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In 1976, one of the most influential music groups of all time got together for one final shindig.  Getting back to their roots, they booked San Francisco’s comparatively small Winterland Hall, packed it with a captive audience and invited a few of their closest friends along for the ride.  It just so happened that those friends included the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young. Never again would there be such a talented and comprehensive on stage line-up, charity concerts and dead celebrity tributes notwithstanding. 

We are the World wasn’t even this good. Martin Scorsese, one of the most influential film makers of all time, was there to capture it all on film.  With The Last Waltz, Scorsese dispensed with his usual dissection of the violence of the male psyche and concentrated on the emotive power of rock and roll instead.  The director chose a quasi-documentary format, reigning in his traditional flair for sweeping pans and jump-cuts. Instead, Scorsese chooses an intimate close-up style: the camera hones in on each of the different band members as they take turns to sing or perform a solo. 

The performance is captured in real time and the atmosphere is palpable.  A lot of dope has been smoked and a lot of firewater has been drunk.  To put it succinctly, The Last Waltz rocks.  Guest members are allowed to take center stage and let their own talents shine: Joni Mitchell wails incomprehensibly about a coyote; Muddy Waters whoops himself into a frenzy about making love to a woman.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, and to the rest of the audience, Neil Diamond turns up.  It is almost as if he has wandered into the wrong concert hall. 

Neil Young delivers a fantastic rendition of "Helpless," though as ever he looks like the wild man from the woods.  But it is the iconic Dylan who is most impressive, trading on his history of experience with Robbie Robertson and the rest of The Band.  When Dylan traded acoustic folk for electric rock in 1966, they were the backing group who supported him and got booed for their trouble though  Al from Home Improvement was the drummer during that period, useless fact fans. 

The Last Waltz is peppered with one to one conversations with each of the individual members of The Band.  These moments break up the flow of the concert, but provide a real insight into the workings of a group exhausted from a perpetual life on the road. Conducted in hushed tones, they are teeming with rock and roll anecdotes; Martin Scorsese is happy to let the boys talk without interrupting with inane questions.  It occasionally threatens to go all Spinal Tap – after all, this was the source of inspiration for Rob Reiner’s hilarious creation Marti DiBergi.  But their affection for the music and each other shines through and it is not as pretentious as say, U2’s Rattle And Hum. 

Yet, what really matters here is the music, and The Last Waltz has great tunes in spades.  The Band roll through all genres from bluegrass to honky-tonk.  Whether they are performing their own hits such as harmony-laden "The Weight" and "Ophelia," or helping out on a few covers, they display an enviable talent and great on stage bonhomie.  One of the film’s true goose bump moments is when Bob Dylan invites all the other guests to sing along on "I Shall Be Released."  History is made in the space of a few minutes. Martin Scorsese also does an impressive job, spurred on by his previous work on the Woodstock documentary.  His understanding of popular music was further displayed on the soundtracks for Goodfellas and Casino. 

The Last Waltz is the perfect companion piece to Cameron Crowe’s recent picture Almost Famous.  Though Crowe charters a different musical genre, both pictures are steeped in a love of the redemptive power of music and a deep admiration for the people making it.  Secondly, both pictures capture the human side of the people hiding behind the facade of rock and roll. I was fortunate enough to catch a really bad print of The Last Waltz.  It crackled and skipped like an old vinyl record, but somehow this only added to the film’s charm. 

For those who are interested in music history, or those who are just interested in music, The Last Waltz is a godsend. But nothing on God’s green and glorious earth can prepare you for the sight of Van Morrison in a beige velvet jumpsuit. 

Ross Thompson 3/22/2001