Aimless, almost effortless rock documentary, shot at a moldie-oldie concert in New York (Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry, the Shirelles, etc.) and riddled with small doses of unidentified Fifties data (newsclips, TV shows, movies). It constantly reminds you of pleasurable entertainments you would rather be watching than this one; and the live music, performed by the original artists plus fifteen years, makes you wish you were hearing the original recordings instead. (Not even slow-motion photography can make Diddley and Berry appear to be the lumbering giants they are cracked up to be.) Things liven up, short-windedly, upon the appearance of panic-eyed Little Richard, bitching in the wings about the stage set-up and then scattering his regal vestments over the screaming throng. (1974) — Duncan Shepherd
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