The husband of Elisabeth Shue knows something of sexiness, so I’m not entirely surprised by Davis Guggenheim’s evocative treatment of guitars and their players in this fine documentary. It’s rare that my mouth waters and I get chills down my spine while watching movies or television – usually it’s food preparation that does it – but the awe with which the camera depicts the hardware involved in this production, especially early on, bringing you in, made those physiological responses kick in almost immediately.

And this movie is about the guitar as much as it’s about Jimmy Page, The Edge, and Jack White. Likewise, their stories are told in the context of rock music – and its ancestors – over the last seventy or eighty years. These three men are interesting and worthy choices, because of their talent and their stature, but also because of the way their styles mesh and differ. Their selection might have been with an eye towards covering a lot of musical ground, and time: Page’s heyday in the late 60s and 70s, The Edge’s in the 80s, and on-and-off since then, and Jack White’s over the last decade or so. All are clearly intelligent men, articulate, and willing to share the details of their life’s passions. The openness wasn’t startling, exactly, but it was refreshing and captivating: Jimmy Page doesn’t really sing, The Edge only a little, and Jack White (as he admits here) often keeps behind a gimmick to let, as they all do, the music speak for them.

Early on, the three men are shown in cars, headed to meet up with each other, ostensibly to play and talk about their craft. The result isn’t exactly a bait and switch, but the film is far less a recording of this summit and whatever is to go on there, than it is three oral histories interwoven and played against each other. The film is only very loosely organized, each story much more in relation to the others than to some linear chronological narrative. Their early lives are illuminated only briefly, most significantly in the context of the music and in particular of the electric guitar. While the focus wavers slightly as the documentary rolls on, the scope of the presentation is well and clearly defined.

The aforementioned summit is depicted every so often along the way, and frankly I was hoping for more of it. It’s true that much of the information that was to be communicated was shown and not told (though as with any documentary like this, plenty was also said). But this also wasn’t a roundtable discussion, an extended Charlie Rose interview, say, though I would have loved to have been a fly on that wall for a little while longer. I especially loved seeing them learning each other’s songs, just as they might have done with popular songs when they were just starting out. That’s the key, right there: Little was made of their rise to celebrity, but much was made of their interest, their love, really their decision to let fly and fully embrace this art.

I was also pleased to hear of their curiosity, to hear new music and to play music differently, seeking out whatever technology would bring their preferred sound into the world. The chance meetings they had in life, the influence that friends, family, co-workers have had by way of introducing new ideas or devices, these were fascinating things to hear about, but comforting, too – that there are real men behind this music, all from somewhere, all touched by this wonderful piece of hardware.

In brief: Guitar porn. Recommended if you love rock music, highly recommended if you play guitar, essential if any of these guys’ bands are among your top three.
3.5 stars/4 (A-)
Available on Netflix Instant