Even at the age of 85, you can still, for the price of a ticket, see and hear Buddy Guy play his ass off. He’s got dates booked this year through September. It’s a show that will be much louder than you anticipate – a lot of Rock and Roll showmanship and a vibe that would be at home (and has been) in a football stadium. And yet, pure Blues in every way.

What you cannot do, for any price, is listen to the Blues legend tell stories in an intimate, quiet setting.

Until now.

In the new film, The Torch, Buddy Guy is, by turns, contemplative, nostalgic, and naughty. You’ll hear a barrage of “motherfuckers” and you’ll see his eyes tear up, his voice crack, as he speaks tenderly of his mother or many, many others who have passed through his amazing life. And you’ll never be far from a chuckle.

Surely, he’s told these stories for decades, and yet to see him in close-up, taking his time with his tales – you feel like he’s telling them just to you. For the first time.

He’s been described as the last man standing and that is literally true, if you’re talking about his mentors and peers from back in the day in Chicago. From Lightning Hopkins and Howlin’ Wolf to B.B. King, and dozens of big names in between, Guy has played with them all – played guitar, played cards, played around.

His most well-known musical connection was with Muddy Waters, with whom he played and from whom he learned about life and even business, to some extent.

In other words, the torch was passed to Buddy Guy from the tip top. Now, it is he who will pass the torch to ensure that the music and the life lessons continue long after he’s gone from this earth.

Which brings us to the other subject of the film: Twenty-two year old guitar phenom Quinn Sullivan, who has been mentored by Guy since he was a young kid. I was briefly worried that the film would spend too much time on Sullivan, not because he isn’t an amazing musician. Indeed, you’ll see him light up a Strat with an intense virtuosity that will leave your jaw on the floor. But because, in my mind, he does not have, and never will, the receipts for a life of dues paid like that of his hero.

Besides his musical abilities, there isn’t yet enough of a life lived to be the subject of a documentary. I mean, Buddy was born in 1936 to a sharecropper’s family and “raised on a plantation near the small town of Lettsworth, located some 140 miles northwest of New Orleans. He was just seven years old when he fashioned his first makeshift “guitar”—a two-string contraption attached to a piece of wood and secured with his mother’s hairpins.”

Now that’s a story.

Fortunately, director Jim Farrell recognizes this and we mostly see Sullivan at Guy’s knee, nodding in affirmation. He is respectful and seems to be a good kid. But as former kid shredder Joe Bonamassa, who also appears in interviews in the film, points out – once you get past the “prodigy” phase of your story, you’re just an adult. Just a guy. At least for now.

I firmly believe that a big problem we have today is our short attention spans. By taking his time in the making of the film – literally on the road with Guy and Sullivan and sneaking in backstage interviews bit by bit along the way, Farrell has also let his subject breathe, tell the story at his own pace.

And this also extends to the interview subjects: Carlos Santana tells a story about Guy that goes on for much longer than most would allow, and it’s worth every second. Other greats weighing in include Derek Trucks, Susan Tedeschi, Jonny Lang. Songwriter and drummer Tom Hambridge is an important part of the film’s narrative as well.  If you don’t know the name, you do know the songs.

 It helps if you’re a Blues fan, but anyone who enjoys a good story, well-told, will find something to delight in The Torch. Now in theaters or watch at home: https://www.thetorchmovie.com/