At The Max

So far, films presented in the IMAX format have been short documentaries and nature films with a beauty and power unapproachable by conventional means. Eventually, the day had to come when the IMAX people would dare a feature. And what better way to introduce the format than to take in a show that millions are dying to see ... "the world's greatest rock band" in concert. AT THE MAX chronicles the Rolling Stones's 1990 "Urban Jungle" European tour, called "Steel Wheels" when they toured stateside.

The Rolling Stones have long since stopped being the "bad boys" of rock 'n' roll, and are now as acceptable to the general public as Neil Diamond or Frank Sinatra. And yet they're still seen as important, as relevant. AT THE MAX brings in both the "freaks" who've always loved the Stones and the middle-class parents who want to teach their kids about their favorite songs. And these boys are happy to play up their legendary status to both audiences.

Unlike the classic GIMME SHELTER, this film has no story and nothing special to say. Director Julien Temple doesn't even show much innovation or creativity with the visuals of the film. And this is not an opportunity for the boys to try out some interesting new songs, or even, for the most part, new arrangements. This is a straightforward, Our Greatest Hits flick. Which is fine--the songs are terrific--but it is a little depressing to see Keith Richards and Ron Wood on "Street Fighting Man"--both of whose records of the song (Keith on the Stone's version, Ron on Rod Stewart's) are brilliantly inventive--playing it safe and simple. The marketing strength of the movie--the Stones' acceptability to the general audience--is what keeps the movie, or even the concert, from being really great.

But you can't fault the showmanship. AT THE MAX was filmed over five nights at huge concerts in Turin, Berlin and London. The size of the show might have intimidated some performers, but not these seasoned dudes. Mick Jagger is phenomenal, to say the least. He has lost none of his energy and athleticism--not to mention ego--over the last three decades. He takes the whole enormous stage, running from edge to edge like a trapped hyperactive mouse, wooing, seducing, insulting the audience like an exaggeration of every great showman from Jolson to James Brown. He never was all that great a singer (his aging has allowed him to hit the low notes in "Ruby Tuesday" better than on the record, but he's still youthful enough to strain); nor has he ever seemed very sincere, and he certainly doesn't here. But no one can top Jagger at selling a song. At a couple of points, as the show's getting a little dull, enormous dolls start to inflate, taking over the stage (one of Temple's few inspired shots is of a "Honky Tonk Woman" doll inflating, from between her thighs; the effect is ... well, you gotta see it). Few performers could hold their own next to these, and the smoke, laser effects, etc. But somehow Jagger does it.

And this brings up the great irony of this film. AT THE MAX is actually better than the concerts. Normally, concert films seem detached, not as intimate as the magical experience of being with the stars themselves. But here the opposite is true. Concerts like this are so big that most of the audience watches them on huge video screens anyway. This film, especially in the IMAX format, is much better. You can really see the musicians' interplay, and note how the years have worn on each of them (Charlie's still the weirdest looking, but maybe that's because of how he purses his lips). Maybe it's not as good as seeing the Stones in a club in 1969, but neither is anything else these days.

But now comes the time to praise the great man. At a few points in the show, Keith Richards steps out of Jagger's shadow and steals the whole film blind. Refusing to stop trying new things, Richards goes into a classical-style electric guitar solo, eventually giving the audience a sly grin as it segues into "Paint It Black." And, for a few glorious minutes, Richards takes the mike and lets loose with "Happy," and we glimpse the brilliance that made this band truly great. Richards fools around with the guitar part, even with the tune. His voice is just as awful as ever, though lower. And, God bless him, he still slurs so much that, even with IMAX, you still can't understand the words.

Years ago, Jagger said that he didn't want to be onstage at 40, still singing "Satisfaction." Well, 40's long gone, and that song's now a big finale, with fireworks, explosions and gold confetti. Middle age has struck, and the harsh edge of most of the Stones' work has been eroded by time. But make no mistake about it. These guys have been kicking ass for three decades, and no aging, no compromises to middle-class values, no huge stage shows and no IMAX is gonna stop them. (Profanity.) leave a comment