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D.A. Pennebaker's "Don't Look Back" is one of my favorite pieces of cinema.  As a documentary, it's a pretty raw slice of filmmaking.  There are no arguments to be made or votes to be earned.  It is simply observing Bob Dylan on stage and off.  And it unfurls quite interestingly.  That being said, walking into Martin Scorsese's "Shine A Light," his concert doc on the Rolling Stones, I was hoping to see a bit more of the Stones in their preproduciton process.  The opening ten minutes are great; we see Mick and company survey the auditorium, fret over playlists, and even greet some power players like the Clintons.  And then there's Scorsese, planning, planning and planning.  He is a bolt of energy and is fascinating to observe.  Then the concert starts and for the next two hours we watch song performed after song.

That's not a complaint either.  This isn't some droned out Hannah Montana concert.  It's alive and full of improvisation--no matter how choreographed some of the camera movement may seem.  Much of this credit is due to the camera talent which includes Robert Elswit ("There Will Be Blood") and Emmanuel Lubezki ("Children of Men") among others.  And the rest of the credit goes to Scorsese who cross-sections the show to its core with his direction (obviously off camera, unseen) and to frontman Mick Jagger who still, like a maniac, orchestrates his body movement into a higher performance which only makes each song more valuable.

But by the end, even though I was humming the tunes on the way out of the theatre, I didn't feel over-the-top happy.  I was missing that tingling sensation at the tailbone that Ebert often associates with the feeling you get after watching a great piece of work.  I couldn't put my finger on it at first.  But now looking back, the truth was simple: I wanted more Marty.

It's very strange when you look back on Scorsese's career.  His films in the 70s, 80s and even 90s redefined American cinema--though he never was that "popular" Director with the general public.  He wasn't the Spielberg with the iconic baseball hat on.  He didn't have the trademark beard that George Lucas carried.  He just made great films, a lot of which many dumb individuals still haven't seen.  His early attempts at reaching Hollywood popularity, like with his remake of "Cape Fear," barely made a ripple.

Yet it seems that in the last few years, with his forming of Leonardo DiCaprio--one of the biggest stars in the world--into his new Bob DeNiro, Scorsese has crossed over big barriers and has become something he never was: a popular Director with the general public. 

This becomes all the more interesting once it is noted that just because Scorsese has reached critical mass doesn't mean that he's sold out.  His films are still wonderful.  "Gangs of New York" gave us Day-Lewis' timeless character of Bill the Butcher.  "The Departed" won the Best Picture Oscar and finally earned Scorsese his Best Director statuette.

Scorsese is everywhere now.  He's seen online directing a fictional version of a lost Hitchcock scene ("The Key to Reserva").  In theatres across the nation, he's appearing in AT&T Cingular spots urging audience members to turn off their cell phones before their show starts.

And I love it.

So maybe I have a Scorsese-addiction problem, like a drug thing.  I'm hooked.  Here's one of the greats, someone I have always admired, finally getting his due.  

Is it bad then that I even noticed Bruce Willis, with a yellow baseball hat on, in the audience during "Shine A Light" just because I was leaning forward trying to get a peek somewhere of Marty sitting at the control desk?

Cocaine eyes indeed.