Like so many of my generation, I have some milestone memories of the Who.
Back in 1966, the band had just released its second album, known Stateside as "Happy Jack." The Who weren't all that well known, having only the "My Generation" hit, and so were booked into our local teen club, Code 1 in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.
I was able to plop my elbows on the platform stage, immediately to the left of Pete Townshend, who said hi. I nodded real cool like but was too shy to ask about his upcoming "rock opera" (a lifelong regret). My guitar player, Bill, had a similar choice spot in front of Roger Daltrey.
Keith Moon propelled his famous drums decorated with the Union Jack and pictures of Lily. The band played some parts of "Tommy," answering my unasked question. Then, at show's end, the smoke bombs went off and Townshend took to smashing his guitar while Moon the loon kicked the drum kit's ass.
Shock and awe all around. In the chaos, my pal Bill grabbed the shattered body of Townshend's guitar. He and the roadie fought over it in a tug-of-war until the roadie simply shoved the guitar into Bill's head. Bill went down hard, unconscious.
The 13-year-old woke up backstage, with the Who looking down on him. Bill was thrilled to be with his favorite band; they were thrilled Bill wasn't dead. Townshend explained that he couldn't afford to trash a new guitar every night -- the pieces were glued back together. But, he promised Bill, after the next night's show, the remnants would be shipped to him as a souvenir. Poor kid waited forever for that guitar, in vain, but had a great rock story to tell.
A quick one: In the summer of 2002, Who bassist John Entwistle died. The reunited Who had been scheduled to play the Hollywood Bowl two days later, but canceled, of course. Then came news that the two remaining Who members, Townshend and Daltrey, would carry on with the show, as a tribute to their fallen bandmate.
The night proved magical, equally sad and dramatic, as the band rose up once again from a member's sudden death. I brought my children, who had only seen one rock concert before: Paul McCartney. Imagine. They remain Who fans to this day.
And so Monday night, an unexpectedly fine Who experience, as the band's new "The Who at Kilburn: 1977" screened at the Arclight in Sherman Oaks, Calif. There are more Who screenings this month in cinemas around the country.
DVD and 
come out Tuesday via Image Entertainment.Roger Daltrey turned up at the Arclight to answer a few questions from the packed house, which welcomed him with a friendly standing-O.
How does he stay in such great shape? one guy asked. "Shagging," the rock star answered. "Lots of shagging." After the laughs died down, he added, "My wife gets really embarrassed when I say that."
What did he remember about the 1977 show? The filming was arranged by a U.S. fan, Jeff Stein, who'd pitched the project to the band. Daltrey remembered feeling quite surrounded by the cameras, which were everywhere on stage -- six of them, shooting in big bad 35 mm. The hometown audience of 800 were good sports about the filming, Daltrey said, since they got in free.
Keith Moon was in pretty bad shape, and it proved to be his last proper live show before he died, Daltrey said. Moon had been partying in L.A. during the band's yearlong layoff, and came home far from being in the athlete's shape that his frantic drum playing required.
Regardless, Daltrey recalled, Moon not at his best still was plenty special.
The Kilburn footage stayed mostly underground, in part because Townshend and Moon were boozed up, the story goes. Stein and his cameras returned for another shoot a few months later, which became "The Kids Are Alright
." Moon died the next year.
." Moon died the next year.The Kilburn performance was full of punch and artistry, with songs ranging from "My Generation" to "Who Are You." There seemed to be a good bit of improvisation, but who knows. The band still had plenty of "Live at Leeds" in it.
The negatives had spent three decades in a news archive, and so the film looked remarkably fresh, if a bit grainy. The mix, at least in the theater, gave quite distinct separation to the instruments, like an old stereo record. I sat in front of Entwistle's bass, while Townshend's guitar thundered out of the far side of the screen. (The audience clapped when the audio engineers' credits rolled by.)
The band leaned on "Who's Next" material, such as the stunning version of "Baba O'Reilly" (Daltrey told us that album hadn't made much of an impression at the time.)
Other highlights were the extended jam on "My Wife," "Behind Blue Eyes," "Substitute" and a long medley that had some "Tommy" in it.
I can't recall any rock performance film that succeeds better at putting viewers so virtually on stage. (YMMV on a smaller screen.) The band was plenty chatty, with the crowd and each other, and the filmmakers had the sense not to edit out the banter.
Townshend drew plenty of laughs from the movie audience as he abused a guy fooling with his guitar picks, then knocked over an amplifier in anger. The surly guitarist later invited "any of you little gits" to come out of the audience to try to take his guitar. There was a boozy smile in there somewhere.
(The Kilburn movie played on PBS as a fundraiser earlier this fall.)
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" packed in a generous collection of previously ignored performers in its extras, setting the standard for this sort of thing.
" was largely viewed as a bummer, so this release comes to us overdue and quite welcome. An interesting 
," well worth a rental to see some of today's top rockers in their early years.
" of five movies. Throughout the 1943 musical, Miranda runs amuck across Berkeley's military-like dance productions, disrupting and humanizing the spectacles like a psychedelicized Engergizer Bunny. Glorious and gaudy.
" came out (let's hope there's a "Two"). A few too many intriguing reviews for Haynes' film had me down at the new Arclight cinema, enjoying almost every minute of the 2-hour-plus show.
," available on a Paramount double-disc DVD. The docu should be subtitled something like "Bob Dylan, 1960-65." 
the well-heeled 
and the deliciously gory history lesson 
and "
." All three get first-class studio treatments and "Deliverance" comes in 
and 
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" and "
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" is set for Nov. 6 and the cable sensation "High School Musical 2" comes out Dec. 11. Both titles are going day and date with Blu-ray editions.
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. DVD released in 2004 by Paramount, although it seems identical to the disc released in "The Godfather DVD Collection" (2001). Dark, grainy, soft but still quite handsome. Time for a new set of "Godfathers." (The greatest sequel ever by acclaim, "The Godfather II" ranks 32nd. Huh?) Great commentary by director Francis Ford Coppola.
. DVD released by Warner in 2003 as a double-disc set. Who better to provide commentary on the populist masterpiece than Roger Ebert, the people's film reviewer? Four-plus hours of extas. The movie looks amazing, digitally scrubbed of almost all wear while retaining a fair amount of contrast and original grain.
. DVD released by MGM in 2005 as a double-disc set. All of the key participants give blow-by-blow accounts of making the movie. Extras dig deep into Martin Scorsese's methods and motivations, drawing heavily on the observations of Thelma Schoonmaker, his longtime editor. The widescreen anamorphic images (1.85:1) look sensational, with concussion blacks and silky grays across a distinct scale.
. DVD released by Warner in 2002 as a double-disc set. Dazzling transfer has the Technicolor images leaping off the screen. A dancing-on-the-ceiling 5.1 soundtrack. Plenty of extras, including a new documentary about the musical's making; a BBC piece on Arthur Freed; and a curious collection of Arthur Freed/Nacio Herb Brown songs used in earlier films.
