It’s all in the title: Becoming Led Zeppelin captures the hard rock ’70s band in their gestation period. Before the dark mystique; the stories of legendary parties at the Continental Hyatt House, on Sunset Strip; the overindulgence in groupies, drugs, and trashing hotel rooms; the epic songs, like “Stairway to Heaven” and “Achilles Last Stand,” which swirled with medieval magic; or the castles they occupied (including Jimmy Page’s, which once belonged to occultist Aleister Crowley), they were four bright-eyed lads from the outskirts of London. In the first authorized documentary about the band (if you’re not counting the 1977 concert film The Song Remains the Same, which caught them at their most drugged-out and depleted), Bernard MacMahon directs with unadorned formality ripped out of the Ken Burns playbook. While some might find his approach too conventional, this also gives the movie the breathing room to inhabit the largeness and vibrancy that is Led Zeppelin. Besides, do we need a young hipster filmmaker to gussy up one of the greatest bands of all time? Nah. MacMahon keeps it simple, since Zeppelin is entertaining all on their own.
Co-written and produced by Allison McGourty, Becoming is a joyous, galvanic experience, intercutting between blistering concert footage, archival photos, historical ephemera, and candid interviews with surviving members Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, and John Paul Jones (the filmmakers also include an old interview with drummer John Bonham, who died in 1980 after a drinking binge). Now in their late 70s, except for Page, who is 81, the lads look exceptional — considering that they were in one of the hardest-partying bands of all time.
After the opening montage, which shows footage of a decimated London after the Blitz, you’ll realize that this movie will mostly be curated and controlled by Led Zeppelin. One might be better off viewing it as a lighthearted tour down memory lane rather than as an in-depth, objective profile of the notoriously saturnalian group. If you want the skinny on what rock critic Nick Kent called the “dark stuff,” check out Steven Davis’s unauthorized bio of the band, Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga; Bob Spitz’s 2021 take, called simply Led Zeppelin: The Biography, also offers some juicy material. In Becoming, you can forget about encountering anything salacious or provocative. You won’t find interviews with producers, ex-lovers, or roadies. For rock fans, it’s common knowledge that Page and Plant aren’t just cagey about their days in Zeppelin — they rule with an iron fist. Unlike Keith Richards, who speaks openly about his debauched days in the Rolling Stones with a phlegmy giggle, Page and Plant turn to stone when asked about their, shall we say, more exuberant experiences. Like this film, Zeppelin is a hermetically sealed world, where you either enjoy the meal as prepared or ask for a refund.
Thankfully, MacMahon’s profile of the band is so seamlessly crafted and engaging that you might not miss the dirty details of the band’s personal lives, instead surrendering to the film’s primary subject: the music. With the charisma, flash, and propulsion of a Zeppelin album, Becoming reminds even the most educated fan why Plant, Page, and company were the golden gods of classic rock. From the beginning, their sound was a primordial mishmash of Chuck Berry, Delta blues, and an extra, spicy ingredient that vibrated like a volcanic rumbling from the rubble of blitzed English cities. Like the Rolling Stones, Cream, Black Sabbath, and Jethro Tull, the post-war generation found their answers in the dark chasm of the blues after their country’s recent turmoil.
MacMahon displays a distinct patience, showing the band playing entire songs without cutting away.
Over the course of the film, the band members fondly recount their childhoods, musical influences, and how they became part of one of the biggest bands in history. The fact that they even ended up in the same room is a testament to karmic fate. While guitarist Jimmy Page and bassist John Paul Jones were experienced session musicians who played on classics by Donovan, Petula Clark, and on Shirley Bassey’s “Goldfinger,” singer Robert Plant and drummer John Bonham hopped from band to band following the pub circuit. The minute they all met in a rehearsal space and broke into “Train Kept A-Rollin,’” an old blues song that had been covered by Page’s former band the Yardbirds, their chemistry was undeniable.
In addition to charting the band’s early stages, Becoming also shows how the disparate ingredients coalesced into something magical. Essentially, Zeppelin was composed of two factions: the session-playing virtuosity of Page and Jones and the blue-collar edge of Plant and Bonham. Together, they created a sound that was both intricate and dirty. Realizing he’d struck gold, Jimmy Page housed them in his boathouse (which he was able to afford as a major, in-demand session musician), where they rehearsed tirelessly. Page also booked them on a European tour, including their first television appearance, on a Danish show where the children in the audience plugged their ears while their parents reacted to these long-haired monsters with abject horror. These were early days, where Page apparently booked them wherever he could, appropriate or not.
As the leader of the band, Page not only labored over producing the first album, injecting it with sonic loops and effects, but used it to land a lucrative deal with a major label. “I saw us as an album band,” Page recalls, with his regal demeanor and long gray hair. Or, as he told Atlantic Records’ partner Jerry Wexler before signing the deal, “We’re not doing singles.” Page’s pursuit of complete creative control was nearly unprecedented at the time. The deal resulted in their second album, layered with acoustic guitars, innovative ideas, and hard-driving ballads like “Ramble On.” Ultimately, all that hard work paid off. Though the critics pulverized them (including Rolling Stone’s famous takedown of the first album, on which it referred to Plant’s “unconvincing shouting” and Page’s “unimaginative songs”), audiences devoured everything the band released.
Even with its lack of dramatic flair or controversy, Becoming is an exuberant journey to an exciting time in rock and roll history. And unlike a lot of music docs, which can feel rushed and hijacked by filmmakers who overedit live footage, MacMahon displays a distinct patience, showing the band playing entire songs without cutting away. There’s no doubt that the movie feels a little too orthodox at times; with MacMahon’s basic transitions from talking head to archival footage, and without impulsive, stylistic ingenuity, you might have to remind yourself that you’re watching a film and not another standard doc on Netflix or PBS. Still, we can be grateful that MacMahon lets the music speak for itself, which creates a laid-back atmosphere for the audience to absorb the band’s artistry.
Becoming also runs a little long, at 137 minutes. Toward the end, you can feel the filmmakers struggling to keep this blimp afloat by inserting barely discernible concert footage and shrug-worthy tales, such as the night Zeppelin played while astronauts walked on the moon. With any other band, you might feel a little gypped when it comes to this lack of more dramatic stories (or debauchery), but when it comes to the persisting mystery that is Led Zeppelin, you take what you can get. And if we get only the music, well, that’s not a bad thing. ❖
Chad Byrnes has been a film critic for the L.A. Weekly and the Village Voice for six years. He lives in Los Angeles.