You have the powerful soul of Otis Redding, the screeching of Janis Joplin, the more traditional sincerity of Simon and Garfunkel, the Mamas and the Papas’ definitive “flower child” music, Jimi Hendrix’s on-stage antics, The Who’s wildly energetic and destructive performance, and more. What interested me the most was the wild intersection of all these acts. Some came up in the folk or rock scenes of the early 1960s, others emerged out of the hippie era, and yet they’re all collectively embracing the message of peace and love. (To different extents of authenticity, though; I’ve never been able to see a colorfully clothed Who lineup on stage without thinking that it’s nothing more than dress-up). While The Beatles were in the studio crafting groundbreaking material, others who claimed a spot in the psychedelic movement were at the performative forefront, putting expression above all and bringing more experimental and diverse styles into the mainstream at concerts. What seems strange yet understandable is that acts that may have seemed antithetical to (or, at the very least, not exactly compatible with) this drug-fueled, “freeing” music — at least on the surface — sort of just blended into the new trend. And I never really gave it much thought but it’s really jarring. The Who is on stage singing “My Generation” and despite having released the song only two years before the events in this film, you look at that album's cover and it feels as outdated as Buddy Holly. Yet, it’s accepted and, honestly, somewhat works.
The culture changed so quickly and it’s bizarre watching some of the vignettes in this film — the monkey on some guy’s shoulder with "love" painted on its forehead, the people sleeping on football fields, “free rocks” at a vendor stand, straggler-looking concertgoers without shoes, and the mesmerized faces of audience members who look genuinely hypnotized by what they're witnessing. D.A. Pennebaker is such an incredible documentarian because he was aware enough to capture both the big and small moments — the performers and the audience members are given equal intimacy — making for a film that paints such a vivid and potent image of 1967. Whether or not you like the music and culture, its reputation has left an indelible mark on what most Americans view the ‘60s as. Ask anyone what they think of first when they hear “the 1960s” and there’s a more than likely chance that a peace sign will pop into their heads. (Either that or the Civil Rights movement or space race). And music is not only intertwined with that cultural movement but inseparable from it.
And what a nice little Micky Dolenz cameo at the end!
Pennebaker really was one of the best documentarians at this time and this is one of his best. Shout out to Hugh Masakela and Ravi Shankar who between them basically created the World Music phenomenon that would peak later.
Informative to contrast with the Altamont show from 1970 when you see the peace and love vibe turn murderously sour.