The Last Waltz (1978)
Directed by Martin Scorsese
United Artists, 117 minutes, Not-rated.
★★★★★
There is a moment
in The Last Waltz that is chiseled in my memory. Rick
Danko stands at the microphone and sings the lead to “Stage Fright.” He is
filmed from behind with a cone of frontal light highlighting the contours of
his hair as if he were John the Baptist being anointed by the Holy Spirit.
Hyperbole? Perhaps,
but who had ever seen a rock concert filmed like this before? Martin
Scorsese wasn’t exactly an unknown in 1975–he had, after all, directed Mean
Streets (1973)–but he was still a hungry up and coming director who had not
yet directed Raging Bull, The Last Temptation of Christ, Goodfellahs, The
Age of Innocence, or The Wolf of Wall Street; Taxi Driver was
still in production. Scorsese’s mastery on The Last Waltz was such the
National Film Registry found it of enduring cultural and historical
significance. It’s why a rockumentary is held by the Library of Congress.
Many observers call
The Last Waltz the greatest concert film of all time. That’s subjective,
but in my mind it’s a toss-up between it and Jonathan Demme’s Stop Making
Sense (1984), the latter of which owes a debt to Scorsese. For those who
don’t know, The Last Waltz documents the final concert of the
Canadian-American rock ensemble known as The Band: Robbie Robertson (guitar,
piano, vocals), Rick Danko (bass, fiddle, vocals), Levon Helm (percussion,
mandolin, vocals), Richie Manuel (keys, dobro), and Garth Hudson (keys,
saxophone). After 17 years on the road, The Band decided to call it quits and
held a musical going away party on November 25, 1975 at promoter Bill Graham’s
Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco.
It had been a
glorious run for a group of guys initially called The Hawks because they backed
rockabilly star Ronnie Hawkins. In 1965, the group became the guys in the
background for an even more famous figure: Bob Dylan. Dylan simply referred to
them as “the band,” and the name stuck. As The Band, they racked up a number of
hits in their own right, among them: “Ophelia,” “Rag Mama Rag,” “The Night They
Drive Old Dixie Down,” “The Weight” and “Up on Cripple Creek.” I think Levon
Helms might have been the first drummer I ever saw who sang lead vocals. (Or
maybe it was Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees.)
Recently I had an
opportunity to see a restored print of The Last Waltz and it’s even
better than I remembered it. Who could wish for a better retirement bash than
one featuring guests such as Paul Butterfield, Eric Clapton, Doctor John, Neil
Diamond, Emmylou Harris, Ronnie Hawkins, Van Morrison, Mavis Staples, Ringo
Starr, Muddy Waters, and Ronny Wood? There was also a parade of poets, not the
least of which was Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Oh yeah, Dylan showed up as well and
it might be the only time in his career in which he laughed, thanked the
audience, and was in a good mood. This film could be subtitled “Dylan Smiles.”
The opening credits
implore, “This film should be played loud.” Damn right! Everyone who sees it
has a favorite moment. I have several. Robertson was on fire during the evening
and reminds us that he is an underrated guitarist. If you doubt that, watch his
duet with Eric Clapton on “Further on Up the Road.” It’s also great fun to see
Muddy Waters digging deep on “Mannish Boy” and Dylan singing a tight version of
“Forever Young.” But the moment that brings me to my knees is Neil Young
getting off to a false start (feedback issues) before hunkering over his
harmonica and leading everyone into a gorgeous version of “Helpless.” From back
stage comes a soaring harmony of crystalline purity: Joni Mitchell. The song
builds to a climax with Danko, Robertson, and Young crowding around the mic and
Mitchell texturing from the wings. It is, simply, the best version of this
beloved Neil Young song I’ve ever heard. I was literally in tears. Maybe you
will have a different favorite moment, but whatever it is, pay attention to how
Scorsese moved the cameras, interspliced interviews and music, and filmed light
and shadow.
This film can be
viewed on YouTube, but my advice is: Don’t. Do. It. Hold out for a big screen
version of it in a theater with sound that can do it justice. And, yes, it should
be played loud. I’d add, “This film should be viewed BIG.” There have been
criticisms of The Last Waltz. Helm, for instance, claimed Robertson
hijacked it and put himself front and center. (Hey, he produced it!) No matter
what anyone says, though, Marty Scorsese redefined how we think of a rock doc.
MTV debuted three years after The Last Waltz was first in theaters and
it is yet to marry music and art with Scorsese’s aplomb.
Rob Weir
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