Scorsese Meets the Stones in Shine a Light

In town last week to promote their concert documentary, Shine a Light, the Rolling Stones found themselves in a very posh and decidedly un-rock ’n’ roll conference room in the Palace Hotel on Madison Avenue. Sitting before a crowd of adoring media, they seemed both amused and a little embarrassed by the spectacle, but they played along like champs.

When asked how the film’s presentation in IMAX format would be a different documentation of the Stones, Mick Jagger deadpanned: “It’d be very larger.” And when questions turned to why the band chose movie maverick Martin Scorsese to direct, the reply was no less up front. “We didn’t choose Marty. Marty chose us,” said Keith Richards before flashing a knowing smile at Scorsese, who sat smack dab in the middle of the band lineup, wiry as ever.

Scorsese’s frequent dips into the Rolling Stones catalogue illuminated sequences in Mean Streets, Goodfellas, Casino, and The Departed. He described the band’s music as “an endless source of inspiration” and a throwback to his upbringing in the neighborhood of Little Italy. “The Stones’ music—beautiful and profound, and brutal at times—dealt with aspects of a life that I was experiencing and trying to make sense of,” the filmmaker explained.

Fascinated with how such volatile personalities work together like a well-oiled machine, Scorsese sought to portray a Stones concert as he saw it—each song as a narrative, the overall sound a character. Filmed over two nights in New York’s Beacon Theatre during the fall of 2006, Shine a Light combines standard documentary material (archival footage, backstage interviews) with scenes from each night’s performance. The intimacy offered by the Beacon—a space Richards describes as “a great feeling room”—gives the impression the band isn’t performing for faceless nobodies, but rather special guests (after all, the Clintons are in attendance). The quick- cutting and super-zoom angles, all directorial trademarks, are in full-force in Shine a Light, and necessarily so—it’s tough to keep up with Mick & Co.

Indeed, much of the entertainment—in the film as well as in real life—comes from watching Scorsese, 5 foot 4 inches and impossibly verbose, go toe-to-toe with rock’s most celebrated will-o’-wisps. Procuring a set list from Jagger before the show is an arduous task, and so is finding the right lighting. Scorsese consults a technician about a dangerous halo-like effect he wants when the band performs “Sympathy for the Devil,” barking one firm requirement: “We can’t burn Mick Jagger!”

But Shine a Light is more than a night out with the Rolling Stones. In many ways, it’s a meditation on how rock ’n’ roll ages gracefully, veering off into new directions while never forgetting its roots. Buddy Guy, the guitar-wielding blues icon, hits the stage to perform “Champagne & Reefer,” and Richards and Ronnie Wood are beside themselves in awe. Then, the tables turn when the smitten Jack White guests on “Loving Cup,” his usual bravado turned down a few notches. And though it is old hat to see Jagger score with young women, Christina Aguilera doesn’t seem to mind—her duet with Sir Mick on “Live With Me” is cheeky if not a little clichéd.

Most lovesick of all is Scorsese and his team of world-class cinematographers, led by Bob Richardson (The Aviator), which manages to capture the little details of a very big band—the affectionate pats between onstage rivals Mick and Keith, the chuckles emitted by drummer Charlie Watts. It is in these moments that the Rolling Stones, London legends that they are, live up to their motto that “it’s only rock ’n’ roll”—but we like it.