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Herman: Simply explained The Beatles' breakup, though the concluding rooftop performance made it bearable. And that rooftop scene became a rock reference point, a role model for the shape of things to come.
13. AMERICAN GRAFFITI (1973; George Lucas)
In 1962, two friends (Richard Dreyfuss and Ron Howard) separately cruise the streets of their small town as they try to decide whether to head for college or stay put.
Brunson: In compiling our choices, we tried to stay away from pictures that weren't in some way set within a specific musical milieu or didn't feature a character jockeying to become a singer/musician/groupie/whatever. But in this beloved classic, small-town America is itself the ultimate rock milieu, with omniscient Wolfman Jack as a benign deity and a killer soundtrack serving as the gospel music for a generation.
Grooms: I saw this film seven times in the first 10 days of its theatrical release. Still, my mania was nothing compared to George Lucas' obsession with getting the mood, clothes, music, cars, language and customs exactly right for his portrait of early rock's teen culture. The "automotive ballet" shot of cars cruising the main drag to the tune of "Runaway" still gives me chills.
Wicker: Since I grew up in a small town where cruising was an entirely acceptable form of teenage entertainment, I totally identified with the characters in this film. But it's truly the use of the music as a motif holding the story together that kicks this film up at least three notches, to paraphrase Emeril.
14. STOP MAKING SENSE (1984; Jonathan Demme)
The critical darlings Talking Heads jam their way through a 16-song set that includes "Psycho Killer," "Burnin' Down the House" and "Once In a Lifetime."
Brunson: A rock orgy of volcanic power, this changed our perception of what we could reasonably expect from a concert movie. Jonathan Demme and cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth (Blade Runner) shoot in an inventive style that goes far beyond front-row-center. And at the nucleus is head Headsman David Byrne, a human dynamo who meshes the inexhaustible performing stamina of Bruce Springsteen with the rubber-limbed capabilities of a Warner Bros. cartoon character.
Shukla: Demme directed this concert film of Talking Heads with minimal flash, letting the music do the, um, talking. The band is phenomenal and singer David Byrne's visual absurdities enhance the eclectic combo that was Talking Heads.
15. ALMOST FAMOUS (2000; Cameron Crowe)
A high school boy (Patrick Fugit) is given the opportunity to follow an up-and-coming band on the road and write about their exploits for Rolling Stone magazine.
Mills: Almost my life -- or so I fantasized, as I watched an aspiring young rock critic grill rock stars and nail nubile groupies while learning life lessons.
Farris: Just a great movie for all of us who have ever longed to say those cool four words: I'm with the band. Exceptional casting here, too, especially Philip Seymour Hoffman as gonzo journalist Lester Bangs. That was genius!
16. THE HARDER THEY COME (1973; Perry Henzell)
Newly arrived in Jamaica, a young man (Jimmy Cliff) hopes to make it as a reggae star but first finds himself turning to a life of crime.
Crazy Horse: Jimmy Cliff's starring turn and immortal themes for this imaginary Western-by-the-sea (picturing those white cliffs of Dover?) made this an instant classic. And generations of stoners keep it dear.
Herman: Simply the best overall soundtrack of pop ever assembled on film -- "Pressure Drop," "Draw Your Brakes," "Rivers of Babylon" and "Shanty Town," to name a few. As the song goes, "Dem a loot, Dem a shoot, Dem a wail in shanty town."
17. 24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE (2002; Michael Winterbottom)
Idea man Tony Wilson (Steve Coogan) spearheads a musical revolution in Manchester.
Schacht: "Genius. Poet. Twat." Thus read the tagline to Michael Winterbottom's often hilarious docudrama about the late-1970s/early-1980s "Mad-chester" music scene and three of its key players: Joy Division's Ian Curtis, Happy Mondays' Shaun Ryder and impresario Tony Wilson (played brilliantly by Steve Coogan). For a while there, Wilson's label (Factory Records), the Hacienda venue and Manchester were the center of the music world, and Winterbottom does a bang-up job recreating that vibrant scene.
Shapiro: This tells the story of producer/entrepreneur Tony Wilson, who had the genius (and prescient timing) to mainline the exploding talents of various musical bands of late-'70s/early-'80s Manchester (New Order, Happy Mondays, etc.) into his Factory Records label. Directed in mock-documentary style by the madly prolific British director Michael Winterbottom, who masterfully captures the "moment" of the meteoric Manchester scene.