Taking Woodstock (Film Review)

I read somewhere that after "six depressing and/or suicidal films in a row", Ang Lee wanted to do a comedy to relax with. Now I haven't seen Lust, Caution, but I did see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Brokeback Mountain, and The Incredible Hulk, and I can see his point. The result of Mr. Lee's desire to relax, I'm happy to report, is a completely unpretentious and fun comedy which in spirit goes back to his early The Wedding Banquet days. Also, to get this out of the way first, this isn't a film about the legendary Woodstock concert, and a good thing, too, because that's what you have the documunentary for. Plus recreating Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin et al. would inevitably mean every single review, professional or hobby, would focus on comparing the recreation with the original. No, Taking Woodstock is about one particular aspect of the backstory, to wit, young Elliot Teichberg (later Tiber) who after hearing the concert organization got kicked out ouf the neigbouring Wallkill offers his parents' floundering motel and backlot in White Lake (which is a swamp, but luckily local farmer Max Yasgur comes on board with providing his grounds), and with that kicks off a development that leads to the "three days of music, love and peace" (and mud, and acid...) that became iconic for the 60s. Elliot, who lived for a short while a painter and interior designer in New York but came back to help out his parents, is an engaging comedy hero who proves that "nice" isn't an equivalent of "boring", is a bit overwhelmed by what he started but gets caught up in the spirit of it all and while he's at it also comes out to his parents and his hometown. (Talk about a director's need to relax. After the agonies of Brokeback Mountain, Elliot's coming-out subplot climaxing in him simply snogging one of the stage building carpenters in public to the cheering of the hippies and the not-the-sky-falling-down from the parents must have felt great.)

The parents are played by Imelda Staunton, who is superb (and different) in every single role I've seen her in, here as a woman who could easily have been a caricature (dominating Russian-Jewish mother) but isn't, and Henry Goodman as the father; this is a wonderful ensemble film in general, with Emile Hirsch (remember him from Milk?) as Vietnam vet Billy, and Liev Schreiber as the transvestite ex-marine Vilma whom Elliot hires for security. Schreiber is another case of an actor taking a character who in lesser hands could have come across as a caricature and making said character a highlight of the film; Vilma is someone whose identity battles are already behind him/her and who is just comfortable in her body, becoming a great mentor for Elliot. Oh, and for your SPN fans, there's Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Billy's disapproving brother Dan, and no, he doesn't die in this movie. *g* The whole film is an unabashed love declaration to the (late) 60s, a complete contrast to Ang Lee's depiction of the 70s in The Ice Storm and very refreshing after the demonization and bashing of the 60s (at least the flower power part of same) from the right in the last two decades. It's full of optimism, and again, I think it was the right choice not to show any of the actual Woodstock performances, either by interjecting real footage or by trying to recreate them; Elliot never makes it that close to the stage while the concert is lasting, though he comes close enough to hear a couple of times. It doesn't matter because the joy of participating, as the Olympic cliché goes, in this film really is the main point.

Woodstock organizer Michael Lang - who in the film is both an incredibly relaxed hippie and a canny businessman - has a line in the end which if you know something about the 60s indicates the party is over. (The next concert he wants to organize is one featuring the Rolling Stones; google for the bloody results if you want.) It's the one cautious nod to the sobering up process the film makes, and a very discreet one; otherwise it's a hymn to those "damn hippies", changing times which needed changing, optimism and joy. Far out.

fannish5: Name the five most fascinating alien cultures.

Trickier then you'd think, because the question was not about the "five most fascinating aliens", which means aliens I find fascinating without extending this to others of their species are out. Thus, for example, no Scorpius, not that he isn't in a unique position anyway, due to his hybridness (you can't count him either as a Sebacean or a Scarran). So, let's see, alien cultures, plural.

1) The Centauri (Babylon 5). Okay, so this one is a no brainer if you've read more than one of my B5 stories and related entries. But they're really a clear case where I like more than one individual, and like expanding on the rich canon we already have. (Seriously, the Minbari may be space elves and the Narn noble resistance fighters, but you can't tell me JMS doesn't not so secretly favour the great Centauri Republic. My cardinal evidence for this is season 4, where he didn't know whether or not he'd ever get a fifth season and thus was incredibly pressed for time, had to make snips and cuts and had to set priorities. Now compare the number of episodes taking place on Centauri Prime to the number of episodes taking place on Minbar, and the screentime devoted to the Londo/Vir/G'Kar conspiracy against Cartagia to the number of episodes devoted to the Minbari Civil War. Results: Centauri politics - six episodes, from Hour of the Wolf to Into the Fire; Minbari politics: three (or four) episodes, depending on whether or not you count Atonment which isn't about the Minbari present but the Minbari past. ) So, the Centauri. Obviously inspired by the Romans, which made me like them already (I have a thing for Roman history). They've got pink starships (something JMS gleefully points out in an s1 audio commentary), an... interesting anatomy we get treated to on screen occasionally, consider parties as religious service, dream of their deaths which seems to be connected to their general hedonism, are polygamous, and start the show being regarded as the has-beens of the galaxy. Their political system is an imperialist patriarchy in dire need of reformation and/or revolution, but as such makes for immensely gripping plot lines. Also, if their hair styles turned you off the show, it's your loss. Long live the Centauri Republic!

2.) Leviathans and their Pilots (Farscape). In Farscape, it's actually the human, John Crichton, who's the alien, which the show makes much off in the early seasons; and we get a colourful variety of various races. But none of them fascinate me the way the living ships, the leviathans, and the pilots they live in symbiosis with do. (I'm counting them as their own culture, not as belonging to the Sebaceans or anyone else.) This is where Farscape scores best in alien-ness, imo. Now we don't meet many leviathans - Moya (ship Our Heroes live on), Talyn (her son), the leviathan Our Heroes meet in a season 3 episode which is an a very gruesome state indeed (trying to put this unspoilery), and the leviathan which is the location for the s4 opening episode. Except for Talyn (who is a special case), we also meet the pilots who steer them. Now the leviathans don't have a human voice (they usually communicate through the pilots), and the pilots are multi-limbed creatures made by Jim Henson's shop. And yet we get a distinct sense of personality for each of these beings. They're unique, each of them. Finding out what happened to that s3 episode leviathan and her pilot makes you absolutely horrified because of this. Finding out quite how "our" Pilot came to to be Moya's pilot, what his and Moya's backstory is, and how pilots and leviathans are connected in the s2 episode The Way We Weren't is the best illustration for the claim Farscape fans make if non-viewers mutter something about muppets: The muppets will make you cry. And with all the canon in existence, there is so much more yet untold. So yes, these two symbiotic species are definitely among my top five for "most fascinating alien culture".

3.) Cardassians (Star Trek, introduced in TNG, mostly to be found on DS9). This is where you notice that fond as I am of TOS, the core of my Star Trek fannishness focuses around the spin-offs. Two in particular, for different reasons. (Otherwise I would have named the Vulcans, I guess.) Practically the physical embodiment of the shades of grey DS9 specializes in, the Cardassians who grace the screen are invariably interesting. (Can't think of a dull one, except in the Mirrorverse, which, go figure.) They're the product of a fascist society they either conform with, rebel against or are something in between towards to, but never indifferent, tend to be quite versatile and have an excellent memory. Their physical appearance was clearly inspired by lizards (it makes their necks look very elegant), and they do like the warmth quite a lot. If you get an episode with a morally ambiguos and/or political storyline, chances are at least one Cardassian character is in it. In short, as Spock would say: fascinating! (And yes, I hope the Rebootverse features the Cardassians. They haven't made it to the big screen outings so far but have a rich background from the later tv series that could be drawn upon, and they're mentioned by name in the last movie.)

4.) Ferengi (Star Trek, the other race introduced in TNG and developed on DS9). But as opposed to the Cardassians, whose TNG debut, season 5's The Wounded, was actually a stellar episode (the very first O'Brien character ep, and a great introduction for the scaly ones to boot), the Ferengi got introduced in one of the very worst TNG episodes. And honestly, it didn't get much better all through TNG's run. By and large, they were horrible one dimensional caricatures. Then DS9 was created, with a Ferengi regular. And two Ferengi relations of his as recurring. And before we knew it, the Ferengi were three dimensional aliens you could get interested in, who had their own sense of ethics which simply wasn't a human one, and who were, nonetheless, as one of DS9's headwriters, Ira Steven Behr, put it, "the most 20th century human" characters (aka the ones allowed to showcase all the weaknesses of the human race). (See, this is why I shortly before BSG ended had an epiphany: the Ferengi = Gaius Baltar, and I like both for similar reasons. They can be selfish, greedy, hormonal, seeing discretion as the better part of valor... but they also can be more, and when they are, it's gripping it often isn't when the regular heroes do the bravery, compassion and friendship thing. They also for all their faults aren't into megalomania.) As with the Centauri, it's not just that I love one of them, or an interested in just one; I liked and in some cases loved all the Ferengi on DS9 in varying degrees, with one or two exceptions, I dug the Ferengi episodes (a case of love or hate in DS9 fandom), I still can quote some Rules of Acquisition by heart, I loved the attention to detail that was the constant rain on Ferenginar (because that totally explains why the dominant life form looks the way the Ferengi do), complete with different terms for same, and whenever a Ferengi got to comment archly on human/Klingon/Bajoran culture, you were in for some great lines. In short: Ferengi are like gold-pressed latinum: treasure them!

5.) Cylons (new Battlestar Galactica). So, after Laura Roslin, you know what impressed me most when the miniseries which kicked off new BSG debuted in 2005? The fact that those dreary robots I dimly recalled from the two or so episodes I had watched of old BSG had gotten mixed with Blade Runner style androids interesting. (I'm strange: it was Six killing the baby which did it, because that was the first time someone killing a child instead of making that person more evil made the person more ambiguous to me, as she clearly didn't do it because of malice, or cruelty, or hate. Now I know some viewers had the direct opposite reaction, but that was mine: I thought, Six, you and your fellow models obviously have a completely screwed up sense of ethics. You're interesting! Tell me more about those monotheistic genocidal Cylons, show.) When in season 2 we got our first Cylon pov episode, Downloaded, I cheered and promptly loved it so much it became my favourite of that season. When in s3 people complained that the scenes on the Cylon baseship were boring, I by contrast found them often the most interesting of the respective episodes and wished there were more (not least because then poor Boomer would have gotten something like real characterisation again). In s4, while grrrrring and argghing about other stuff, I loved, loved, loved No Exit (aka Genesis meets Oedipus, Cylon style). In conclusion: they may not have had a plan, but they sure as hell kept my attention, which is more than you can say for some of the humans on this show.

Footnote to 5) : if someone wants to dispute that the Cylons qualify as an alien culture, I would like to point you towards the TNG episode Measure of a Man, in which Jean-Luc Picard sums up the "Data is not a toaster" case up near the end with: "Starfleet was founded to seek out new life - well, here it is!"