Shine a Light: Critic Reviews

What it captures is a band that has figured out the best way to endure -- by becoming eternal.

As the director of the documentary Shine a Light, Martin Scorsese is a besotted rock 'n' roll fan who wholeheartedly embraces its mythology.

The genius of Scorsese's film, which is being shown in IMAX in 93 theaters, is that it reveals the Stones' mortality while celebrating all that makes them more than mere mortals.

For the most part, Scorsese (as he did in The Last Waltz, his brilliant documentary about the Band) largely lets the Stones be the Stones.

As Jagger is the ringmaster in front of the cameras, Scorsese is the maestro behind them, assembling a crew under Robert Richardson that reads like a Who's Who of award-winning cinematographers.

Like the Stones, Marty's earned the right to coast, especially in his senior years.

Regardless of age, they can still rip this joint.

Some may argue that Shine a Light could have used more such flavoring. Stones' fans won't be among them.

There's more than a bit of satisfaction to be had in Shine a Light, which starts with a clever tussle of the dynamic wills of Jagger and Scorsese.

[Scorsese] comes at the Stones from every imaginable angle. He voodoos the footage into a fluid whole.

At times, the cutting shifts from the hasty to the impatient to the borderline epileptic, and, while never doubting Scorsese's ardor for the Stones, I got the distinct impression of a style in search of a subject.

Shine a Light combines his foreknowledge with the versatility of great cinematographers so that it essentially seems to have a camera in the right place at the right time for every element of the performance.

Shine a Light is akin to paying for a very good seat at a Stones concert, and while some of us couldn't do that for real, even if we saved up, Scorsese's fond film...is a stroll down memory lane, conducted by four men who know the way, and know how

Aside from threading in a few black-and-white clips of the band being interviewed in the mid-60s, Scorsese doesn't have much to say about the Stones, and their unfeeling professionalism onstage says quite enough already.

Despite Scorsese's efforts to pump up some drama -- the director, with his signature glasses and Groucho brows, gets huffy about not receiving a set list -- drama is sorely lacking. This is just a concert film.

Martin Scorsese meets the Rolling Stones in Shine a Light. The synergy is so brilliant, it's nearly blinding.

This is how great rock and roll was meant to be filmed: By great filmmakers.

Although the film is expertly made it offers almost nothing new for fans of the Stones, or of Scorsese.

Martin Scorsese's Shine a Light, featuring the Rolling Stones onstage with their talented friends, rattled my old bones to nirvana and beyond as I searched for superlatives adequate to describe the rapturous vibes let loose by the performers.

Takes full advantage of heavy camera coverage and top-notch sound to create an invigorating musical trip down memory lane, as well as to provoke gentle musings on the wages of aging and the passage of time.

The movie easily beats paying $250 to experience the Bones in person; you can see everything without having to stand up, and the sound at a multiplex is far better than any arena.

Scorsese captures the Stones at their ancient, un-ironic best, bluesy showmen who leave it all on the stage every night, never for a moment letting on that they're playing, for the 10,000th time, 40-year-old hits.

It's showbiz, after all. And the band still rocks like none other, true to their creed that if their adored blues masters can play into their dotage, then so can they.

What he has created, inadvertently, is an invaluable documentation of semi-fossilized Stones -- musicologists may like it, sociologists should love it and, some distant day, anthropologists will treasure it.

The filmmaking tries to generate excitement; it doesn't capture it.