Review: The White Stripes - Under Great White Northern Lights (Film)

The White Stripes are the most important American band since Nirvana. Don't dispute it or think about it too hard. Just accept it and move on.

Jack and Meg White have made being so impossibly retro and undeniably cool  look so effortless over the past 13 years that you've come to simply expect greatness while always struggling to not set your hopes too high.

"Yeah Elephant was good but there's no way they can top that."

Que "Blue Orchid".

"Two people in one band? Psh... it can't be that amazing right?"

Que "Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground".

In a world of auto-tune and self conscious bands who spend weeks in the studio simply trying to find the perfect drum sound, The Stripes are outfitted with throw back delta blues and dusty garage riffs straight outta Motown U.S.A. No computers allowed (cough until recently).

While the band has laid relatively low since 2007's Icky Thump, Under Great White Northern Lights is the duo's first package of officially released material since that time.

A documentary film as well as a live album, Northern Lights follows Jack and Meg's journey to not simply undertake their first full scale tour of Canada, but to visit every province and territory - and everywhere in between - along the way.

Critics and naysayers have lauded that Jack White is simply another calculated rock star in the guise of a modern day Marlon Brando with a six string. The red, white and black color schemes, the storyline about the pair being brother and sister (when in reality they are ex spouses), his disdain for any kind of modern technology and simply the fact that his band only has one other person in it.

And while there are some legitimate points to be made for each of those reasonings, they all exclude the single most important thing about The White Stripes - the music. 

So what if he dresses in only three colors and has a knack for coming off as rehearsed from time to time? Isn't Lady Gaga guilty of the same crime?

The film, directed by Emmett Malloy, is a rare glimpse into the world that the band has ever so carefully constructed over the past decade. White, who has always played the media to a certain degree, truly seems genuine when discussing the ethos of the band - that being "Less Is More".

"It's not a gimmick. The music has total control over us." White says.

And how can you not believe him when for 90 minutes you're assaulted with one blistering performance after another. For only two members, the band sounds how I would imagine the end of the world sounding like - explosive, raw and unpredictable.

White doesn't play guitar, he brutally murders it to the point that the feedback his guitar generates sounds like a last gasp for air. Nor does he sing. He shouts, whinnies, whimpers and wines his way through a concert not based off a rigid set list, but the tangible and earthly chemistry he shares with Meg. Say what you want about the lady, this band would not be the same without her.

Yet the best moments come when the two play off stage. A city bus, a day care center, a boat (suck it Andy Samberg) a bowling alley, a town square or a retirement home for Eskimos all play excellent host to a rock band connecting with their fans beyond the traditional rock show format. It's like a live musical NetFlix. Why go to the concert when the concert can come to you?

One of the more interesting scenes comes when Jack lets Meg know how a lack luster gig went down.

"We gotta be on the ball next time," he says drenched in sweat while looking completely anxious. "I don't know there were too many tempo changes in songs and sometimes we were just too slow. I mean fuck man!"

Says Meg, "I thought it was just fine."

How much you wanna bet Meg wins this fight? The movie doesn't show you, but it just makes sense. If White is the southern gentleman transplant and total Mama's boy he always claims to be, he'll always listen to her because women know best right? Especially when she's an important aesthetic to the band.

But the final performance speaks volumes to how "non-gimmicky" The White Stripes are. It's simply Jack sitting at a piano playing "White Moon" as Meg sits next to him with tears streaming down her face. After the song is over, Jack simply embraces her while she continues to sob in the most peaceful yet uncontrollable fashion ever. But how do you know it's authentic... it all takes place in an empty room.

Under Great White Northern Lights is The Kids Are Alright for the new mellinimum. It's filled with break neck performances, aw shucks realism that rock is so desperately void of and a love story between two people who love their music more than any other band on the planet right now.