Filmed in 2006 and released in 2008, Shine a Light is the first concert film directed by Martin Scorsese since The Last Waltz. In some ways, it represents a return to his roots, since he edited the Woodstock documentary in 1970, to say nothing of how rock music is a throughline in his work. The songs “Gimme Shelter” and “Memo from Turner” can be heard frequently in Scorsese films, so much so that those needle drops are almost like an inside joke. Suffice to say, Scorsese is a huge fan of Mick and the gang, so his concert serves an entirely different purpose than the elegiac Last Waltz. The film is an argument that the rock group – and the guy shooting them – have more verve and energy than the younger artists they inspired.
The Rolling Stones have no problem filling arenas around the country, so the first noteworthy thing about Shine a Light is the smaller performance space. Over two nights, they played at Manhattan’s Beacon Theatre, a venue with a maximum occupancy of just under 3000. It is also clear Scorsese and his production team slashed that number in order to make room for all the lights the film requires (more on that later).
To the chagrin of those involved, the pretense for this tinier venue is a concert to benefit The Clinton Foundation, which is another way saying the audience probably belongs to the wealth donor or think tank class (Bill Clinton also introduced the band, something Scorsese wisely cut from his film). Unlike The Last Waltz, which serves as a time capsule for rock gods, Shine a Light has a timeless quality. It earns the implied suggestions the group could do this forever. Aside from the quality of the songs, which do not really merit discussion, what buoys the concert is an undercurrent of tension. There is tension between Scorsese and the band: in classic bad boy fashion, Jagger deliberately fucks with Scorsese, revising the set list up until mere seconds before they go on stage. The implication is that Scorsese, along with cinematographer Robert Richardson, had to improvise how they would light the band, creating a loose, organic quality to the imagery that eschews what you see in Stop Making Sense, which is full of deliberate control. The lights add punctuation to the songs: they are nothing fancier beyond bright yellows, deployed frequently, that add grace notes to the songs themselves (one notable exception is the use of red for “Sympathy for the Devil”). Scorsese also breaks the plane between stage and audience, filming the group from all angles and introducing the crowd as an essential component of the band’s effect.
The other, more important sense of tension is between the musicians themselves. As the band plows through hits and deep cuts, it looks like they can barely hold it together. Sometimes Keith Richards or Ron Wood play the wrong chord, or Mick stumbles over a line. The rhythm section, of course, provides crucial support: the band would fall apart without the late Charlie Watts, and the bass/saxophone players add texture and melody that keeps the music advancing forward. But it would be wrong to say The Rolling Stones make “mistakes.” Instead, it is more like they share an intuition of playing together, bouncing notes and flourishes off one another into a something greater than the sum of their parts. Despite defining and working within the confines of rock ‘n’ roll – save the moment they bring bluesman Buddy Guy as a guest – there is the kind of drama and confidence that you might find among seasoned jazz players.
Just like Scorsese’s dynamism behind the camera, Shine a Light makes an argument for the endurance of The Rolling Stones. In between frequent outfit changes, Mick Jagger dances and struts around the stage in ways that should shame most younger rock/pop musicians. Richards uses his reputation as an ace in the hole, throwing in rebellious-looking gestures that seems off the cuff but are probably rehearsed (he spits into the spotlight a lot). The introduction of guest players only compounds how the core group are exceptional: sure, Buddy Guy is an equal to Mick, but the appearance Jack White and Christina Aguilera provide lulls in the concert.
Fifteen years later, Shine a Light marks a transition in Scorsese’s career. He knows he’s getting older, as evidenced by multiple flashbacks to interview footage of a young Jagger imagining the legacy of his band. But to the filmmaker and his subject, advanced age does not mean you have to also become a dinosaur. By reaching into the past, the film does not make The Rolling Stones and Scorsese relevant again. To the contrary, it argues relevance is something they’ve always had.
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