Ronald Reagan never got to launch a nuke, but he gets partial credit for launching a million little explosions in basements, clubs and social halls across the country.

	Henry Rollins, lead singer of Black Flag, wails away in a scene from the documentary "American Hardcore." Click photo for larger image. 'American Hardcore' Director: Paul Rachman. Starring: Black Flag, Bad Brains, Circle Jerks, et al. Opens Friday at the Harris Theater.

"Everyone was saying it was 'Morning in America.' Someone had to say, 'It's [bleepin' midnight], man.'"

So says Vic Bondi, of Articles of Faith, at the outset of "American Hardcore," a rough-and-tumble documentary on the hardcore punk movement in the early '80s. Filmmakers Paul Rachman and Steven Blush unearthed a treasure of ratty old footage and did exhaustive interviews to bring to light such heavy-hitters as Black Flag, the Circle Jerks, Bad Brains, Minor Threat, MDC and SS Decontrol.

Hardcore reared its ugly head at a time when the original punk scene was losing steam, unemployment was high, suburban youth were listless and bored and Reagan was promising a return to conservative values. The movement sprouted in Reagan's home state of California and in his next stop, D.C., with bands of disenfranchised teenagers, many from broken homes, taking the rage, speed and abandon of punk to the next level.

While British and New York punk had major-label backing and a modicum of media support, the hardcore ethic was pure DIY (do-it-yourself) as none of this stuff had even a remote chance of mass appeal.

"Normal people did not listen to hardcore -- and we liked it that way," Bondi says with venom. "Go listen to Fleetwood Mac. We're not going to abide that. We're about blowing all of that up."

With Black Flag and the Circle Jerks circling the country, bands started in every city, creating a network for a scene that had no use for promoters, tour buses, motel rooms -- or guitar lessons.

The personalities and messages varied from band to band: D.C.'s Minor Threat preached "straight edge," Austin's MDC (Millions of Dead Cops) had a queer vibe, D.C.'s Bad Brains a Rasta vibe, and the Boston bands like SS Decontrol were just plain nasty. (Pittsburgh's own Half Life doesn't get a nod here.)

Regardless of the nuances, the broad idea was don't-take-any-crap-from-anyone, and so the testosterone-powered shows frequently degenerated into fistfights, often involving the band. One scene in "American Hardcore" shows Black Flag's brainy/brawny hardcore icon Henry Rollins wailing away at a fan pressed against the stage.

Greg Hetson, of the Circle Jerks, recalls an early trip the band and its roughneck L.A. fans took up to San Francisco. The fans there thought they were going to pogo, but Hetson says, "the Circle Jerks started playing and all you saw were fists and the San Francisco people hitting the floor."

Bad Brains, one of the most formidable of the bands, gets a good chunk of the film, including an interview with Paul H.R. Hudson, who looks like he could be in the Wailers. They were so tight, Hetson says of Bad Brains, they were "the band everyone feared to play with."

Most of the veteran punks, now in their 30s and 40s, look like they're still living the life in some way, whether it's involved in labels or writing or keeping one foot in their bands. Several of them get their shots in at MTV bands now that try to act punk.

Zander Schloss of the Circle Jerks gets in the last word in a chorus of voices saying, slyly, punk is dead. "It was over ... a long time ago. It's over, OK? You can go home now. Your cage is clean."