The film “Rock Around the Clock” debuted 67 years ago, which means that more than three generations since have thrown a hero up the pop charts, to steal a line from Paul Simon. In those early years, film was seen as a grown-up destination for those pop heroes; Elvis wanted to use his fame to vault into movies, and the Beatles were quick to jump on the medium, too, starring in three films between 1964 and 1967.

But what about the music? Did it get treated, respectfully and authentically, as the centerpiece in any of these movies? 

There certainly have been documentaries that have captured the power of live rock music. “The Last Waltz” and “Stop Making Sense” come to mind. But what about original feature films? Which ones treat rock music as a subject worthy of carrying a story?

We’ve seen a couple of films in recent years inspired by 1970s rock stars—"Rocket Man” (2019) and “Bohemian Rhapsody” (2018). Both are worth seeing.

“Rocket Man,” which I saw in a theater, treats the Elton John-Bernie Taupin canon as worthy of carrying a musical in the traditional sense, with the songs standing in for emotions and plot turns. But as great as the songs are, and as dramatically as they are presented, it’s the John-Taupin relationship that steals the show. It’s a love story, really, about a gay man and a straight man, whose creativity and friendship withstand incredible stresses.

“Bohemian Rhapsody” gives us glimpses of the commitment to a muse that must been heeded—and the risks that must be taken—to reach heights like the song of the film’s title. But ultimately, it’s a movie about Freddie Mercury, and it leans toward hagiography.

Another film that wonderfully conveys the commitment that music can demand of its lovers is “High Fidelity,” but I didn’t include it because the music nerds at its center are portrayed as immature and closed off to grown-up relationships because of their devotion to it.

But there are films set apart because they understand what it is to… well, let’s let a character from one of those movies say it: “They don’t even know what it is to be a fan. Y’know? To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.”

So here is my list of ten movies that not only get what it is to love a silly little piece of music, or some band, but actually treat the music as a sort of love interest.

#10: Juliette Naked (2018): A love triangle emerges when a seemingly burned out critical rock darling (Ethan Hawke) meets a super fan (Chris O’Dowd) and ends up falling for the fan’s girlfriend (Rose Byrne). The title refers to a leaked version of the star’s classic album, “Juliette” (“Naked,” because it’s the original, stripped-down version of the songs).

The film comes so close to striking gold, but poor timing and character development divert its aim. The climactic scene comes when the Hawke character reveals why he is ambivalent about his masterpiece, but it falls too late in the narrative arc. And super fan O’Dowd is presented as too much of an awkward nerd, undercutting what we want to see as pure love of the music.

Still, Hawke singing songs like the Kinks’ “Waterloo Sunset,” and the personal tragedy embedded in the “Juliette” record pluck the heart strings of anyone who’s fallen deeply under the spell of an album.

#9: This is Spinal Tap (1984): Yes, it’s a “mockumentary” about a fading, witless band, but the songs are good, and while the guys seem to have logged too much sex and drugs, they still really like their rock ‘n roll.

You see it in a sound check, as they fool around with one of their early ‘60s hits. You see it when they try to reinvent themselves with a free form “jazz odyssey.” And you see it when former lead guitarist Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest) is drawn onto the stage by the music, and by his beckoning, estranged musical partner David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean).

The rock ‘n roll lifestyle is sent up so deliciously, but, if I’m being honest, there’s something appealing about life on the road as it’s presented here.

An honorable mention goes to another Christopher Guest music satire, “A Mighty Wind” (2003), which pokes fun at the folk music revival of the early ‘60s, though it’s a much more affectionate portrayal than Spinal Tap.

Another honorable mention in the genre goes to The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash (1978), a band-specific mocking, this time of the Beatles, by Eric Idle (Monty Python) and Neil Innes (Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band). Paul Simon, Mick Jagger, and even George Harrison make appearances.

#8: Pirate Radio (2009): Rock music needed a co-conspirator to break on through the walls of mainstream decency and decorum, and it found it in radio. This overlooked gem of a film tells the story of a radio station that broadcast—illegally—from a ship off the coast of England, sending out the tunes that would rattle the windows of baby boomer bedrooms and make the BBC sniff in disapproval.

The music is very much the heart throb here, and the wacky and weird DJs are its suitors. We see the craziness of the ship-board scene through the eyes of a young man, sent there as a kind of punishment.

The characters and plot almost lurch overboard at moments, but if you’re like me, you’ll smile throughout.

#7: The Commitments (1991): If an American film showed the characters in a band on a bus on their way home from a gig, singing one of their songs, you’d likely—and justifiably—roll your eyes. But “The Commitments” depicts an Irish band, and, well, the Irish do break into song like that, even on buses.

The soundtrack from this film—covers of soul classics by the fictional band—is more fun than that of the “Blues Brothers” (another possible entry on this list), and the singers have better pipes.

The magic comes when non-musician Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins) puts together a killer band from the rough and rowdy characters from his neighborhood. (One of the funniest lines comes when Jimmy’s father deflects Jimmy’s pride in what he’s assembled, saying, “Is this the band then? Betcha U2 are shittin' themselves.”)

Jimmy’s pitch to his band gives a taste of the humor here:

“Do you not get it, lads? The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once, say it loud: ‘I'm black and I'm proud.’”

It’s pure joy when the band hits their stride in the pubs. But it’s an oh-so-fragile joy, as the band self-destructs in beautiful chaos.

 #6: “Blinded by the Light” (2019): This film may fall higher or lower on a list, depending on how you feel about Bruce Springsteen. I was 16 years old growing up in suburban New York when “Born to Run” hit the radio, so I was a sucker for this one.

The story is set in declining industrial England at a time when Bruce is not considered cool. And his music would seem to have little power to worm its way into the head of a teen boy whose parents are Pakistani immigrants, trying to maintain their culture while also trying to survive hard times.

But worm inward it does. The teen, Javed (Viveik Kalra), is an aspiring writer, and he sees in Springsteen’s lyrics the power to express deep impulses and emotions, even as their adult meaning remains elusive.

If I watched the scene a hundred times in which Javed sings along to “Thunder Road” playing on his Walkman, directing the words at a girl he loves, tears would still come to my eyes.

And it’s a true story. Over the credits, we see the real Javed in photos with the Boss over the years.

#5: “School of Rock” (2003): I saw this when it was first released, and enjoyed it, and then saw it again recently. It’s better than I remembered.

Jack Black does his hyperactive slacker bit as well as he ever does, scamming his way into a private school as a long-term substitute teacher, but a real sweetness emerges as he engages the privileged, if uptight kids with rock music.

In fact, Black becomes that cool middle school music teacher who shared his CDs with you, who made you feel cool, too, and who subtly built your confidence in your ability to be creative. He’s the kind of teacher who, you realize years later, was laying down breadcrumbs (and killer guitar riffs) to lead you toward achievement.

The bits where Black bounces from rock genre to rock genre, giving affectionate thumbnail sketches of each, is a beautiful thing.

#4: “Once” (2007): You may have wondered if the pickup line, “Hey, I bet we would make beautiful music together” ever worked. This Irish film answers the question in a complicated, nuanced way.

Coincidence brings together an Irish busker and a Czech immigrant. He’s muddling along with his music, she has her hands full trying to keep her family afloat. But both have a pure love for music, and when they harmonize on one of his songs at a music store piano, we see they also have talent.

They join for a recording session, though the sense that this is a fleeting partnership hangs heavy over it. The scene that brings me to tears is when the recording engineer, who’s charging by the hour, tells the musicians he’s staying put for free as they finish their songs. You’ll understand why when you hear the results.

Though their musical collaboration is greater than the sum of their parts, romance is their missing chord. The lack of a happy ending makes the music seem more remarkable for having been achieved.

Like that go-to song to bask your heartache in, it’s a beautifully sad film.

#3: Yesterday (2019): I would gladly give a toe or two to have written this movie. Its premise is brilliant—what if the Beatles never existed? Or if you were the only one who knew their songs?

About halfway in, you begin to wonder if that premise is enough to keep the ample offering of sweetness and joy aloft, and then the story throws a couple of curveballs at you. Both plot twists convey an emotional ballast you didn’t suspect was there.

The final act asks and answers an important ethical question about the responsibility of sharing art. And it answers the unspoken question of the premise—if the Beatles never existed, we, and all the music that followed would be poorer for it.

#2: “That Thing You Do” (1996): Here’s a little-known fact: Tom Hanks inducted the Dave Clark Five into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. Another little-known fact: Hanks wrote, directed, and acts in this near-perfect film that absorbs you into a near-perfect pop song, just as the Dave Clark Five’s “Bits and Pieces” absorbed the young Hanks.

“That Thing You Do” is modest in aim, but it delivers completely. It’s like the first pop song that steals your heart, the one that had you squeal in joy each time it came on the radio. It conjurs those innocent years between “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Sympathy for the Devil.”

The story arc is predictable, but it’s a pleasurable ride. A mid-1960s teen band captures lightning in a bottle, thanks to its drummer doubling the tempo of one of its songs while performing at a dance. Something similar happened when the Rolling Stones recorded “Satisfaction,” but there’s nothing Stones-like in these fresh-faced kids from western Pennsylvania.

Egos swell, friendships are strained, romances fade. These one-hit wonders—who call themselves The Oneders, which everyone mispronounces as the “Oh-NEE-Ders”—have a soft landing when it all fizzles out, but our drummer hero steps into adulthood and grows as a musician.

#1: Almost Famous (2000): Cameron Crowe and I are about the same age. But while I was scrawling Pink Floyd and Elton John lyrics onto my 10th-grade geometry class desk, Crowe was riding in limos with Robert Plant and Roger Daltry, interviewing them for stories that appeared in Rolling Stone and Creem.

In a Rolling Stone interview that coincided with the film’s release, Crowe confirmed that most of “Almost Famous” hews very closely to his own experiences. To those who have seen it—yes, even the “deflowering” scene.

Stillwater, the fictional mid-level band trying to make it to the next level, is based on his experiences covering the Eagles and Led Zeppelin. Joining the band for a road trip, young William (the Crowe character, played brilliantly by Patrick Fugit) desperately wants to get his story, while simultaneously holding off his worried mother (Frances McDormand) and wrestling with his growing love for the groupie girlfriend Penny Lane (Kate Hudson) who’s with the lead guitar player (Billy Cruddup, looking very much like Glenn Frey).

The look, sound, and feel of the early ‘70s is uncannily captured, and no wonder: Peter Frampton was a consultant. The soundtrack cost three times what a typical film would require, but the soundscape that washes over the traveling circus is pitch perfect.

Despite its setting, “Almost Famous” avoids nostalgia and is instead more of a period piece. The era is rich for satire, but why satirize your teen years? It was a golden era for music, and Crowe lets the music make that case. Yes, there are some winks at the audience, such as when a manager candidate (Jimmy Fallon) tells the band that like Mick Jagger, they won’t want to be shaking their behinds on stage when they’re 50. And there are plenty of belly laughs, but not at the expense of the characters.

The scene at the heart of the film is when Cruddup’s character rejoins the band on the bus after a showdown with lead singer Jeff Bebe (Jason Lee). You could cut the tension with a knife as they roll down the road, but when “Tiny Dancer” comes on the radio, the anger melts and the joy of music reigns.

I think it was the day after first seeing “Almost Famous” that I understood its structure—it’s got a guy, girl, guy triangle, but the real love interest is the music itself. Fugit as the teenaged Crowe finally gets his one-on-one interview with guitarist Russell Hammond (Cruddup), and asks, “What do you love about music?”

Hammond replies: “To begin with? Everything!”

Tom Groening edits The Working Waterfront and Island Journal publications for the Rockland, Maine-based Island Institute.