The Last Waltz: On-This-Day Thursday
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
Every Thursday, an older film released on this opening weekend years ago will be reviewed. They can be classics, or simply popular films that happened to be released to the world on the same date.
For April 26th, we are going to have a look at The Last Waltz.
The greatest concert film and/or music documentary is the multi hour epic Woodstock, which is one of cinema’s cleverest compilations of footage even to this day. It achieves so much in its duration, as it balances its backstage moments, actual concert footage, and festival activities with complete ease. One of the numerous editors was aspiring filmmaking Martin Scorsese, who had a couple of smaller titles under his belt at this time. Three years later came Mean Streets, and he was catapulted into the upper echelons of New Hollywood superstardom. Of course, Scorsese has always been a filmmaker of all kinds of works, and it was only a matter of time that he would return back to the concert film format to make an entry in the genre that was authentically his. Would there happen to be a perfect opportunity, perhaps?
Well, that’s exactly what happened. The Band was ready to ride off into the sunset with one final show. Having been the backing band for Bob Dylan for years (hence the name) and attached to almost all of the great folk rock musicians of the ‘60s and ‘70s, The Band was sure to end off with a band; they could bring all of their best friends, and perform to the huge fanbase they accumulated. So, there was this big farewell, an auteur who was still in the midst of his big breakthrough, and an audience eager to experience the legacy of The Band in the best way possible. Thus, The Last Waltz was born; even if you hated every note this group played, it is a documentary marriage between familiarity (seeing what The Band did best) and the unknown (getting to know each member in this final chance) that is nearly impossible to ignore.
The Band is captured perfectly, and so are their special guests.
While The Last Waltz doesn’t really try to forge The Band’s history in quite the narrative style that the group was used to writing lyrically, Scorsese’s direct approach at least feels like a nice chit chat backstage before the show, even though these discussions are strewn throughout the film. Of course there is the perspective of Robbie Robertson, who here is showcased as the “leader” of the group, despite the multi instrumental and numerous vocal capabilities of each member, and it’s one that The Band’s drummer Levon Helm detested. If you’re looking for that authenticity as a fan of the group, then you may be let down. However, I don’t think that necessarily makes for a better or worse film. What we do have is well constructed, even if it is a skewed version of The Band; it’s also hard to ignore that Robertson produced this documentary and clearly had a say in how it looked.
Besides, who has time to be bothered by that, when the magnificent performances and Scorsese’s perfect framing of them are this breathtaking? These include ideal camera placement, and the securing of as many onstage members as possible with the most dazzling angles. I won’t lie: I like The Band, but I’m not in love with them, so this review is not presented with any form of bias. Still, each number is gorgeous, and awaiting each and every guest that comes along is part of the appeal. You can take your pick, too, since the quality of every number means that there won’t be clear favourites across the board. Do you go with the Van Morrison, Muddy Waters, Neil Diamond, or Eric Clapton features? Do you play it safe and stick with the rare sighting of one mister Bob Dylan? I go with the arresting rendition of “Helpless” with Neil Young, featuring Joni Mitchell singing off stage (hiding before her big guest appearance later, but her presence is still heavily felt here). If anything, I find myself fighting back tears whenever I get to this part of The Last Waltz; it’s this indescribable side of live performances, where everything just clicks and nothing else matters, that the documentary captures.
The layout of the film presents us with a personal look at the various members of The Band, so the onstage magic soars even more.
Even though the backstage discussions don’t greatly change the film, they provide nice moments of downtime; to me, they feel like Scorsese’s way of using what he learned on Woodstock to create moments to breathe, and regulate the pacing of this concert. This is a music film meant for anyone to see, and not just fanatics; Scorsese has always been a filmmaker before he’s been anything else. These ebbs and flows make The Last Waltz a universal film, and thus a strong introduction to The Band for newcomers to their music; otherwise, fans have a jaw dropping celebration that really finalizes this legacy on such a triumphant note. Considering that there aren’t just as many concert films that place emphasis on filmmaking over the contents of the performances captured since (outside of Stop Making Sense, of course), The Last Waltz is one of the last works of its kind, so it is a goodbye to something more than just The Band. Either way, this titular waltz, between an iconic musical group and the art of filmmaking, is one that will never end (at least not in your heart).
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.