SXSW Review: ‘The White Stripes: Under Great White Northern Lights’ Roars With Vitality

Charged with the spirit of generosity and inventiveness emblematic of their unprecedented cross-Canadian tour (a feat even the Nickelbacks of the world don’t bother with), Emmet Malloy’s “The White Stripes: Under Great White Northern Lights” is a wonderfully compelling documentary on the candy-coated twosome.

Though music and (or in) film is ostensibly The Playlist’s raison d’etre, there’s no denying the topic has somewhat bored us in recent years. There’s only some many ways you can slice a music documentary and in the last few years, we’ve been feeling minor fatigue at some of the familiarity involved in many of these documentaries. However, “Under Great White Northern Lights” is captivating, and fully harnesses the ferocious live energy and connection of the back-to-basics blues rockers that works on multiple levels.

Often music documentaries are engrossing either because of the band on their own or because of the filmmaker, and rarely both, but this intimate cross-country travelogue thankfully boasts two-tiered strengths, a rich cinematic experience — Malloy’s cameras are both flies on the wall, capturing lava-rock eruptions and confidential peering into the still mysterious dynamics of the band.

The other impressive element of the doc is how it transcends fandom or appreciation. That is to say, this writer appreciates the White Stripes, but has become somewhat disengaged with their work in recent years. But the band, and even as a limited twosome are utterly ferocious live and during the mixed-media concert sections — the film is shot in color, black and white, red filters and various, low-grain, textured stocks — Malloy’s cameras drop you down into the eye of the hurricane, practically teleporting you into one of their concerts.

Jack and Meg White are allusive. Obviously, they’re a divorced couple and not brother and sister as once claimed, but the enigmatic quality of the band still persists. While they are no longer together romantically, they are still spiritually connected on a level that even we don’t understand, but the duo have maintained an almost mind-meld telekinsis that seems to be alive at all times and certainly when punishing their instruments on stage.

Tellingly, during their interview sections, White says the best quote ever written about the twosome is that they are “the most fake and real band of all time” that seems to suggest he agrees with their presentation being fabricated, but their music is made of very real human blood, sweat and tears. Still, the comment is still a sideways and aloof one and while the documentary does reveal layers, it still thankfully doesn’t rob the band of their beguiling mysteriousness. There’s an ineffable, transcendent connection and dynamic between the White Stripes; as if they have evolved past lovers into something new. No one can penetrate their bond, but Malloy gets as close as humanly possible without revealing the spiritual je ne sais quois.

Raw, rough-hewn and yet roaring with an electric vitality Emmet Malloy’s “The White Stripes: Under Great White Northern Lights” is the blueprint for music docs that all filmmakers should strive for: ones that are loose, feel like they have a sense of danger to them and crackle with life. Without spoiling too much, the concluding, wordless scene is flooring. On the 10th anniversary of the band’s existence — still to this date their last show ever played so far — Jack White takes to a piano, exhausted, to play “White Moon.” It’s not for anyone other than Jack himself and Meg who quietly saddles up next to him on the piano bench. As White moans through the devastating catharsis of the song, Meg begins to gently weep as Malloy’s team silently captures the moment. It’s utterly breathtaking and quivers with emotion and magical, unspoken depth. Did the band break up in that moment? (That’s the rumor, they haven’t played since). It is a goodbye or happy tiresome tears for 10 years on the road or just of the moment? We may never know and it’s as beautiful a scene as anything burned onto celluloid we’ve seen this year. [A]