Little Richard, prototypical pop star, is the perfect subject, a tantalizingly manufactured personality blending full-bodied flamboyance with a touch of flim-flam. The singer is also an elusive figure, morphing from jelly-rolled jiver to lit-up Liberace and finally bible-bellowing believer. In fact, the L. R. of Klein's portrait is more than elusive-he disappears halfway through the film, leaving behind an echoing chorus of “Tutti Fruttis.” But Klein wasn't really after the man per se, the man who said “Elvis may have been King, but I am the Queen.” That queen is dead (figuratively), but lives on through a multitude of fans and impersonators, many of whom we see trying on “Lucille” and “Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.” Somewhere off camera, a once-great but recovered rocker has traded center stage for a pulpit, becoming a pop proselytizer who puts the con back in icon. Still, if the true word be spoken, it's “A wop-bop-a-loo-mop-alop-bam-boom.”