Roger Waters: The Wall Review

Anything to do with The Wall, an album from Pink Floyd where the songwriting remains middle-of-the-road and its intent ambitious, must bill itself as bigger and bigger. Roger Waters: The Wall knows this, as the bass player from the legendary progressive rock group finds a massive stage worthy of hosting his narrative album. A two-hour showcase, a behind-the-scenes look at the show coming together, and feeble philosophising of its legacy, are all put together here. Concert films are a lost art. Stop Making Sense and Blur: Live at Wembley are perhaps the best of the bunch, and at least former Pink Floyd member Waters is on hand to adapt The Wall, once again, to the stage. Playing the double album in its entirety for three years, it is no wonder a documentary spun-off from the shows looks to assess and vindicate the Waters legacy. It is his playing field.

Any tour can take its toll and, for Waters, the emotional and physical struggle of bringing The Wall on stage, irrespective of personal thoughts on the album, is an achievement. It may pale in comparison to The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and Animals, not to mention the bulk of albums preceding it and even a few to follow, but Roger Waters: The Wall is a fascinating experience. It is an attempt to understand Waters not as an artist with plenty to prove and more to say than Pink Floyd could ever offer him but as a look at the man and his principles. Delusion plays a major part in how some may feel about this film. An objective stance, understanding Pink Floyd as one of the great influences of music in our time, yet accepting Roger Waters: The Wall, is nothing more than a charismatic and well-shot waxing off of what even a passing listener will already know, should be taken.  

Visually creative work, a slick look where Waters inserts himself into places and pieces of work where his activism already lays a solid foundation. Playing the trumpet for dead veterans of war is a performative moment, one of many in a documentary which looks to use these scenes as a contrast to the character he portrays on stage with The Wall. Magnificent the stage show may look, it does not capture the magic, the necessity, of being at a show. This is not to rip away at what Waters has achieved, on The Wall or otherwise. It all looks impressive and serves the Pink Floyd album well. There is a bravado necessary to carrying a show like this and Waters has an abundance of it. Waters still sounds fantastic, even in the modern-day. He puts on a show, Roger Waters: The Wall shows that much. Anything more is projection from an obsessed listener. 

Effective live performance is no small feat. A seamless show put to film. Huge moving parts and the need to know where to stand, how to play, and where to elongate or shorten a note. It is taken for granted now, but Rogers, like the greats of the stage Jarvis Cocker and Paul McCartney, is exceptional at this. Watch on not for the music but for the direction, the sense of where to stand and what to do. Intercut with some meaningless moments of Waters looking reflective and wandering around with a trumpet, Roger Waters: The Wall is a bit rough to sit through. A frontman hoping to cut up the instrumental parts of a performance with close-ups of Gabriel Chevallier novels, letters from the past and a silver brass instrument, so the focus can still be on him, is rather telling. There is no denying the emotive powers of The Wall, but in this instance, it remains relatively loose both politically and thematically.