Christopher Stamp

After a series of traumatic childhood events, a psychosomatically deaf, dumb and blind boy becomes a master pinball player and the object of a religious cult.

Peter Whitehead’s disjointed Swinging London documentary, subtitled “A Pop Concerto,” comprises a number of different “movements,” each depicting a different theme underscored by music: A early version of Pink Floyd’s “Interstellar Overdrive” plays behind some arty nightclub scenes, while Chris Farlowe’s rendition of the Rolling Stones’ “Out of Time” accompanies a young woman’s description of London nightlife and the vacuousness of her own existence. In another segment, the Marquess of Kensington (Robert Wace) croons the nostalgic “Changing of the Guard” to shots of Buckingham Palace’s changing of the guard, and recording act Vashti are seen at work in the studio. Sandwiched between are clips of Mick Jagger (discussing revolution), Andrew Loog Oldham (discussing his future) – and Julie Christie, Michael Caine, Lee Marvin, and novelist Edna O’Brien (each discussing sex). The best part is footage of the riot that interrupted the Stones’ 1966 Royal Albert Hall concert.

An account of the short life of genius musician Jimi Hendrix (1942-70), probably the most talented and influential guitarist of the twentieth century: his humble beginnings in Seattle, his time in New York, his rise to fame in swinging London… Live fast, love hard, die young.

In this crazy, chaotic gospel of chance, aspiring filmmakers Chris Stamp and Kit Lambert set out to search for a subject for their underground movie, leading them to discover, mentor, and manage the iconic band known as The Who and create rock 'n' roll history.

An intimate portrait of the legendary bass guitarist for The Who. This documentary includes the last footage ever recorded with John Entwistle, and features interviews with Pete Townshend, as well as other major figures in rock history.

Concert of the Who's first filming of the Rock Opera «Tommy» at London's opera house, the Coliseum, 14 December 1969. At this point, the Who were in full stride, playing behind Tommy and making waves where ever they went. This performance, as rough and raw as it seems, is the Who at their all-time nastiest. Opening with the powerful «Heaven And Hell», the group slays each number — «I Can’t Explain», «Fortune Teller», «Tattoo» — before ascending the mountain of conceptual copiousness.