Brett Morgan, director of THE KID STAYS IN THE PICTURE, delivers this almost superb chronicle of the rise of The Rolling Stones. Interview sound-bites from unseen Jagger, Richards, Watts, Wood, Taylor and Wyman pass comment over a backdrop of newsreel, home movie and concert footage which continuously and unbrokenly spools across the decades.
If you lived through most of it, it's a moderately emotional and involving experience, full of nostalgia and wistful insights. There is little bite or revelation going on, but the entertainment value is high – especially for fans. Casual onlookers might not be converted easily, but the scope of this at times faintly nightmarish modern "fairytale" of fame and success is likely to have at least some impact.
Richard's autobiography LIFE and Stephen Davis's masterful band bio OLD GODS ALMOST DEAD have a certain meat protein on their bones and an incisive analysis in their bloodstream that CROSSFIRE HURRICANE fails to come close to replicating on screen. It nearly nails it with depictions of the bands early yob behaviour and riot incitement plus a truly chilling depiction of the Altamont concert which manages to successfully generate a tangible sense of the fear and danger permeating that particular event. The ramshackle death and disintegration of the peace and love movement of the sixties is directly and probably quite correctly connected to the Altamont disaster.
There is much to see of the sixties and seventies, but not really enough added depth of inquiry to resonate passionately with the imagery and sound. The story is told, but told deadpan and without much genuine emotional punch or guts. The grit and gore, the down and dirty stuff never materialises. It's all rather civilised. Then it gets to the early eighties, jump-cuts to the Beacon Theatre concerts in 2006 (Scorsese's SHINE A LIGHT) then abruptly ends. What?
I love the Stones and always will. Anyone with an interest in popular music who can't appreciate their immeasurable contribution and cultural influence in creative terms alone might as well be living in a sterile vacuum on some other planet. Where rock and roll is concerned, these are the real deal, they ARE the old gods, and almost dead or not, they still shine bright. If hearing Satisfaction, Jumping Jack Flash, Sympathy For The Devil, Gimme Shelter, Miss You, Sweet Virginia, don't move you in some way, then you just ain't got a taste for the stuff that don't taste of anything but sucrose, Tupperware and Styrofoam. They might have become a corporate cash cow touring machine, but when it came to delivering, they delivered.
CROSSFIRE HURRICANE delivers also, but to a limited extent. It provides some truly great visuals and some truly great sounds. But the definitive Stones movie is out there somewhere still waiting to be made. This ain't it, but it will do to pass the time with until the glorious day arrives.
If you lived through most of it, it's a moderately emotional and involving experience, full of nostalgia and wistful insights. There is little bite or revelation going on, but the entertainment value is high – especially for fans. Casual onlookers might not be converted easily, but the scope of this at times faintly nightmarish modern "fairytale" of fame and success is likely to have at least some impact.
Richard's autobiography LIFE and Stephen Davis's masterful band bio OLD GODS ALMOST DEAD have a certain meat protein on their bones and an incisive analysis in their bloodstream that CROSSFIRE HURRICANE fails to come close to replicating on screen. It nearly nails it with depictions of the bands early yob behaviour and riot incitement plus a truly chilling depiction of the Altamont concert which manages to successfully generate a tangible sense of the fear and danger permeating that particular event. The ramshackle death and disintegration of the peace and love movement of the sixties is directly and probably quite correctly connected to the Altamont disaster.
There is much to see of the sixties and seventies, but not really enough added depth of inquiry to resonate passionately with the imagery and sound. The story is told, but told deadpan and without much genuine emotional punch or guts. The grit and gore, the down and dirty stuff never materialises. It's all rather civilised. Then it gets to the early eighties, jump-cuts to the Beacon Theatre concerts in 2006 (Scorsese's SHINE A LIGHT) then abruptly ends. What?
I love the Stones and always will. Anyone with an interest in popular music who can't appreciate their immeasurable contribution and cultural influence in creative terms alone might as well be living in a sterile vacuum on some other planet. Where rock and roll is concerned, these are the real deal, they ARE the old gods, and almost dead or not, they still shine bright. If hearing Satisfaction, Jumping Jack Flash, Sympathy For The Devil, Gimme Shelter, Miss You, Sweet Virginia, don't move you in some way, then you just ain't got a taste for the stuff that don't taste of anything but sucrose, Tupperware and Styrofoam. They might have become a corporate cash cow touring machine, but when it came to delivering, they delivered.
CROSSFIRE HURRICANE delivers also, but to a limited extent. It provides some truly great visuals and some truly great sounds. But the definitive Stones movie is out there somewhere still waiting to be made. This ain't it, but it will do to pass the time with until the glorious day arrives.