THE LAST WALTZ: 4K UHD Blu-ray (United Artists, 1976) Criterion

Martin Scorsese’s The Last Waltz (1976) is owed much, if not all of the kudos heaped upon it in the intervening decades, as the greatest rock-u-tainment of all time. Only part of its hype at the time stemmed from the fact The Band was winding down as a preeminent force of nature on the American rock n’ roll scene. For the rest, fans were giddy with genuine excitement that their farewell would be marked for posterity by America’s then up-and-coming filmmaker, Martin Scorsese. Indeed, Scorsese came to this project well-versed, not only in his command of story-telling prowess, already on display in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974) and Taxi Driver (also in 1976), but having served as editor on the iconic, Woodstock (1970) and Elvis on Tour (1972).  And besides, here was a truly star-studded farewell for The Band, caught in the timber and tenure of rock’s last hurrah, with all the grit, gauze and gaudy excess one might have faintly recalled if blessed to have lived through its golden epoch on the first run. Although Michael Chapman gets the nod as cinematographer, legendary photogs, Laszlo Kovacs and Vilmos Zsigmond are essential in conspiring on a truly eloquent visual tome, framing such luminaries of their moment as The Staples Singers, Van Morrison, Levon Helm, Neil Young and Joni Mitchell, in all their subtle wane of halcyon glory.

Scorsese’s approach to the ‘concert movie’ straddled a queer chasm; on the one hand, with its minutely detailed choice of lighting and camera movement, a muchly celebrated formalization in the art of picture-making yet, on the other, total experimentation, unafraid to captures the lulls as well as the highs of The Band’s Winterland Ballroom swan song from Thanksgiving Day. To be certain, Scorsese storyboarded every last second of The Last Waltz, yet so as to appear free-flowing and unorthodox in its presentation. Consider only, that the first song we hear, ‘Don’t Do It’ is actually the last song of the evening. So, any chronological critique of the actual concert’s musical groundswell becomes moot as the film’s musical repertoire overtakes it – the concert, deliberately reconceived for new dramatic highs and lows. The images – and more importantly, perhaps - the sounds Scorsese reassembles herein burst forth like a cornucopia of ‘now’ time-honored memories that, back in ‘76, were as fresh and as deeply interwoven into the social fabric of the national rock scene, fleetingly potent and of the moment, yet, so frightfully unaware they would not last out the decade.  

The Last Waltz was to be the first rock-u-mentary photographed on 35mm film, utilizing a ‘then’ state-of-the-art 24-track recording system. With such attention to sound recording, curiously, the theatrical release was in mono. Propelled by the 70’s propensity for hardcore drug and alcohol abuse, the proscenium of Scorsese’s hallucinogenic excursion is thick with the magnificent rot of undeniably coked up rockers, some already crested over the apex of their mythical stamina and raw prodigality. Neil Young, as example, appears to be two blips away from cardiac arrest while Van Morrison, bloated and cheesy, sweats in sequins like a cheap Elvis knock-off. Muddy Waters offers a riveting rendition of ‘Mannish Boy’ but Neil Diamond, looks quite nonplused to have been invited at all by The Band’s lead guitarist, Robbie Robertson, as he sings as though he were horrendously reading the lyrics off cue cards. Robertson gets the lion’s share of close-ups and cutaways in The Last Waltz. Clearly, he is Scorsese’s fav’ and muse. And why not. He’s the most articulate and charismatic. The musical highlight of Scorsese’s picture is The Band, belting out ‘The Weight’ with the soulful Staple Singers in support – a number shot on a soundstage as it failed to properly materialize to Scorsese’s liking during the live show. Arguably, Scorsese gets more mileage from these ‘staged’ bits, exercising absolute control over his medium. Ironically, much of what is compelling about The Last Waltz has nothing to do with the music, but rather The Band’s candid commentaries, Scorsese allowing his camera to run backstage, stripping bare what little illusion remains of the member’s close-knit circle. Rick Danko and Richard Manuel are clearly out of control, while Robertson, Levon Helm and Garth Hudson merely appear haggard and stumped.

Manuel’s performance in The Last Waltz is particularly fraught with sadness. The man is so incredibly strung out, he misses his cue for ‘I Shall Be Released’. Seemingly insecure, desperate and depressed, Manuel is barely recognizable, and barely glimpsed in The Last Waltz – Scorsese’s attempt at ‘damage control’. Manuel had barely 10 years of life left in him. During the interim between The Last Waltz and his death in 1986, he went through the painful rigors of a sustained disillusionment, slowly losing his grip on reality. After his model/wife, Jane Kristianson left him, he shunned the life of a rocker and became a Jehovah’s Witness. Unlike his fellow band members, who ventured out on their own, the fear that somehow all of his youthful promise had been squandered and ultimately destroyed by his hedonism, left Manuel depleted, defeated and forlorn. The man who had a ‘voice like a hug’, and, whose falsetto could make the hairs on the back of Eric Clapton’s neck stand on end, having forsaken rock and its vices for sobriety, in the end, fell back on these terrible evils that preyed upon his darkly cynical soul. Was it all just a lie? Had the liberation from straight-jacketed fifties’ conservatism merely come to this? Indeed, found hanged from a shower-curtain rod by his own belt in an Orlando Quality Inn, Manuel’s passing left those closest to him teeming in epic grief and rank speculation.

The last act of Scorsese’s memento mori to the rock concert also features a youthful, Bob Dylan leading The Band into a decelerated and somber version of Forever Young, miraculously dug out from the doldrums by an up-beat, ‘Baby Let me Follow You Down’, all of it made whole by Scorsese’s expert staging and exquisitely clean and crisp camerawork.  As a ‘time capsule’ slavishly devoted to an era likely never again to reappear, The Last Waltz will remain ‘essential viewing’. If anything, it indulges the viewer to partake in the derailment of a once mighty rock band, decidedly – already past its prime, if not yet entirely gone to seed. The heady heights of fame already in their rearview, The Last Waltz represents a ‘just in time/get out of Dodge’ grand exit for The Band for which Scorsese makes no apology or even any genuine attempt to cover up. While there are flashes of pleasure to be derived from the experience of seeing this living homage to a dying era, viewed today, The Last Waltz very much plays like a cautionary tale about the apocalyptic and obsessing gauntlet of self-destructiveness in all hardcore musicians.

Cribbing from a new scan of the original camera negative, Criterion’s 4K remaster of The Last Waltz serves up a beautiful image in ultra-hi-def, extolling minute details to the nth degree. The spectral highlights of pure sweat glinting off these performers is particularly startling. Crowd shots, photographed under less than perfect lighting conditions, exhibit zero black crush. For the first time, we can see discernable faces in the audience with near razor-sharp precision. This is a pretty significant upgrade from anything The Last Waltz has ever looked like on home video. Colors pop as they should. And yet, it’s the subtle nuances in color and detail that come to the forefront. We get three choices for audio: a 5.1 DTS, remastered from the original 24-track magnetic masters, a 2.0 DTS prepped for the 2001 DVD release, and the original theatrical mono. While the mono is startlingly good, the ambiance of the 5.1 really rocks the house. On the 4K disc, we get 2 audio commentaries – the first from Scorsese and Robertson, the second, culled from vintage interviews with all of the members of The Band, plus crew, fans and others to have partaken in the original experience of capturing this concert on film. As Criterion has also included a Blu-ray here, these commentaries get repeated in 1080p. Add to the mix a newly produced Martin Scorsese and David Fear – 32-mins. of Scorsese waxing affectionately with Rolling Stone’s senior editor. There’s also 16-mins. of Scorsese and Robertson from 1978, and Revisiting The Last Waltz, a 23-min. retrospective produced and directed by Stephen Altobello for MGM/UA Home Video’s 2002 DVD release. Finally, and for your consideration: 13-mins. of rare outtakes left on the cutting room floor, a theatrical trailer, and, TV spots, padded out by an essay from critic, Amanda Petrusich. Bottom line: despite its cult status, The Last Waltz is not for everyone. Indeed, as a ‘concert’ movie, it’s backstage badinage is more compelling than most of what plays out live on stage. And, it exposes more of the sad decline than meteoric supremacy of its subject matter.  However, as a testament to The Band that was, Scorsese’s flick holds up spectacularly well. The 4K edition is definitely the way to go. Highly recommended for its technical virtuosity!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

3.5