New on DVD

The seriousness with which the Rolling Stones still take their claim that they are "the world's greatest rock 'n' roll band" is undoubtedly the biggest question posed by this behind-the-scenes documentary by that greatest of rock show documentarians, Martin Scorsese. Other questions--Why them? Why now? Why him?--arise throughout but are answered in the film's kinetic course. Why them: They remain Mick, Keith, Charlie, Ronnie and the other 37 people who play behind them onstage; the best of the songs ("Loving Cup," "Sympathy for the Devil," the title track and many other great ones) are indisputably among the best music of the 20th century. Why now: Because it's not the 20th century anymore, to see these geezers (in the British and American senses of the word) continue to move -- and in Mick's case -- to never stop moving -- is inherently fascinating, even if they look quite bizarre and at times (Keith) unpleasant. Why him: Scorsese approaches rock as the consummate fan/outsider given unlimited access, though the conceit of this film is that the access is limited by the band's fundamental slipperiness. So we see him fume and plan. And then we see the results and I guess the best one can say, cameos by Jack White, Christina Aguilera, Bill and Hillary Clinton (!) and others notwithstanding (or withstanding), is that at least you didn't have to pay $200 for a seat. DVD bonus features are similarly slick (more songs, more behind-the-scenes stuff), but not essential unless you're still a Stones completist, in which case you're probably exhausted by now.

Director Grant Gee is best known for his stunning Radiohead tour documentary "Meeting People Is Easy," one of the best deconstructions of the rock star myth ever committed to film and tape. Given his mastery of the alienation end of the British rock spectrum, it stands to reason that he would turn his attention now to Joy Division, one of the most alienated bands in the history of popular music, but one whose songs of emotional displacement echo not only in the ears of its fans, but also in their hearts, nearly 30 years later.

Exploring the same autobiographical corners as "Control" (Anton Corbijn's biopic of singer Ian Curtis) did earlier this year, Gee expands the color palette and draws on the memories of Curtis' band mates, Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook and Stephen Morris, who continued making music as New Order after Curtis committed suicide in 1980 on the eve of Joy Division's first American tour. The survivors' reminiscences -- and those of their former manager, label owner and girlfriend -- along with a heroic array of early photos, live footage and music fragments, don't so much illuminate the band's story, which is already legendary, as sanctify it, matching pictures to words and sounds in the most authoritative and evocative way imaginable. If you're a fan, this masterful documentary is essential. But even if you're just interested in music, or film, or modern pop culture history, it's well worth seeking out.

Though no one who remembers his emergence in the early '90s -- with the possible exceptions of himself and Dr. Dre -- would have thought it at the time, Snoop Dogg has become not just a superstar (anyone could've seen that), not just a major hip-hop icon (ditto), not just a survivor (some people are just lucky that way), but a legitimate entertainment institution. Just about anything you can say about Snoop -- he's lovable, he's a criminal, he's funny, he's pathetic, he's great, he's over, he's a pimp, he's a ho ­-- has been said, again and again, by thousands and even millions of people, yet he endures. One thing you don't hear a lot of people say is that Snoop is a super-engaging live performer. That's sure to change with the release of this DVD, which captures a 2005 appearance in Brussels (just a stone's throw from Amsterdam, really), and a couple of bonus tracks from Jamaica in 2001.

Running through the set list, which is basically nothing but gems, including "Murder Was the Case," "Tha Shaznit," "Deep Cover: 'G' Thang," "Snoop's Upside Ya Head," "Lodi Dodi," "Gin and Juice" and the title megahit, plus a guest appearance by the Game on "Lay Low," the star works hard to make what he does look easy. He strolls the stage, matching his laconic verbal delivery (amped up a couple notches for the live audience, but still recognizably chill) with a rambling physical ease. He looks like what he is: The Dean Martin of rap.

Unofficial documentaries about musicians usually mean two things: (1) the musicians in question don't appear in the film because the production is too low-rent, and (2) neither does their music, because the producers can't afford it. Well, neither of these conditions apply to "Raw Spice," despite the fact that it is a little low-rent. Although it's true that neither Posh, nor Ginger, nor Scary, nor Sporty, nor Baby participates in this not-quite-feature-length examination of the Spice Girls' rise to international music chart and pop-culture dominance, they left such a trail of interviews, press conferences, camera ops, ribbon cuttings, advertisements and live appearances in their original wake that the filmmakers need only cut them together to tell -- if not the story, then certainly a story -- about how global fame is manufactured.

The Spice Girls arrived in 1996, fully formed, though the documentary spends some time on their prehistory as well. With rampant sex appeal, slogans, catchy music and an instantly memorable name-brand hook, they were a pop group whose only goal was world domination. For the next few years, they achieved that goal with the help of good videos, good producers, an adoring public and a compliant media. But what "Raw Spice" reminds us is that they also knew how to stay on message. Interview after interview finds the girls extolling Girl Power even though they're plainly sex objects, group unity even as they vie for individual dominance, their love of music even though they barely participate in their own singles, the challenges of being in the media even as they run screaming for any spotlight they can find and so on. Then you realize that that they, not Madonna, were ground zero for today's pop scene of oversexed young girls and music that doesn't quite matter. Welcome (back) to Spice World.