It's hypnotic. It's incredible. I don't think this can properly be called a movie; it's so close to a rock album in sheer street cred.
The first thing you see after production logos is Jack White, one of the most interesting men in rock and roll, puffing away, building a one string guitar on his porch on a farm from scratch. After playing a few short riffs, he unplugs the jack and turns the amp off. "Who says you need to buy a guitar?"
What follows after the credits is an exploration of a vast variety of subjects, unified by the instrument that best represents the 20th century in music: the electric guitar. From six strings, a few electronics and a lot of wood and varnish, we branch out to rock'n'roll, the blues, alternative rock, songwriting, the nature of performance, endless discussions about effects and how they affect songwriting--or in some cases effect it. Jimmy Page, Edge and Jack White are three of the most fascinating guitarists on Earth and form a generational cross-section of guitar society. Page plays guitar because it's what he's done since he was seven; Edge plays because Larry posted a Musicians Wanted ad; Jack never wanted to play guitar in the first place.
As a documentary, it's entirely unique. There are no dates or place names. As Roger Ebert said of 45365, this isn't that kind of documentary. Guggenheim assumes your familiarity with Led Zeppelin, U2 and The White Stripes. You aren't here to learn about how the bands formed from the perspectives of the guitarists. You're here to learn how the guitarists formed your perspective of the band.
You don't watch this movie for some profound insight on the nature of the guitar; you watch it for the privilege of seeing three men who've re-invented the electric guitar for a generation discussing music. Profound insight happens along the way, but that's not as important as the little things.
Page cursing a bum chord in their final jam. White reacting with astonishment to a Son House song he's heard 1000 times. Edge searching for a sound, warning the camera crew "it might get loud".
Such small moments make up the bulk of what's to like in It Might Get Loud. It's not about the guitar or the guitarists, or music for that matter. It recreates the experience of all three while never directly reproducing them. It's unique unto itself and should be part of the new required viewing for music-, documentary- or film-lovers everywhere.
