Get a front-row ticket to the Stones

The film opens with the frantic Scorsese worrying about an upcoming concert to be filmed in New York City's Beacon Theatre. Just days before the Stones are set to perform, he still has no idea what the band is going to play. Lead singer Mick Jagger, meanwhile, seems relatively at ease about the whole thing, planning out the show while listening to classical music. These first moments capture the tension between a filmmaker who wants every moment calculated and a band that just goes with the flow. Jagger slyly confesses to the camera that Scorsese will not know the final set until moments before the band goes on stage, and true to his word, Jagger delivers the list of songs to be played with only seconds to go. Jagger and company then proceed to electrify the audience. Scorsese intercuts the rockers' energetic performance with clips culled from their long career in which they reflect on their longevity. Under Scorsese's sure hand, the concert film becomes a surprisingly poignant meditation about what it means to keep creating even as the years keep passing by.

The film captures the actual performance with the perfection that one would expect from a master filmmaker. Thanks to swift, kinetic camerawork, Scorsese imbues the Stones' already toe-tapping performance with astonishing visual power. Jagger seems larger than life, bursting into the frame as he screams into his microphone. By contrast, the craggy-faced Richards casually laughs when he makes mistakes. Unlike the lead singer, the famously aloof Richards actually acts his age. After a particularly long song, drummer Charlie Watts looks into the camera and sighs with fatigue. It is precisely in the fleeting moments where the rockers acknowledge their own mortality that Scorsese's take on the concert is at its most intimate and revealing. These instances make the legendary Stones look remarkably human and are accentuated by the stock footage that peppers the film.

Returning to the band's early years is particularly jarring, as the old men performing at the Beacon clash with the fresh-faced boys they once were. This seemingly random assortment of clips comes together to show how the rock band has continually grappled with the expectation that it stay young. The most ridiculous moment is when the clearly over-the-hill Jagger tells a Japanese talk-show host that he has just turned 29. As the band members remain aware of the pressure they're under in an industry tailored to far younger artists, they stalwartly continue to perform. Keith Richards puts his finger on this drive in mumbling that he "wakes up" every time he is on stage. Using these old interviews, Scorsese suggests that the real drug for the artists is the burst of life they still get every time they stand in front of their throngs of fans.

The Stones' insatiable appetite for performance perfectly fits the philosophy of Scorsese, who has spent several decades making films. Though Scorsese erases himself from much of the movie, the audience gains a clear view of his undiminished passion for his medium and art. When the charismatic Jagger informs the director that his cameras prove "annoying" for both the band and the audience, Scorsese quietly explains his need for all the equipment. During this brief show of authority, the filmmaker reveals that underneath the thick glasses and white hair lies an auteur with a crystal-clear vision and undiminished creativity on par with the still-rocking Rolling Stones. Seeing Scorsese plan his dance of cameras around the band during a performance is just as exhilarating as any of Keith Richards' numerous guitar riffs. The one fault of the documentary is that Scorsese appears as little as he does. Unfortunately, one is forced to imagine the incredible tension that must have been required in Scorsese's control room to ensure that the Rolling Stones come across well on film.

To Rolling Stones fans, "Shine a Light" is unquestionably required viewing. After all, not even front-row seats get you as close to the icons as Scorsese does here. Those who do not know "Paint It Black" from "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" also need to take this film in at the movie theater. The aural pleasure of the Stones merges seamlessly with Scorsese's vibrant imagery. Because the collaboration between these phenomenal artists only sets you back a mere $7.50 at the Garden, you have no excuse to pass up this bargain.

Four out of five paws

+ Scorsese's attuned eye injects a Rolling Stones concert with a powerful visual energy. Revealing look at an aging filmmaker and an aging band.

- Scorsese erases himself from the movie far too early.