It isn’t enough to just see this movie on the big screen – you need to see it in IMAX. You need Keith Richard’s elephantine, pine-cone lookin’ leathery punim bearing down on you six storeys tall. (It also helps to have a few glasses of ale beforehand, too.)

I loved every unnecessary moment of this glorious portrait of excess. Yes, the Stones should have retired ages ago. Yes, Martin Scorsese hasn’t really made a good movie in a while now. But it’s still fun to let both of these industries churn out more of what they give us.

I love all these old guys. I even love that this tribute to rock and roll was a frickin’ Clinton Fund benefit concert. (Now THAT’S hardcore, man.) All the sexy white chicks planted up front are able to sing along, even to some of the “medium known” tunes – were they prepped?

Mick Jagger still struts around and shows his flat stomach and smiles and smiles. Buddy Guy shows up and grins in a wide angle lens; Jack White shows up and embarrasses himself and Cristina Aguilera of all people steals the stage for a moment. Jeers, though, for cutting the “black girls” line from “Some Girls” (I need to know whose decision that was) but cheers to the Stones for having the chutzpah to show their crows feet in IMAX.