Taking Woodstock

In the long and unpleasant cinematic history of films trying to capture the essence and élan of late 1960s America, there have been quite a few train wrecks - 1969, Across the Universe, The '60s, Rude Awakening, Berkeley and parts of the heinous crime commonly referred to as Forrest Gump to name but a few.

Whether these unmitigated disasters failed due to the elusive spirit of the love generation or simply because the time and place was so unique that it defies the sort of dramatic documentation that inevitably lends itself to cheap mimicry and stereotype, we may never know.

It was a crazy period.

I personally missed it. Being a mere babe at the height of the counterculture movement, I was more from the 8-ball and Ramones generation. I traded the Vietnam War protests for the quasi-political ranting of Joe Strummer and despised with every fiber of my being the ass-hats who voted Ronald Reagan into office. Which is why peace and love were always distant, fascinating concepts to me. I was more of a hater. My dope smoking always leaned more to the reggae and Black Sabbath variety of stonedom. My loving, more to the porn than the tantric. I have always been the electric media child.

Which is why I've always wanted to see a great film that nails the energy of the late '60s.

Ang Lee's Taking Woodstock is not that film.

While Lee wisely avoids a sweeping, grand focus on the festival - Michael Wadleigh's 1970 docu already did that splendidly - he loses something in his microcosmic approach. Namely, any sense of energy.

Quite peculiar is the choice of protagonist - a closeted Jewish kid (Demetri Martin) from NYC who has returned home to upstate White Lake for the summer to help his parents (Imelda Staunton and Henry Goodman) run their failing, fleabag motel. As the town's president of the chamber of commerce he creates the longed for permit that some concert promoters require to hold their festival (a nearby town denied them). He becomes the local face (and enabler) of Woodstock.

This sounds like an interesting story. It is based on the memoirs of Elliot Tiber, although the character of Elliot is played quite younger than the author actually was at the time (he was 34). But what kills the film is the fact that the small life of the nebbishy Elliot is nowhere near as fascinating as the events surrounding him. And the film unfortunately does not refuse him a minute of screen time. Preferring his "coming of age and out of the closet" tale to the largest gathering of American citizens up until that time for what was, perhaps, the greatest rock concert ever staged.

It's like watching a World War II movie about D-Day and focusing on one of the cooks on a destroyer out in the English Channel. Nothing to see here, folks. The action is over there. You continually hear the music from the festival in the background and begin to wonder just what the hell you're doing watching this kid argue with his mom when Sly Stone happens to be playing a mile down the road.

There are a few good moments. Elliot's LSD trip with a hippie couple in a van (Paul Dano and Kelli Garner) is startlingly realistic for those familiar with the blotter. Elliot's father's rekindled joy from the energy of the kids and the gathering has some spark to it. There's an homage to Godard's Weekend where Elliot is escorted to the concert on police motorcycle through waves of traffic, both automotive and human, in a long tracking shot. And best of all, the cast actually looks like they are from the era, not tramp-stamped pilates/workout freaks or ripped frat boys who are dressing up "hippie".

I suppose you can forgive the film for its good intentions. A rehash of the concert with some lip-syncing actors playing Hendrix or Joplin would have been too much to bear. It's just unfortunate that out of the hundreds of thousands of stories that came out of those three days of peace and magic that forever altered the American landscape, the filmmakers went and chose this one.

Comments

[SteveB]

Without Elliot Tiber, the miracle of Woodstock '69 wouldn't have happened - simple as that, really. For myself, I found this to be a story about those who don't get the notice - those who are an outsider of sorts, even in a place like Woodstock (where, after a near-lifetime of self denial, Elliot finally finds his place and takes his life into his own hands). Who among us have not had to do that for themselves? Isn't it wonderful to see this happen for someone - Elliot's freedom folllowing Woodstock is a universal, and it is justifiably the focus . . .

[C. Adolph Moores]

SteveB,

I never said that Tiber's contribution to the festival was not integral. He deserves kudos for his efforts.
Where we disagree is whether or not his personal story is worthy of a feature film. The merits of paeans to underdogs, "outsiders", or the unnoticed aside, Elliot's self-discovery is not all that uncommon or exceptional in its specificity.
It was boring. And it lacked energy amidst the "miracle" you speak of.
The question is - why did the filmmakers feel the need to portray Elliot so youthfully if they were truly going for an "outsider's" story? After all, in reality, he was a closeted 34 year old man, not a fresh-faced kid trying to discover himself as the film would have you believe.
They exchanged the potentially interesting self-denial of an approaching middle-aged man for the convenient confusions of youth.
But that's Hollywood for ya!
And why the film was ultimately disappointing.