Stones Rock by vinceklortho

It was movie night again, and on the itinerary was Shine A Light, the Rolling Stones concert documentary.  The film was shot by Martin Scorcese and was recorded over two shows at the Beacon Theatre (that’s how it’s spelled, so I’m not a pompous jackass for not writing theater) in New York City.

I guess my thought in going to the movie was that although I’ve always wanted to see the Stones live if for no other reason to say that I did, I’ve never wanted to pay over $100 for a bad seat at The Last Rights Tour.  I suppose I’m slightly skeptical and wonder if the Stones have been dead for years and replaced by animatronic versions a la Chuck E. Cheese, so I need to sit close enough to prove to myself that they are, in fact, alive and kicking.  I figured that the movie would scratch my itch.  But you know what the glaring difference is between seeing the Stones live at Staples Center versus on the silver screen at CityWalk?  Hot chicks who are going to blow Mick Jagger go to Staples Center, whereas morbidly obese women from Burbank who want to blow Mick but will settle for the conscession boy in exchange for a popcorn upgrade see the movie.

The bar was set pretty darn low from the beginning of the evening.  You ever hang out with a friend and his date when you really, how shall I put this in a politically correct way, can’t stand the date?  Well, I did.  We met for drinks at the Hard Rock Cafe, which apparently is where the morbidly obese women from Burbank work as waitresses before going to the movies.  Date was so threatened by not being the focal point of every moment of the evening that she did worse than telling inside jokes.  She literally threw out names of people that only friend and date knew like a debate moderator provoking discussions on subjects of which I was ignorant.  My rebuttal?  Turn my chair towards the television and watch music videos.  Bang!  Bang!  I am the warrior.  I can be just as immature, so there.

At that point of the evening, I was praying that Moopiechops and his wife would show up so we could go to the movie. 

Moopiechops and his wife did eventually show up, and we hit the theater.  We proceeded to loudly discuss what we “had heard” about the flick.  Moopiechops, of course, kicked off the discussion by commenting on how excited he was to see Scorcese’s expose of the Jagger/Bowie tryst on the IMAX‘s giant screen.  I mentioned what an obvious let down the money shot (oh yeah, it’s hyperlinked) would be because the film was not shot in IMAX 3D.  And together, we cleared a row of seats.

Enough of us and onto the film.  It begins with a very awkward meet and greet between the Stones and Clintons.  The Clintons wore suits to the show!  Suits to a Stones concert?!  Folks, Bill was supposed to be our coolest politician.

After the Stones reluctantly participated in the meet and greet, the show began and was marked by way too many tight shots of the band, including Keith Richard’s arms.  Sure, I’ve already taken time in therapy to discuss the horror that is Keith’s arm, but indulge me if you will.  Keith’s arms are marked by crater-sized dents.  I’m certain that these dents are what is left after portions of his skin fled in the early ’80’s in the hopes of saving themselves from Keith’s extracurricular activities.

Despite the poor camera work, the Stones still rocked, evidenced by the way that young women in the front row of the Beacon were shedding clothes following each song.  I was fairly confident that if Jagger called for “Gimme Shelter“, the young bulimic woman in the front row would have binged and purged on a Mickwich.  And, in fact, she may have because Jagger is noticeably absent from the stage for a significant amount of time while Richards sings.  After Richards finishes one song, he says, “Pretty good,” as if surprised that he didn’t die before the song’s completion.  And while we’re on the topic of how old the Stones are, I noticed Mick’s wearing Nike Shox sneakers or some equivalent.  The way he still rocks, Nike should sign him to an endorsement deal.  Either that or Dr. Scholl’s should run an ad with Jagger before and after using its inserts with the song “Satisfaction.”

There are several guest performers who take the stage with the Stones.  The most notable were Christina Aguilera and Buddy Guy.  Christina Aguilera because she was wearing a sheer white men’s style dress shirt, black tights, and high-heel boots that got me so riled up that I noticed after the song I had torn through an entire box of chocolate-covered raisins.  Buddy Guy because (1) he still rocks; and (2) I think Richards racistly believed that Guy couldn’t afford a guitar because he gave Guy two after the performance.

All in all, Scorcese was just a name to put asses in the seats.  I’m pretty certain that an NYU student could have just as ably shot titty close-ups as Scorcese.  Scorcese’s big letdown was how little he documented the fat bastard in the balcony who couldn’t clap to the beat.  Check him out 2/3 of the way through the film.

The movie was well worth the ridiculous cost of a ticket at the IMAX.  It actually caused me to listen to the Stones dedicated channel on Sirius.  So, I did it…and you should too.

Desiree Update:  Desiree was invited to this event and did not attend.



Forever Young by moopiechops

This weekend was a movie weekend. Woot! well, not so much- more like cough hack, groan oh Jesus another one died. Yes you guessed it (well you probably didn’t- im terrible at hinting). We went and watched Young at Heart at the Arclight in Sherman Oaks- and its not a feel good movie.

The whole movie is one really long group rehearsal. Yes, theres a chuckle the first time you hear an 87 year old mess up the rhythm to “I feel good“, but then you really start to feel like you are in the rehearsal when you hear it for the 15 and 16th time. you think- yes he can can oh yes he can, ye she can can– well no he can’t!

Mixed in with the rehearsals are videos which im really not sure if they were made for people to take seriously or as jokes, because neither one comes off really well. As amused as i am by seeing a really large old guy dressed up in the famed BeeGees suit and throw down strikes at a bowling alley, im also disturbed by ancient sexuality. icky……

The movie actually made me feel a little uneasy. Its about a bunch of old people who sing- well, umm- sing poorly for the most part. Maybe its my music background but i felt like i was back in music school and everyone was much older and not as good. In fact the college feeling was accentuated by my friend who found a way to piss off the two people sitting in front of us so much that they decided to move seats. I was amazed- not just that there were other people in the theater, but that they could be that annoyed. I beleive they had some overall anger management issues because later on in the movie they ended up moving away from each other. I guess they wanted to really get in tune with the movie and the other people around them were just keeping them away from feeling one with the horribly out of tune and rhythm challenged chorus.

I’d love to say that the movie was like a train wreck and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. However, it was more like a train coming to a stop and the wheels just keep on squeaking- a really long train- umm yeah- it takes 2 hours to stop.

Thankfully it does come to a grinding, and breathing apparatus assisted, end. I give this one a died, umm- oooh- that was tasteless.

They are performing live in Los Angeles at the Wilshire Theater.

And to completely discredit my review they are a huge success and are on tv all over the place. So they must be doing something right, and I have to applaud that. They also do look like they are having a lot of fun and the music really does keep them alive- well most of them..

For more info on Young@Heart!

I pray that this movie does not inspire copycats that focus on elderly activities: some i can think of:

GrannyStripping- Staying young with the pole

Oldman Taggert Reads a Lot: How reading keeps your mind active in the later years.

I give this movie 1 out of 5 toppings.