The thing with this scene, which comes at the end of a documentary about the White Stripes' 2007 Canadian tour, is that it seems to sum up a relationship of painful complexity behind all of the self-created mythology. We've watched the near-mute Meg and magnetic Jack on stage and off, a former couple turned faux siblings, Meg shrinking away from the spotlight while Jack never seems able to turn off. And in this moment, a performance in front of no audience but the camera, taped after their tenth anniversary show, they seemed laid bare. Why does Meg cry? Is it the weariness of serving as part of someone else's performance art? Is it the sense of spun-out separation between the two, of trailing in someone's outsized wake, his own chosen limitation to work with and around? Or is it just the weight of that much history, that much time on the road, that much time together, of knowing someone that well?