This talking heads documentary, now streaming on Disney+, often feels more like hagiography than biography. I suspect that is part of the challenge of documenting film composer John Williams. He is simply too prolific, too talented, and straight-up too nice to give space for much criticism. Director Laurent Bouzereau essentially has two choices: celebrate Hollywood’s greatest composer, or spend two hours deconstructing the innate derivation of commercial film scores. A few minutes are dedicated to superficially discussing the latter; I firmly believe the Disney+ audience will be happier with the former.

Williams himself appears throughout the film, giving his own account of his childhood, early career, and ascent to becoming Hollywood’s pre-eminent composer of orchestral scores. Space is dedicated to his entire journey, which serves to make his sudden fame via Jaws (1975) and Star Wars (1977) are the more understandable. It is also reasonable that the bulk of the film’s focus would be applied to his working relationship with director Steven Spielberg, which comprises more than 25 feature films and some American cinema’s most famous musical compositions.

Most of the interview subjects are the ones audiences would expect, including long-term collaborators like Spielberg and George Lucas, producers Kathleen Kennedy and Frank Marshall, and fellow musicians including Yo Yo Ma, Isaac Stern, and Thomas Newman. A few subjects are more surprising, and one could arguably question their relevance, such as Coldplay lead singer Chris Martin and writer/producer Seth McFarlane. To their credit, they do find interesting things to say.

Personally I found the documentary most interesting when engaged in process stories: breaking down and explaining issues of inspiration, composition, and technique. One brief scene sees Williams showing off the enormous number of potential five-note sequences he developed for Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). His rationale for how they were developed, and how he ultimately selected the final sequence, is fascinating stuff. It reflect just how much thought and preparation went into his work.

Unfortunately while such scenes offer great value, a little too much time is spent enthusing on how famous Williams’ music is, and how effective it has been. It damages the overall production, leaving it feel a little like a special feature for bluray and DVD rather than an insightful work in its own right. What revelations it presents are valuable and greatly appreciated. Celebrations of his musical talent feel unnecessary. Discussion of his relationship to classical and early Hollywood music – to Holst, or Prokofiev, or Korngold, for example – feel a hugely important part of any analysis of Williams’ ouevre. While it is briefly name-checked, the lack of any serious debate of his inspirations and sources – and his debt to them – feels somewhat dishonest.