The Last Waltz (1978) Rewind

“...it was an adult portion. It was an adult dose. So it took a couple of trips to get into it. You just go in the first time and you get your ass kicked and you take off. As soon as it heals up, you come back and you try it again. Eventually, you fall right in love with it.”

So says the denim donned, match striking Levon Helm about New York mid way through The Last Waltz (1978) in his characteristic honey bourbon drawl. Ostensibly he’s talking about his and his bandmate’s experiences of the city as impressionable young men whose musical prowess was taking them to new places outside of their hometowns. Realistically though it’s hard not to think that director Martin Scorsese left this bit of bar based bloviation in because it sums up their relationships with each other, the fan’s relationship with their music and the audience’s attitudes to the film itself.

The tale of The Band is a fraught one and Scorsese could have taken the drama that’s inherent in their rise and fall story and teased out an overwrought yarn that drips with the kind of artificially injected import that that weighs down so many rock docs by making them seem like serious investigative political reportage. Instead he stands back, acting as merely a conduit and allows the musicians to frame the story themselves. This adds an endearingly charming veneer of authenticity to the film but is maybe permissible to a fault when it comes to the relentless self-mythologising that the musicians can revel in. Guitarist Robbie Roberston, the de facto mouthpiece, seems to particularly enjoy spinning tales when the camera settles on him, as it so frequently does.

Equal parts concert film and documentary The Last Waltz (1978) has become one of the legendary music reels. The director's Mean Streets (1973) had a music heavy palette and Robertson admired this approach, asking Scorsese to get involved with recording the final phases of The Band as a live act via a mutual acquaintance Jonathan Taplin, music and film industry bigwig. A mutual appreciation of the benefits of cocaine may also have been a motivating factor.

We’re mostly confined to the inside of the now demolished San Francisco Winterland Ballroom, magnificently draped in the style of a libretto stage set and ostentatiously bejeweled with large crystal chandeliers, with the group playing their distinctive brand of powerful blues and dixy flecked roots rock. The focus here is entirely on the songs and the musicianship, as it should be. The Band weren’t always predisposed to lengthy exposition in interviews so Scorsese chooses to show them in their natural habitat, the stage, where they display more personality, fire and vulnerability than a few hours sitting around rapid firing questions ever could.

A starry cast of guests join the core five on stage throughout, flitting in and out, popping up on vocals, keys, guitar and drums. Clapton, Young, Diamond, Van Morrison and Dylan all spin their magic. If that sounds like a depressingly white male cast that’s because it is a little. Despite the fruits of the collaborations being spectacular there is a uniformity in the role call that reflects the state of a music industry very much still in the grip of a 70s flared trouser, greasy haired masculinity. Joni Mitchell is the only female to appear on stage but several tracks included here were recorded on a soundstage and feature contributions from Emmylou Harris and Mavis Staples giving one the feeling they knowingly redressed the balance retrospectively.

Despite this it is undeniable that this who’s who captures a moment in time expertly. The vibrant technicolour 60s had long ago faded to be replaced by the dark palette of black, chocolate, cream and burnt orange of 70s dress sensibilities. Eternal optimism had vapourized and been undercut by a drug addled self satisfaction and idolisation of virtuosity. There’s a stuffy air of arrogant decadence about the whole escapade but the powerful alchemy of the music elevates this to classic status. There's also a twinge of melancholy attributed to the project now we know that the five men never played together as The Band again. Years of hard toil on the road and creative exhaustion, as well as Robertson’s desire to strike out on his own, meaning things were less amicable between them all in later years.

A somewhat underappreciated outfit in the public consciousness The Band deserve plaudits and this visceral rock and roll thrill ride is a great document of their blow out. It’s a lot to take, an adult dose but after it’s swept you up and thrown you around you’ll come back and fall right in love with it.