogue supplies some unintentional comedy).
Strangely, the band sounds leaden on hits such as California Dreamin' and Creeque Alley, and has more fun with the lesser-known tracks.
Fans of The Mamas & The Papas might dig Dream A Little Dream for its wealth of anecdotes and Doherty's narration.
But, with little insight into Elliott beyond her feelings for Doherty, half of this platonic love story remains unexplored.
Then again, maybe that's the point. (More on: Denny Doherty).