Ang Lee’s Taking Woodstock, a comedic account of Elliot Tiber’s attempt to organize the festival that became the iconic Woodstock, has recently been released in cinemas. While for Lee, dealing with a given historical period is something of a specialty (The Ice Storm: 1970s, Brokeback Mountain: 1960s-1980s, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: The Qing Dynasty) the Woodstock years and the Rock and Roll era in general has been the subject of numerous representations, for better (Almost Famous, Spinal Tap) and for worse (so much worse: The Boat That Rocked). The release of an addition to this mini-genre prompted me to explore the problems and pitfalls of Hollywood’s take on Rock music, because few of these films avoid seeming awkwardly contrived. Maybe it’s just because it takes a really crass, sentimental mindset to even bother to make a period film like this that they frequently fall flat. But films like Goodfellas and Boogie Nights lay down a pretty appropriate framework that these films could try to mimic; it’s not as if formal innovativeness is what most of these filmmakers are aiming for.
Since it’s pretty clear that Rock n’ Roll consists mainly of affectation and performance, and cinema likewise it seems kind of pointless to suggest there is a loss of authenticity or reality when Rock and Roll is depicted onscreen. Actually, the greater scope of representation that cinema allows surely makes it ideal for Rock and Roll. However, while what we call authenticity, the true Rock and Roll spirit or whatever, is or might as well be a total act, insincere to the bone, this doesn’t mean that this act and its milieu is any easier to reproduce onscreen.
There’s not much in rock music itself that necessarily suggests the bulk of narrative film that takes it as its subject matter; much of it is just made up and subsequently incorporated into the larger iconography of Rock and Roll. This point has been made before in relation to things like genre and history, but it also applies to Rock and Roll and cinema. So, as often happens with cinema, our idea of what Rock and Roll is comes not only from the music but also from whatever films have been devoted to it; we cannot distinguish our sources and it doesn’t really matter anymore. Mythology is mythology, whether it comes from apocrypha concerning The Rolling Stones in some debauched hotel room, lyrics, music, biography or film. We measure the strength of films like Almost Famous and Taking Woodstock not on actual authenticity but whether they can either effectively reproduce their chosen mythology or add something new, perhaps changing it forever. I’m talking only about comparing these films to Rock and Roll as a concept; character and plot still matter.
I should distinguish documentaries like The Last Waltz from something like Almost Famous. Such documentaries are interesting cases. Usually, “truth” in documentary is something to be sceptical of, but in the case of concert footage we might let our guard down a little. After all, it’s not as if the camera will be much more of a distraction to a rock group performing for thousands of people. The way the camera moves around the performers is hugely suggestive, but I think we could consider camera movement to be just another performer in the band. I haven’t seen This is It, the latest Michael Jackson cash-in, but it’s possible that it’s a pretty accurate reflection of how the man was on stage. The case of Woodstock the documentary is somewhat different, as it provides interviews of individual audience members, as well as employing highly stylised techniques such as split screens during the actual performances, which does impact on our reception of the event. That said, it’s a film with such an abundance of insight and material that not all of it has yet been appropriated as Rock and Roll iconography; some of it is, perhaps, too subtle, too shocking. It’s a wonderful film, actually; the most satisfying that I’ve seen that deals with Rock music as subject matter.
Reiner’s Spinal Tap, Stone’s The Doors and whichever Wayne’s World they stage a concert in; these are all highly sophisticated films and I’m not suggesting the filmmakers aren’t aware of the issues at stake. Sometimes they’re not, though, and not everyone notices. For an idea about how awfully wrong this can turn out, watch the cloyingly, insufferably, alienatingly “nostalgic” The Boat that Rocked; I literally think this is the worst film I’ve ever seen. But please, do watch it.
The Rock and Roll of the 1960s that Taking Woodstock attempts to evoke is totally inaccessible for us now. For various reasons, no one is going to be making films about most of the best pop/rock music of our day, or at least not fiction films. Diablo Cody’s recent Jennifer’s Body (a film about music and culture as much as sexuality) includes a parody of a contemporary, affable Indie band, the joke being that they are secretly Satanists. Up to now, the joke has been that an ostensibly Satanic/terrifying band turn out to be quite pleasant and friendly. So the mythology surrounding rock music now has become less potent, more diffuse and as a whole, doesn’t appear to admit dramatic rendering. Does this mean we’re going to see lots more films hell bent on recreating the Woodstock era? But also, if much of what we see in these films is made up, then why couldn’t someone invent a mythology for contemporary music? Inevitably, this also runs the risk of sentimentalising; however a version of Almost Famous for our generation would be worth checking out.
