Disney+ doc on the “Star Wars” composer.

One of the most reliable elements of the still-evolving Disney+ brand have been fawning celebrity-driven spots masquerading as “documentaries” and offering cheerful, adoring portraits of figures like Jim Henson, Mickey Mouse and the collective profession of Imagineering.

The 105 minutes of Laurent Bouzereau Music by John WilliamsPremiering at AFI Fest ahead of its debut on Disney+ on November 1, it is the most creatively successful film of its genre. Especially in the first hour, it's a richly satisfying tribute to an unsurpassed cinematic legend who, one could easily argue, has become even more beloved than the iconic directors with whom he collaborated or the movie stars whose legends helped make the its themes and ideas.

There is no doubt that invoking the name “John Williams” produces a more immediately visceral Pavlovian response than the response to “Steven Spielberg” or “Tom Hanks.” And even more varied! Bouzereau is able to take advantage of this psychological digging, knowing that any room with a dozen viewers could make a dozen different associations instantly with any mention of Williams' name – from thoughts of Superman or E.T. taking flight to the underwater rumble of a shark approaching. to the Yahrzeit orchestral candle of Itzhak Perlman's plaintive violin solos to the wonder induced by a first encounter with a resurrected dinosaur or an alien spaceship.

Without always digging as deeply as the nerdiest cinephiles would like, Music by John Williams honors the breadth of Williams' impact and legacy, pushing every emotional button for an experience that will produce tears, edification, and a compulsive desire to immediately seek out 25 different characteristics of Williams. Many of which, not surprisingly, are available on Disney+.

Bouzereau, whose introspective Hollywood documentaries on Hollywood have included major films such as the Emmy-winning one Five returned and glorified promotions like those of Disney+ Timeless heroes: Indiana Jones and Harrison Fordis able to leverage his exhaustive resume for flawless access here. Would Steven Spielberg have felt so comfortable dating a director who hadn't made countless films with him behind the scenes over the years? It's impossible to know for sure, but the best parts here show Williams and Spielberg literally standing around chatting about their collaborations.

Those sequences, as well as footage of a seemingly exhaustive filmed retrospective panel featuring Spielberg and Williams, make a compelling case that this could have been an even simpler film than Bouzereau's already straightforward approach made it. Put Spielberg and Williams or Lucas and Williams together in a room, give them a snippet of music to discuss, take two steps back and let the magic flow. To Bouzereau's credit, that's a lot of what he does.

In addition to Spielberg and Lucas, Bouzereau has assembled an intimidating list of Williams' cinematic collaborators, including JJ Abrams, Chris Columbus, Ron Howard, Kathleen Kennedy and Frank Marshall, whose relationship with the master dates back to his childhood. The lineup of fellow composers and musicians is at least as impressive, from peers like Alan Silvestri and Thomas Newman to some of the most recognizable classical artists – Perlman, Yo-Yo Ma, Emanuel Ax, Anna-Sophie Mutter – and even Chris Martin of Coldplay and Branford Marsalis, whose dizzying appreciation for jazz bona fides Star Wars the cellar band is contagious.

Music by John WilliamsThe first hour, the most effective one, is chronological. Making expert use of Williams' nostalgia-saturated soundtrack from The FabelmansSpielberg's most autobiographical film, Bouzereau charts a path through Williams' music-driven childhood to his Hollywood debut as a jazz pianist, session musician, orchestrator, and then composer. None of this is exactly revelatory, but it's always helpful to note that Williams had a journey that began with him Gilligan's Island and somehow it stretched to Schindler's List.

Memory-driven reflections on Williams' early collaborations with Spielberg, which led to his work with Lucas, and the magical year Williams composed the scores of Star Wars, Close encounters AND Black Sunday they are methodical. But thanks to the warmth of the narrative and, of course, the countless musical snippets, they never feel dry.

At times the documentary even seems rigorous. Thanks to his extensive access to Spielberg's home movies, Bouzereau is able to give us behind-the-scenes treats like footage from various soundtrack sessions, as well as some precious outtakes like music-free clips from Jaws and unused pieces from Star Wars. But I wish there were more moments like the one where Williams blends music theory and rhetoric to explain why the central five-note theme of Close encounters it's more effective than the pages of additional five-note combinations he's experimented with.

There could be more effective discussion of the process on Williams' part and a greater effort on the part of the assembled musicians to care about what makes Williams special. Instead, we see David Newman giving a rudimentary definition of “leitmotif” and looking almost embarrassed at how imaginative he is becoming. But there is only so much that can be covered in a feature-length documentary.

It's almost inevitable that some pieces of Williams' work will be completely ignored: it matters The Fury AND 1941 among my favorite Williams scores that don't deserve a mention – or that don't deserve short shrift. I spent the recent Paris Olympics thinking, not for the first time, about how Williams' Olympic fanfare is one of his most essential compositions. Here, however, he is introduced as first among equals in a “Here's a Lot of Other Things Williams Wrote For” segment.

Much effort has been made to sustain a long-settled argument about Williams's essential position as the interdisciplinary titan of orchestral music in America, when it has been perhaps 30 years since even the biggest snob would have argued that John Williams was nothing other than a advantage for the classical music panorama of this country. Williams' classical work is fully acknowledged, though I would have liked more commentary from the likes of Perlman and Ma on the different versions of him they've worked with over the years, or from Marsalis on the evidence of Williams' early jazz work. on subsequent scores as Catch me if you can. If the first hour is more of a point-by-point analysis, the final 45 minutes are a more nebulous celebration, and I'll declare a preference for the former.

With the film's focus on Williams the artist – at 92, he's still composing and conducting at a rate that defies reason – Williams the man is a bit of an afterthought. There are some sad anecdotes about the death of his first wife and some funny notes about the importance of golf in his current relationship with his daughter, but Bouzereau and Williams believe that's not what you're looking for.

You will come away from Music by John Williams feeling that Williams has been properly celebrated and that, if further celebrations are needed, they can be done via streaming Jaws, Lincoln, Saving Private Ryan AND Sugarland Express in a glorious and melodic evening.