When Bruce Springsteen stands on stage, staring out at the audience, or with his head bowed, and cocks his guitar behind him, that pose is now as iconic as that of the young Abraham Lincoln holding an ax over his shoulder. It’s a mythic image of American nobility. In “ Road Diary: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band ,” we follow Springsteen, in his first concerts since the pandemic, as he reconnects with his fabled band and they rehearse for six days and go out on a tour that will take them from the U.S. to Europe, from 2023 to 2024.

All of this is intercut with grainy footage of Bruce performing in the ’70s and early ’80s. At this point, we’re so accustomed to the older, statelier Bruce that when we see some of the earlier clips, it’s almost shocking to register just how much he moved around onstage. He bopped in a way that was crazy and flamboyant. It’s pointed out in the documentary that the key reason he originally recruited his buddy Steven Van Zandt to be the band’s guitarist was so that he — Bruce — could liberate himself from holding a guitar. That’s how much Bruce, in his heyday, liked to dance.

Bruce doesn’t move with the same agility anymore. However, at 74, he exudes a hard-earned vitality, and the rugged charm of his younger years has matured into a statuesque, weathered appeal. He now bears a resemblance to Robert De Niro with a touch of Ben Affleck; his face, from certain angles, evokes the imagery of a weathered silver dollar. Still, he remains as resolutely alive as ever.

Now that Springsteen and the E Street Band, the musical kindred spirits he has played with for half a century, are in their twilight years, the significance of their endeavors has evolved. They still sound phenomenal — precise, energetic, and full of vibrant rock 'n' roll. There's nothing tired, shaky, or sluggish about the E Street Band; their sound is ageless. Yet the man leading them has always felt compelled to share his own story through song, and this means Bruce now sings in a way that transcends time while also acknowledging its passage. There are moments when the lyrics he sings touch upon the darkness that hovers on the precipice of death.

But only for a short while. What you experience in “Road Diary” is Springsteen's artistic vitality. He performs a number of new songs, but the fact that he's been playing the older ones for such a long time only enhances their layered grandeur. I was struck by this when Bruce unleashes the guitar solo in “Prove It All Night,” a song released in 1978. Back then, attending a Springsteen show, much of the frenzy — the ecstatic shouts of “Bruuuuuce!!!,” the shared joy in the three-hour-plus immersion — centered around the feeling that Springsteen was, essentially, the last of the larger-than-life classic rock stars. His music was right in the mainstream.

Now, when I hear that blistering guitar solo in all its fury, and watch Bruce contorting his face to play it with maximum intensity, it sounds like what it is: a form that has faded from its central position. Yet, the solo seems to be proclaiming that as long as Springsteen can pick up a guitar and make it sound like this , rock ‘n’ roll will endure. This is music that bursts forth beyond the realm of nostalgia.

“Road Diary” commences with Bruce bringing the band back together, and I must say: They are quite a mutual admiration society (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Their approach to refining their sound back to peak performance feels a bit over-the-top. Granted, they haven’t played together for six years. The film's director, Thom Zimny (who co-directed, with Bruce, the intimate 2019 Springsteen performance documentary “Western Stars” ), interviews each member, and when they discuss how sluggish the songs initially feel, we think, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll get up to speed.” There are now rock nostalgia tours featuring bands that haven’t played together for 30 years. The E Street Band, even from the “rough” first rehearsals, sound like a sparkling, well-oiled machine, and they know these songs by heart. Bruce, if anything, has only become more refined and organized. He meticulously crafts a set list, comprising 25 songs, that weaves a narrative— of the past and the present, of youth and age— as carefully constructed and meaningful as a novel.

A music documentary should undoubtedly celebrate its subject. I’ve never encountered one that didn’t. However, in “Road Diary,” there's an overwhelming amount of effusive praise. Bruce expresses his profound admiration for the band, their exceptional talent, and the remarkable contributions of the additional members (the jazz/funk horn section, the soul choir, percussionist Anthony Almonte), and they all reciprocate by showering Bruce with adoration, marveling at their ability to continue together after 50 years. I don’t doubt any of it, but the 99-minute movie didn’t need to constantly remind us. Springsteen is such a resonant and classy artist that a music documentary about him should never feel, in its positivity, like an infomercial, and this one occasionally veers in that direction.

But you can forgive that. These individuals (and the women, notably Springsteen's wife of 33 years, Patty Scialfa, who reveals in the movie her diagnosis of early-stage multiple myeloma), have earned the right to celebrate their longevity and the joy they bring to each other. Their acknowledgment of the loss of band members Danny Federici and the legendary Clarence Clemons (who was replaced by his nephew, Jake Clemons, who does a commendable job but delivers perhaps half the sonic impact that Clarence did) is both stirring and sobering. (Onstage during the tour, Bruce performs the Commodores’ “Night Shift” as a tribute to them. It becomes one of the concert's highlights.)

Their portrayal of the meticulous younger Bruce, who would make the band jam for hours while he precisely checked every sound in a stadium, reveals a lot about him. The tales of the band's initial touring years or witnessing Sam and Dave in a club in the early 1960s also provide insights. More than ever, you realize how deeply soul music is woven into the E Street Band's sound. At the end, Bruce, speaking to us off-screen, says he intends to keep performing in concerts “until the wheels come off.” Watching “Road Diary,” you hope they never do.