Shane Meadows’ documentary on The Stone Roses’ recent resurrection just wants to be adored.

“I have no desire to desecrate the grave of seminal Manchester pop group The Stone Roses”, so wrote John Squire on 12thof March 2009. A statement that, although scrawled on metal as part of a series of artworks, evidently wasn’t made of stone. 2012 saw their second (or perhaps third?) coming as they set off on a European tour culminating in two, massive, Spike Island mk. 2 gigs in Manchester’s Heaton Park.   

This loving rock-doc has the fans at its heart and apparently the most devoted fan of all is Meadows himself, who occasionally puts himself in front of the camera here to give an illuminating commentary on his own relationship with the band. He’s looked at the music industry before, with the spoofish mockumentary Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee, but, with no concert movie experience, he admits to finding this film a challenging new one. Happily, this makes for a unique dynamic, full of unvarnished passion and wide-eyed reverence. And, to an extent, the love spreads.

If you’re a Stone Roses fan this is what the world’s been waiting for. For those outside the fold, the waterfall of mostly middle-aged Mancunian tears that don’t stop flowing throughout may not be something you join in with but could become something you understand. This film shows why The Stone Roses are in that canon with The Beatles, The Stones, The Sex Pistols and The Smiths that define generations and inspire lifelong dedication by soundtracking people’s formative years.

It’s a partially successful attempt at showing that nebulous and sacred spirit that exists somewhere in The Stone Roses’ legend. A tenderly shot monochrome montage of one of the band’s first post-reformation rehearsals teases out some of their special chemistry but not enough. Those warm grins they share across the rehearsal room are one thing but by dropping the camera when the band have a bust-up in Amsterdam, Meadows, in doing the honourable thing, sacrifices a chance to unearth more about the personalities involved.

Hearing The Roses’ brand of baggy psychedelia and punk arrogance is unarguably the best part. Therefore it’s a little disappointing that we get only Fool’s Gold (albeit a 15 minute version) from the Heaton Park gig, too much time being taken up with a charming but protracted segment of fans queuing for tickets.

Reni bangs the drums with an easy mastery, Ian Brown projects a god complex that is made to seem relatively justifiable, Mani bounces around with infectious enthusiasm and John Squire hides behind his fringe but it’s the fans who really take centre stage. The Stone Roses: Made of Stone is Shane Meadows’ own ten-story love song.