Naming a retrospective American — especially a documentary about a legendary, long-deceased comedian — seems like a dicey proposition. Enter Bill Hicks: Legendary rabblerouser. Check. Sharp-tongued funnyman. Check. And sure, he’s a controversial gadfly, known for controlled onstage freakouts and getting muzzled by the Late Night Show with David Letterman.

But American — that’s a term usually reserved for the Hulk Hogan types. Still, that Hicks’s 2010 Matt Harlock and Paul Thomas-directed retrospective carries the term is no mistake.

“Well, he didn’t walk around on the Fourth of July with an Uncle Sam hat,” laughs Steve Hicks, Bill’s brother. “There’s a joke Bill used to make. He’d say, ‘I didn’t have much to do with it. My parents fucked there, then I became an American. The last time I looked, it was a big round world.’ He saw patriotism as a greater good, but not seeing it expressed on a daily basis by the people that purported to be the patriots.”

Indeed, while Bill was never placated by mini-flags, part of his appeal — and part of his longevity — came from his firm commitment to the First Amendment. (Though, as Steve is quick to add, “I don’t think he really disparaged the U.S. — there was a sense of pride and a sense of frustration at consumerism, the lack of ethics and so on.”)

That adversarial brand of patriotism, however, didn’t always resonate with U.S. audiences. While his stunning final standup performances — look no further than the explosive Rant in E Minor album, performed in Austin after Bill had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer — are considered his canon’s best, his posthumous accolades have only grown. In fact, as is portrayed in American, he frequently toured to half-empty apathetic audiences in America — he found much larger audiences at, say, Montreal’s Just For Laughs festival and on British television.

“When they filmed Relentless in Montreal and aired it in its entirety in England, people got to see the real Bill Hicks — it wasn’t just the five minutes he got on U.S. television.”

“I also think [foreign audiences] loved hearing someone being so honest about America — so passionate and compassionate about it, but willing to expose all of his warts. Bill was poking holes in the imperialism of the U.S. around the world, and people just ate that up.”

And, Steve says, Bill’s impact is growing — not because he was funny, but because there’s startling depth to his work. It might surprise some that American isn’t focused on comedy; rather, through animated vignettes, talking-head interviews and archived standup footage, the film talks about the man behind the leather jacket and ever-smouldering cigarette — the same one whose incisive critique of American culture came from a Baptist upbringing in Texas, a stint in Hollywood’s bright lights and time spent lost in New York’s endless bustle.

That Bill’s life was, in fact, so downright American is perhaps the reason why — whether targeting David Koresh or the Gulf War — his comedy still makes sense today. While such topics might seem outdated, the essence of his work is still relevant.

“The Iraq was — nine years later there was another Iraq war. President Bush — well, eight years later there was another President Bush in the White House,” says Steve. “He talked about the selling out of Jay Leno 18 years ago, and with Jay taking over from Conan O’Brien — that all came right back up to being current again. He had a way of seeing some deeper truths, and had a real art for being able to convey those ideas.”

He pauses. “From a higher-arching viewpoint, he talked about love, and compassion, and fairness, and consumerism. Those things are universal topics. They weren’t of an era. They’re of all eras.”