Spending back-to-back nights with perhaps the two pre-eminent Boomer bands from the 1970s, whose music I scorned in my youth but grew to appreciate a bit as an adult.
BECOMING LED ZEPPELIN (B+) - The first third of this life-spanning profile of the foundational heavy-metal quartet of the classic-rock era is quite joyful. The three survivors sit for interviews and share their memories of childhood, accompanied by archival photos, concert clips from influences, and newsreel-style footage, all of which puts the postwar era into perspective. We also are treated to a rare, unreleased audio interview with drummer John Bonham, whose 1980 death ended the band's decade-long run.
Music archivist Bernard MacMahon recounts the early training of bassist John Paul Jones (who made a name in the '60s as a pop arranger for Shirley Bassey, Lulu and others), guitarist Jimmy Page (who took over the Yardbirds, which became the basis for Led Zeppelin), and vocalist Robert Plant, who basically ripped off R&B artists to establish his footing (nonetheless dodging a career as a chartered accountant). It all makes for an engaging origin story of these formidable talents who defied predictions and knocked the rock scene for a loop with their first two iconic albums in 1969. There is no denying their artistry and commitment, no matter what you might think of the songs that are now hoary chestnuts still big-footing FM radio.
The main problem with "Becoming Led Zeppelin" is that ... they eventually become ... Led Zeppelin. Within a year they were indulging in vintage heavy-metal excess. It didn't take long for Page to break out the violin bow to scratch across his guitar strings during interminable solos. All the positive forces that brought them together quickly transform them into egomaniacal rock gods. The familiar hooks still have heft and sway; but they are also emblematic short-hand for some of the worst hard-rock noodling of the 1970s.
Props to MacMahon for allowing the songs here to breathe. He faithfully devotes time to full versions of multiple touchstone songs that poured out of Page, Plant and Jones on "Led Zeppelin" and "Led Zeppelin II," in both studio takes and live performances. (And the audio quality is stellar throughout.) The filmmaker narrows his focus to that first year -- including mainstays like "Whole Lotta Love" and "Dazed and Confused" -- mainly between the breakthrough January 1969 performance at the Fillmore in San Francisco and their conquering of London at the Royal Albert Hall one year later. (As the credits roll, you can sense fans already starting to clamor for a Part 2 that would romp through the '70s.)
The first half of the film definitely has broader mass appeal; I especially enjoyed Page's visit to the boathouse where the band first rehearsed. That contrasts with the second half, which starts to grind down and morph from '60s optimism into '70s sloppiness and grim hedonism. I'm not the target audience; Led Zeppelin, with its leaden sound and faux mystical musings, was my brother's music. After a decade or two passed, I was able to get a perspective on the band and to recover from that ugly phase of rock 'n' roll. I'm drawn to their later stuff, more of a "Physical Graffiti" or "In Through the Out Door" guy, albums that are more nuanced. (A year after that last studio effort, just as the band was selling tickets for what would have been a monster tour of America, Bonham infamously choked on his own vomit and died.)
"Becoming Led Zeppelin" certainly does justice to the band. It's an acid test for both fans and detractors. As that very first song said, "Good Times Bad Times." The rest was history.
PINK FLOYD AT POMPEII (1972) (B) - This is a live performance -- it's not a concert, because there's no crowd -- captured in late 1971 and re-imagined this year in IMAX glory. Pink Floyd, by then led by Roger Waters and David Gilmour, spent four days recording music in the Italian ruins of Pompeii, with only their sound and film crews enjoying the show.
The film is bookended by slow-moving crane shots, inching in at the beginning and creeping out at the end, with the band at the center of a decrepit coliseum. At other times they wander amid columns and obelisks, producing visuals that might have been the inspiration for the Stonehenge scene in "This Is Spinal Tap." Director Adrian Maben, with cinematographers Willy Kurant and Gabor Pogany, intercuts images from frescoes and natural sights, such as steam and bubbling lava pools produced by Mount Vesuvius nearby.
Most of the songs come from 1968's "A Saucerful of Secrets" and 1971's "Meddle," though you also see the band in the studio, via added 1972 footage, recording tracks for their breakthrough "Dark Side of the Moon." It is fascinating to watch a baby-faced Gilmour, with headphones feeding him backing tracks, suss out lead-guitar licks for "Brain Damage" (above). Back at Pompeii, the band jams with precision, and you get a particular appreciation for Richard Wright's inventive work on keyboards.
The opening scenes chronicle the outdoor setup by the crew, and I was amused to see two people reverently carrying out a gong -- Chekhov's gong, if you will, because you know that it will be involved in an assault before the film ends. (Waters does the honors.) Much like the Zeppelin film, this one requires a certain level of familiarity with the band's mythos and their penchant for ethereal jamming.
I let the IMAX images and quadrophonic ambient sounds wash over me, and while I ingested no mind-altering substances in preparation, I did experience the occasional hallucinatory dozing, and so the 90 minutes passed pleasantly. The pretension of it all wasn't a bother; I know that "jazz odyssey" would arrive to burst the bubble about a decade later.
BONUS TRACKS
Pink Floyd with "Echoes: Part 1" from Pompeii:
Over the closing credits of Led Zep, from the January 1970 Royal Albert Hall show, a cover of Eddie Cochran's "C'mon Everybody":
Spinal Tap with "jazz odyssey":
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