I want to talk about an experience I had last night. I didn’t just go to the movies. As I noted in my recent review, it felt more like a “pilgrimage.” The film was David Gilmour’s Live at the Circus Maximus, and it felt like a temporal echo—a chance to relive a legendary performance on a scale so grand it felt like you were breathing the very air of that historic night.

Having seen this tour live at the Hollywood Bowl last year (twice, in fact!), this was deeply personal for me. Seeing this film was like revisiting a cherished memory, but this time with a new, omniscient perspective.

The Silence of a Legend The film doesn’t start with a big musical crash. Instead, it opens with a powerful, knowing close-up of David Gilmour before a single note is played. His presence simply fills the screen. It was an unspoken declaration: “I am David Gilmour, and I am a… legend.”

The whole theater erupted in applause and cheers at that moment. We were all there because we already knew and agreed with that statement.

The Circus Maximus as a Character From the first frame, you understand exactly why Gilmour chose this venue. The Circus Maximus isn’t just a stage; it’s a character in the performance. The film utilizes breathtaking drone shots, gliding over hallowed ground where chariots once thundered.

Seeing that ancient space bathed in the ethereal glow of stage lights created a stunning juxtaposition of the eternal and the immediate. As I wrote in my review, “The ghosts of history feel like they’re listening alongside us.”

A Sermon in Six Strings The musical journey was nothing short of spiritual.

“5 A.M.”: The show opens with sublime, atmospheric grace, serving as a “dreamlike portal” into the concert.

“Wish You Were Here”: This was the moment the venue became a “global campfire,” with thousands of voices singing that heartfelt plea back at the stage.

“High Hopes”: The tolling bell echoing across the ruins was incredibly poignant—a message of longing that feels different in a place that has witnessed the rise and fall of empires.

“Sorrow”: This was the absolute peak for me. That earth-shattering opening guitar riff felt like a “monolithic presence.” Hearing it echo through a venue that has witnessed millennia of human drama was a raw, powerful triumph.

The night concluded with “Comfortably Numb.” As the mirrorball fractured light across the Roman night, I actually teared up. The final solo was a “sermon in six strings”—agonizingly beautiful and breathtakingly powerful.

The Verdict The IMAX experience cannot fully replicate the visceral, electric energy of being physically present at a concert. However, it offers something else that is precious: intimacy. It is a front-row seat, a backstage pass, and a god’s-eye view all at once.

As the final notes faded, my overwhelming feeling was one of deep gratitude. This film is a beautifully crafted testament to an artist still at the peak of his powers, creating timeless music in a timeless city.

It wasn’t just a movie. It was magic.