This storm-tossed 1937 gem was the first flowering of Michael Powell's nearmystical vision of the British landscape. It tells of the death of one tiny, remote Scottish island, as young folk abandon old ways for the mainland, but Powell's cinematic treatment of the scudding light and shade of nature—part raw, heroic documentary, part mythic poem—raises the stakes to infinity and beyond. Magic realism, indeed.
With this triple-pronged DVD release, GN'R are freeze-framed forever: caught in a moment, celebrated and finally tucked away as a fond memory. The video collection tops and tails an extraordinary achievement while, live, the band are at their most untouchable and preposterous. Surely Axl must have sacked, then sued, the stylist for the lycra micro-shorts...
Rod Stewart was a better singer than Mick Jagger—and at least as good a bottom-wiggler—but the Faces were always a poor boy's Stones, and this DVD can't rewrite history. Cheaply produced with ugly thumbnail factoids running below it, the fragmentary live footage intermittently captures the band's rootsy swagger but also reminds one of what an old tart Rodney could be. Singing "I'd Rather Go Blind" in a gold jumpsuit, he could be Freddie Mercury.
Imagine if the Doors, The Byrds or Love had, long after their late '60s heyday, reconvened to record a quartet of brilliant albums, the first a double LP of classic, even epic, proportions issued just months before punk broke.
