Pink Floyd at Pompeii – MCMLXXII

Here the fellows seem to be getting along reasonably well. And director Maben’s frequent close-up views of guitarist David Gilmour’s cosmic-blues fretwork will make axe wonks happy, especially given the dimensions of the screen.

One for the fans, perhaps, and a vivid Gradiva-esque glimpse of the past.

Pink Floyd At Pompeii: MCMLXXII captures a moment that’s as bygone as the good citizens of Pompeii themselves.

Maybe because or in spite of this near psychedelic experience, Floyd at Pompeii has become my favourite concert film of all time. Maybe it's because the lack of an audience means you don't feel like you're having a second hand experience. Maybe it's because you're getting to see a legendary band playing sometimes genuinely transcendent music in a strange environment.

The result is that this film isn’t necessarily for the Pink Floyd newbie, as they’ll be hopelessly confused as to who is who — however, they may still be able to take in the incredible music. And Pink Floyd at Pompeii captures a Golden Age just beginning — a whole lot of spectacular music was soon to come from Waters, Gilmour, Wright, and Mason. You could see it coming, clear as an eruption from the grounds of Pompeii.

It's kind of neat to see how some of these sounds were produced, but beyond that, a lot of trippy blather, guitar geekdom and talk of oysters. [21 Dec 2003, p.5]

It is a glimpse into a vanished era, of self-indulgence mixed with wide-eyed experimentation, to watch ''A Saucerful of Secrets'' - with the band banging wildly at its instruments above Nick Mason's drumbeat - as musicians and director take everything very, very seriously. [13 May 1984, p.32]