The success of a rock ‘n’ roll documentary can largely depend on expectations for a particular viewer. Fans of the profiled subject might be perfectly happy with content that includes interviews and media of the artist, and less so in any minutia associated with their history.
Becoming Led Zeppelin, recently released in both IMAX and standard formats, appears to be one of those films: There is much to admire as the documentary traces the trajectory of individual members and how they formed a band that would skyrocket to stardom. Those unfamiliar with the celebrated group’s roots or anyone who simply doesn’t care about certain details might find the result satisfying enough to view it again, and again.
However, there will be those who have deeper knowledge of certain events and can identify the omission of key particulars. If the documentary had included that missing (and sometimes impactful) information, it would have enriched the overall experience where the end result would have been more of a definitive study, and one for the ages.
It’s always a win for viewers when they are made aware of what they’re seeing and hearing in real time. This was the case for Peter Jackson’s epic The Beatles: Get Back, which has become the gold standard for the type of documentary where there was no ambiguity in what was presented: Everything was identified, including personnel, dates, audio and video. One would have expected those behind Becoming Led Zeppelin to have taken this same approach and considering the magnitude of the subject, it’s puzzling that they didn’t.
Before addressing that lapse, a full disclosure: I was a major Led Zeppelin fan beginning when the first album introduced them to the masses in 1969. I devoured their output regardless of whether I was listening zonked on mind-altering substances or not. When I learned an new LP release was imminent, I would badger my favorite record store daily to see if it finally appeared in their bins.
I was fortunate to attend many of their concerts, the first on Sept. 4, 1970, at the Forum in Inglewood, California. I distinctly remember that show because someone threw a cherry bomb as the main set was ending and when the band returned to the stage for the encore, singer Robert Plant yelled, “Who threw the firecracker?!? … You ought to be locked up.” Instead of simply ignoring that, Plant showed his humanity – caring not just for the band’s safety, but for that of his audience.
I subsequently attended Led Zeppelin concerts on Aug. 21 and 22, 1971, at the Forum. For those shows, I camped out at any venue overnight for the first and only time to be amongst the first in line to score good seats when tickets went on sale. Their Long Beach Arena appearance on July 27, 1972 was the second concert I ever attended with my future wife Cindy – the first being the Rolling Stones supported by Stevie Wonder on June 9 at the Hollywood Palladium. I saw them again at the Forum for the Physical Graffiti tour in March 1975, where Led Zeppelin performed on three dates. I’m not sure which one I attended but my brother Al — who was about to turn 15 and followed me in my love of Led Zeppelin — was so eager to see them that he practically begged Cindy and me to take him to his first-ever concert. We were happy to comply.
I know I digress, and my intent wasn’t to make those who missed out envious (OK, maybe just a little). I mentioned all this to demonstrate that, unlike those writers in music publications like Rolling Stone who sneered at every early release (something that is pointed out toward the end of the film), I am more than just a little acquainted with Led Zeppelin’s history and completely embraced their music.
The background on its members started encouragingly. There is not a single narrator, or commentary from anyone outside of the band. Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page and bassist/keyboardist John Paul Jones are seen and heard in new and archival footage created for this film, with the late John Bonham represented in an interview that was being seen for the first time, according to one of the few captions. We learned each of their histories, including how they emerged from the ashes of bombed buildings and rationing of World War II, and how they became interested in the music of the day.
While Page and (to a lesser extent) Jones are fairly well known for their output as session musicians in the 1960s, the less-known stories of Plant and Bonham were illuminating. This included how Bonham, who had previously performed with Plant, recognized that the singer was flailing in his career and brought him down to earth. One interesting tidbit was a shot of a music magazine that shows Plant had released a single titled “Our Song.” (Amusingly, the horn arrangement sounds like something out of the Tom Hanks movie That Thing You Do!)
Page became an in-demand session guitarist in the ’60s, working alone and occasionally alongside Jones, who performed bass guitar and arranged many of the iconic songs during that period. Jones’ was born John Baldwin but he adopted his stage name when he released the single “Baja” (backed by his original “A Foggy Day in Vietnam”) on Pye Records in April 1964. (Page would later join Jones in 1965 on the latter’s self-penned “Sound City”.)
The catalyst for the name change, however, wasn’t divulged. The missing answer is that it was suggested by producer Andrew Loog Oldham, who also managed (and produced early tracks) for the Rolling Stones. That was notable in itself, and it’s something that one would expect to have learned from the film.
A handful of the many artists who benefitted from the two future Led Zeppelin members’ talents are mentioned, as Jimmy Page enticingly thumbs through a date book he kept for his gigs. One of the few examples we see was Page’s creative solo on Donovan’s “Sunshine Superman.” But did we really need to hear what sounded like the entirety of “Goldfinger,” presented in a clip of Shirley Bassey miming while standing alone on a stage? Why wasn’t just a short portion of that video presented so we could have heard other segments of their plethora of songs? (There are way too many to list here.) It’s stunning that a track that featured one of Page’s biggest contributions wasn’t cited at all: Joe Cocker’s famous cover of the Beatles’ “With a Little Help From My Friends.”
Perhaps securing the rights to those songs might have been daunting or exceeded the film’s budget. But this is Led Zeppelin, not some minor act. Credit could have been given to where it was due, something easily achieved by a text crawl listing the many hit singles that featured Page and Jones. That alone would have revealed how the breadth and depth of their contributions prepared them for leaving the session world as seasoned professionals to form a new band.
After naming some of the many artists he supported, Page stated he never worked with the Beatles. I thought I knew what would follow, but it didn’t: I previously noted that Page said he arrived at a session in 1964 to find it was helmed by Beatles producer George Martin conducting the score for A Hard Day’s Night. Though Big Jim Sullivan reportedly handled much of the lead work, Page also provided guitar parts for cues including the tune Ringo Starr plays on a transistor radio at the start of the film, and on “Ringo’s Theme.” That last item was actually an instrumental culled from “That Boy,” accompanying the segment where the drummer escapes the TV studio for some “parading” that Paul McCartney’s (fictional) grandfather (Wilfred Brambell) mischievously convinces Starr to do to secretly create havoc. While technically not a Beatles session, it was significant enough to have shown there was a substantial link to the biggest band on the planet.
Page was asked to join the Yardbirds, and we get a glimpse of some of their black-and-white performance footage. That’s followed by a color portion of the band miming “Train Kept A-Rollin” where Jeff Beck appears to be getting frustrated, eventually destroying his guitar. This is a prime example of where a caption would clarify what was actually occurring. Without any context, this footage infers that Beck’s anger with his circumstances was why he left the Yardbirds. But this is in fact a clip from the 1966 movie Blow Up, and Steve Howe’s band Tomorrow (which predated Yes) was supposed to appear in the film. In an interview posted in Notes From the Edge #230, Howe told me that the production created a “cardboard” guitar that he was supposed to have smashed in the film, as neither Howe — or later, Beck — was about to destroy a valued instrument.
Although Tomorrow was on-set rehearsing that scene, they were replaced with the Yardbirds. Howe said he was “under the impression we lost it because [the Yardbirds] were bigger than us.” One could be forgiven for assuming the clip of Beck going berserk was reality. The source appeared in the closing credits, but it was too little too late. Maybe that didn’t matter to the documentary’s filmmakers but not knowing while actually watching that scene is disparagingly misleading.
The Yardbirds disbanded shortly thereafter, and Page intended to keep the band’s name with a new lineup. What is evident, as Page stated in the film, is that he knew exactly what he wanted to do – including recruiting a “kick ass” singer. With Robert Plant, he got exactly what he needed: someone who wasn’t only a talented vocalist but one who would “trade riffs” with Page. It’s hard to imagine any other singers of the day who possessed Plant’s range, let alone the willingness to repeat Page’s sinewy guitar lines.
While Page had an unidentified drummer in mind, Plant was adamant that Bonham was the only musician they should consider. Probably recognizing the talents involved, Bonham was a willing and gifted participant. He is heard at one point saying he would quietly go along with whatever the others were doing — though the word quiet belies his inspired contributions.
Page’s studio interactions with Jones led to the bassist being drafted for that role. While Jones was creative in providing bass lines that covered the lack of a rhythm guitarist, it’s never mentioned that his keyboard chops would provide, in Plant’s word, color to the instrumentation that made the band more than a simple three piece. Deciding that this was a brand-new band, Page retired the Yardbirds name for good. Based on a suggestion from the Who drummer Keith Moon, the band was rechristened Led Zeppelin. Ironically, as revealed in the film, the first song the band played together — and the one that sealed their collective fates – was the same song featured in Blow Up.
One revelation: Page knew that if his vision was to remain intact the band should finance the entire production themselves then shop around the finished product to obtain the best deal from a label that thoroughly supported them. They would be an “album band,” refusing to have some cynical record company “break their spirit.”
In fact, Page was shrewd about his arrangements when producing their albums. He was more concerned with creating pieces that were solid and imaginative, not worrying about being able to exactly replicate the studio tracks for live performances. While not explicitly called out in the documentary, it’s still apparent that adjustments would be made on stage if, for instance, a track contained both acoustic and electric guitars (e.g., “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You”), rhythm and lead guitars (“Heartbreaker”), even overlapping lead vocals (“Ramble On”). In addition, a long guitar solo was no longer anathema for the listener. I wish more had been revealed about how the songs were arranged — including the innovative recording techniques utilized – but Page knew how to solidly construct a solo. The band would be totally in sync for transitions within each piece; these songs weren’t haphazardly organized or made up of spontaneous jams: They were meticulously well thought-out.
Page’s vast studio experience also informed his creative songwriting. Led Zeppelin has been characterized as a hard rock/heavy metal band, but his influences included a great deal of pop/rock. Shining examples was “Good Times Bad Times,” the opener for their first album, as well as the bouncy “Living Loving Maid” from their second. As Page indicated in the film, he also was aware of the importance of pacing, avoiding having one type of song follow another – or as he put it, two songs with similar guitar riffing.
Plant’s comments about the wide range of, again, colors that surrounded him shows he was intelligent enough to know that he had to bring his A-game when it came to melodic and lyrical content. While most of the lyrics on the first album centered around sexual escapades, Plant would, to steal one of the song titles, bring it on home on Led Zeppelin II, citing items from The Hobbit and providing sensitivity to “Thank You” – one of the most emotional pieces in the band’s canon. Arguably one of the most achingly delicate rock love songs ever created, “Thank You” features a gentle but dynamic arrangement, quietly evocative instrumentation, harmony vocals, and 12-string guitar with minor but effective electric guitar lines. (It should be noted when this song was recreated in concert Page would only use electric guitar, replacing the elegant acoustic solo with searingly charged lines.)
The closing third of Becoming Led Zeppelin consists of live performances which I found alternatively delightful and frustrating. Among the thrilling concert footage was a performance before a bunch of old people and kids with their fingers in their ears, which didn’t affect the band. As Page would point out, Led Zeppelin would play for themselves, knowing that eventually they’d reach those who were appreciative of what the band had to offer.
We also see rare clips of the band actually performing tracks from that first album, something that was a delight to behold. But other times we’re shown what must have been soundless video overlayed with what seemed to be separate audio captured for those same gigs, or even the album track. This goes back to comments about clearness stated at the onset: Where are the on-screen descriptions clarifying what we’re seeing?
At one point there was distorted video footage of Page alone in the studio performing “Black Mountain Side” which included captioning that alerted the audience that the footage was damaged. This kind of subtitling should have been done for some of the other live portions: Be up front about where and when the live footage was recorded, or tell the viewer the reason for the hybrid video so we understand the disparity between what we’re seeing and hearing.
There is a segment where legendary DJ Wolfman Jack is talking to the band, and it’s obvious that his audio is layered over altogether different video. Instead of using artifices, why wasn’t the audio presented over, say, photos of the DJ? Led Zeppelin has a reputation for honesty in whatever they do, and it was discouraging that the filmmakers unnecessarily resorted to this kind of trickery. Explicitly telling us what we’re seeing and hearing — and not faking it, insulting our intelligence to discern the difference – would have enhanced the film.
One of the poignant aspects of Becoming Led Zeppelin was seeing the surviving members reacting to the voice of John Bonham, their long departed bandmate who died of pulmonary aspiration in 1980 during rehearsals for a North American tour — particularly Plant, whose friendship predated Zeppelin and who was responsible for convincing Page that Bonham was the only person he should consider sitting at the drums. It would be revealed later that Plant was the only member who wouldn’t agree to continuing without Bonham.
It has been reported that both Page and Jones were open to a reunion with another drummer, and many fans would have been equally supportive. But as far as Plant was concerned, Bonham was the surviving members’ brother-in-arms, a major talent who was an essential part of the equation. John Bonham’s son Jason sat in for one-off reunions – including Atlantic’s 40th Anniversary Concert in May 1988 and the Ahmet Ertegun Tribute Concert in September 2007 — Plant wasn’t on board with Led Zeppelin continuing as a band.
Finally, some thoughts about IMAX vs standard showings of the film: I missed the opening IMAX presentations at the Pacific Science Center in Seattle and attended a standard showing at a Cinemark multiplex in one of the smaller theaters. Aside of the criticisms about the film described here, overall Becoming Led Zeppelin was a satisfactory experience in the standard format. After that viewing, I learned the Pacific Science Center had brought it back for limited showings in IMAX. There were items I needed to address for this article and decided to attend one of those shows to take notes.
Before attending that screening, I wasn’t convinced that IMAX would add anything to my viewing experience for the film, that it was mainly effective for science fiction spectacles but not so much a rock documentary. Boy, was I wrong. Beyond being able to see more detail with its gargantuan image, the sound was even more astounding than I remembered in the standard showing. At one point Page discusses the recording techniques used on “Whole Lotta Love” from Led Zeppelin II (like detuning the guitar and pulling on the strings), and hearing the placement of the elements he was describing during the center high-hat driven section was absolutely astonishing.
From the standpoint of someone who as a young man would play their albums nonstop and excitedly rushed the stage at the conclusion of their shows, I can’t deny it was definitely worth my time and money – especially when viewed in IMAX. It’s fortunate we even have this film, and there are those who probably don’t care about the kinds of missing facts described.
For something that is meant to provide a historical documenting of one of the most impactful rock bands to have ever existed, the extra detail may have resulted in a much richer experience. With those reservations in mind, Becoming Led Zeppelin is in the end, well … very much becoming.
Thanks to Rick North and Jason Sullivan.
© 2025 Mike Tiano. All Rights Reserved
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