For rockin' retirees, age is just a number in 'Young at Heart'

''I FEEEEL goooood" they sing and, obviously they mean it.

James Brown may have been the hardest-working man in show business, but these are the longest living. Rocking out, the Young @ Heart Chorus proves that the recent concert flick starring Mick and Keith is not the only example of mature folks who can shake their booty.

British documentarian Stephen Walker bases his film "Young @ Heart" on a 24-member chorus at a Northampton, Mass., assisted-living facility. No Buddy Holly or Elvis oldies for them!

They specialize in things like the Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated" or Talking Heads' "Road to Nowhere." Sonic Youth. Coldplay. The Flaming Lips. Allen Toussaint. David Bowie.

You can't say you've seen everything until you see, and hear, Eileen, age 92, belt out The Clash's "Should I Stay or Should I Go." Her backup chorus, average age 80, supplies the hand-clapping, gyrating and harmony duties.

I know you. You're saying, "Sounds cute and sentimental, but I'm not paying money to see that." You've got a point. It does sound more like a TV documentary. But, drat it, people this "real" are difficult to find on any screen. If you want to fight about it, go ahead and listen to endless talk about "Indiana Jones," but there is a case to be made for more simple, direct entertainment with "Young @ Heart."

We'll admit, though, that it's in danger at every turn of becoming the dreaded S word, "sweet." But only the most prevalent bias of our time, ageism, could turn you against this likable outing. That's the ism no one talks about but everyone expresses daily toward people who are smarter than we are because they've lived longer, know more and occasionally, sometimes, maybe, are grouchy about it. It's a trade-off, but, obviously, no one wants to trade places with the people in the chorus. Still, they're pretty cool.

Take, for example, Fred Knittle. He's hooked up to an oxygen tank and was given two years to live 2-1/2 years ago. When he sings the Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive," he really means it.

A running joke is the chorus' persistent rehearsals to try to master Allen Toussaint's "Yes We Can Can." It repeats the word "can" 71 times. That's a bit much even for Barack Obama.

When the chorus finally gets it, for the film's finale, we're ready to cheer.

Sonic Youth's "Schizophrenia" is a disturbing lament. Coldplay's "Fix You" is not easy.

The "plot" chronicles the six-week preparation for their annual concert. Their conductor is tough. Bob Cilman, at 54, is a mere baby to them, but he cuts them no slack if they think the songs are more screeching than melodic. Show time is professional time and, besides, the old folks are rockers, down deep.

Cilman is the film's hero in that he is neither patronizing nor demeaning. He demands they get it right. He won't coddle them.

But the concept is not merely a novelty. It, universally, is a message that bridges can be crossed, no matter which direction. There is the constant danger of it becoming "cute" or "sentimental," but it avoids the trap, just barely.

It is true that, too predictably, two members of the chorus die before the performance and, just as predictably, there's the one member who keeps blanking out in the middle of one number.

But this documentary makes it clear that things happen at the time they're meant to happen and we best keep marching to the beat, be it rock or three-quarter time. Here's the message that it's much better to burn out than to fade away.

In the end, they get their backs up when director Cilman threatens to cancel "Yes We Can Can" if they don't get it right soon. For the performance of their show, called "Alive and Well," before a group of prisoners, they pull out all the stops.

Yes they can can.

And, in the process, they remind us that so can we.

Mal Vincent, (757) 446-2347, mal.vincent@pilotonline.com