IS "THE Last Waltz" the greatest rock movie of all time? It makes its case persuasively in a restoration overseen by director Martin Scorsese and producer Robbie Robertson that's been released to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the concert it made famous. It was Robertson's group, the Band, that delivered its swan songs at San Francisco's Winterland Theater on Thanksgiving night, 1976. That performance was documented by Scorsese, who was coming off "Taxi Driver" and finishing "New York, New York" when Robertson drafted him just six weeks before the event.
Legendary promoter Bill Graham called it "rock and roll's Last Supper." But there were no disciples in attendance, only peers like Eric Clapton, Neil Young and Joni Mitchell, idols like Muddy Waters and former bosses Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan. And centrally, ubiquitously and astoundingly, there was the Band, calling it quits after 16 years. Their final hours on a public stage – on the site of their 1968 debut as the Band – became the definitive celebration of their American roots-defined repertoire – though all but drummer Levon Helm were Canadian.
Musicians Richard Manuel, Robbie Robertson, Rick Danko, Levon Helm, Garth Hudson perform in "The Last Waltz."
(Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer)
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There had been other great music films, from D.A. Pennebaker's "Don't Look Back" and "Monterey Pop" to Michael Wadleigh's "Woodstock," for which Scorsese had been cameraman and principal editor. But those were made by documentary filmmakers. "The Last Waltz," released in 1978 and the first concert movie shot in 35mm, was made by an auteur dramatist working with a 300-page script and storyboards. The stage set was designed by Boris Leven, who had worked on "The Sound of Music" and "West Side Story" films; the backdrop was borrowed from the San Francisco Opera's production of "La Traviata," the prop chandeliers from MGM's "Gone With the Wind" archives. Some 160,000 feet of film were shot by seven cameras by sterling cinematographers like Laszlo Kovacs, John Toll and Vilmos Zsigmond. The editing took two years, the sound mix four months.
The results were spectacular.
Where "Woodstock" was as much about the audience as the musicians, "The Last Waltz" barely acknowledges the crowd. It's all about the music.
It's also about Robertson, who dominates screen time and comes across as the Band's director, the prerogative of a producer sharing a home with Scorsese as the film was being edited. There's no denying Robertson's centrality – those are his songs and his sterling guitar leads – but the Band was also blessed with three great vocalists – bassist Rick Danko, keyboard player Richard Manuel and Helm, who would later chastise Robertson for his Hollywood haircut and his conceit of strained harmony vocals – into a microphone that wasn't even turned on. Danko, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Scorsese favorite Robert DeNiro, shines on the wistful "Makes No Difference" and edgy "Stage Fright," while Manuel's rendering of "The Shape I'm In" is retrospectively haunting (he commited suicide 10 years later). Helm is rock solid throughout, particularly on the classic "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."
Among the highlights: Hawkins and the Band reuniting on their 1963 hit cover of Bo Diddley's "Who Do You Love"; Muddy Waters's rugged "Mannish Boy"; Van Morrison's spirited "Caravan," complete with uncharacteristic Rockette kicks; Neil Young's "Helpless," with Joni Mitchell's flighty ornamentation emanating from behind a curtain; Mitchell's own poetic "Coyote"; and a Clapton/Robertson guitar workout on "Further on Up the Road."
Dylan and the Band had hunkered down in a Saugerties, N.Y. basement, revolutionized rock and toured the world a decade before. They run through "Forever Young" and bestow a Cream-like riff to the Rev. Gary Davis's "Baby, Let Me Follow You Down." And their common classic, "I Shall Be Released," serves as a fitting, though somewhat shambolic, ensemble finale.
After the concert, Scorsese and Robertson decided to provide some basic history and context through interviews with Band members. For the most part, they're helpful and mercifully brief; still, it's not hard to sense how Scorsese's zealous questions and the subsequent answers, both pretentious and zany, were a direct inspiration for director Marti DiBergi in "Spinal Tap."
Like the Beatles' farewell film "Let It Be," "The Last Waltz" gave witness to a disintegrating band's last poetic gesture. Robertson was the chief architect of the breakup, but he served as the Band's chief archivist, as well. The Band still sounds powerful, vibrant, imaginative and adventurous almost three decades on.
THE LAST WALTZ (PG, 117 minutes) – Contains some adult language. At the Cineplex Odeon Janus.
