...last night on HBO with my older daughter, a burgeoning fan. Although I have always liked many of the songs, I've never been a fan of the group (well, except Charlie Watts, who just seems to be bemused by the antics of the boys in front).
My thoughts about the doc, during which I admittedly fell asleep at several points:
1) According to the credits, Bill Wyman is your "Historical Consultant"? Isn't he a member of the self-same group that essentially said, "It's been a blast; well, what we can remember of it."?
2) If so much of this documentary is comprised of never-before-seen footage, how come it felt like we'd seen this all before (albeit I'd never seen Mick Jagger's bare behind before)?
3) Speaking of Mick's derriere, Jagger is a poseur. I know this is a critical cliche at this point, but when, at film's end, in a brand new clip we see him still "with moves like Jagger" (i.e., prancing with open shirt falling off his shoulders, etc.), I gotta ask, "Really, Mick?"
4) Speaking of cliches, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, documentary directors, no more cameras trailing the performers as they wind their subterranean ways from the dressing room to the stage! They all do it. Sinatra did it. Perry Como probably did it. And, yes, there are many hangers-on of all sorts who accompany them as they go. Sinatra had them. Como probably had them. Figure out something new.
5) There's a reason why Brian Jones is my older daughter's favorite Stone.
6) I think the moss has officially gathered.
No Jones, no Stones!
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