Oh, to have been there – Thanksgiving Day 1976, Winterland Auditorium in San Francisco.

That’s where it happened. That’s where the gods gathered, where the music was played and where the legend was born.

The Band’s final concert wasn’t just a concert – it was a celebration. It was a moment to be tasted, savored and saved.

Robbie Robertson and the boys had been on the road for 16 years in various modes and forms, backing up Ronnie Hawkins and then Bob Dylan, before conquering the world on their own.

When the end finally came, it came in a big way. Neil Young, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, Muddy Waters, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell are just a few of the stars in front of the camera.

Martin Scorsese sat on the other side of the lens, along with three Academy Award-winning cinematographers.

When you’re documenting a live event, you can plan, ponder and prepare. Once the opening number takes off, all you can do is sit back and hope for the best.

Something spectacular happened that night. The planets aligned, the oceans parted, and pure musical joy poured from the heavens.

As The Band emerges on stage, the guys look spectacular – enormous, youthful and content. They play with fury, with eyes closed and hearts open – emotion pouring up and out.

They have smiles after every song, winks and crack jokes in every interview, and boy do they know how to dress, so cool.

The bar is raised with each song. Before long you’re not sure if you want anyone else to come out onstage and tinker with this flawless equation.

Then come the guest performers. Things get even better.

Neil Young says it’s one of the great joys of his life to be there, and you can tell he means it.

Clapton rips through a guitar duel with Robertson, who manages to hang right with Clapton – splintered blues licks and all.

Van Morrison arrives with his own glorious version of soul. Even though he’s a little chubby at this point, it doesn’t stop him from running around the stage and doing the best rock star high kicks ever.

On and on, the moments are so sweet and plentiful.

Interspersed between the performances are interviews between Scorsese and The Band, roughly documenting their story, their trip.

Each member, wildly different from the next, is cut from a different cloth, but they share a common respect.

A shared love ties them together. Their stories are at turns hilarious, heartwarming and nostalgic.

When asked about women on the road, pianist Richard Manuel promptly replies, “I love ’em. That’s probably why we’ve been on the road so long.”

The cinematography is fantastic – unobtrusive, naturalistic and anything but flashy. The cameras sit back and soak things up, letting the performers bob and weave freely.

A few of the songs, including “The Weight,” were shot on a soundstage, providing a great opportunity for inventive shots. As the camera swoops past drummer Levon Helm as he’s finishing the first verse, it brings tears.

The Last Waltz is a fantastic concert film, but it’s more than that.

Like The Band’s music, it’s set apart from time. It’s in a world of it’s own.

It’s a moment where everything is right, everything is loud, and everything is beautiful.

The Band was voices, instruments and friends merging together, becoming bigger and more important than they ever could have been on their own.

This is the reason for music, this is what we all want, and for a moment, we had it.