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Ang Lee’s continuing trip through American culture stops off in the late 60’s in a rural country town in upstate New York, where enterprising but stuck-in-a-rut Demetri Martin somehow wrangles a big music festival to his humble town to help his parents’ struggling motel business, and from there Woodstock happens. Good premise, but Lee doesn’t have much of a handle on the counter-culture save for the usual cliches, the characters and their psychosis are muddled, and the modest budget doesn’t do the crowd scenes any justice, making a concert that featured half a million people look like a composite of a few hundred grubby extras and some background CGI. An extended acid trip is pretty well done though, and Martin, a comedian making his feature acting debut, takes the straight lead role admirably next to all the freaks, hippies, and promoters. Watch again with Lee and lifetime collaborator James Schamus’ commentary track for a better appreciation of their influences and film-making decisions.

Truthfully, I believe that the thing so many detractors point to concerning Taking Woodstock is my favorite part of the whole endeavor. I thought that the trailers did a very good job of explaining that Ang Lee was telling a story about the behind the scenes construction of the festival, using Elliot Tiber’s story of saving his parents motel and putting their sleepy little town on the map. If you want to see the concert and the music and the artists, rent Woodstock the documentary. Even when the show is in full swing, you never get closer than a glimmer of light at the center of a sea of people because it is not about the music. This is peace, love, and disharmony, showing the partiers, the hippies, the moneymen, and the international melting pot mixing together for an event the world had never seen. It is the reawakening of two elderly Jewish immigrants who have been waiting to die and the sexual awakening for Tiber himself, finally able to toss the suit aside and figure out who he truly is. The music is just the catalyst for all the human intricacies to come out.

It begins with Tiber’s return home, attempting to save his parents from having the bank foreclose on their livelihood. The motel is in shambles—dirty sheets, an empty pool, and towels are an extra buck to use. By being the new town commerce department president, Tiber works his way towards a permit to have his annual music festival, or evening of record playing outdoors, and a new information booth to be erected and drive traffic in to stay at the motel. Here is the prodigal son returned, getting hellos and welcome backs from everyone in town, glad to have a young person with vision in Bethel. Money is tighter than ever, though, and his friends from the city are moving to San Francisco, so the sober realization that he has locked himself into a season made of a slow death makes him pay extra attention to the fact that the Woodstock Festival just got run out of town close by. With a permit already signed for music, a willing neighbor in Eugene Levy’s dairy farmer Max Yasgur to supply land, and a surprising past friendship with the show’s organizer Michael Lang, the stars appear to be aligned for Tiber to work some magic. The townsfolk no longer feel too happy to have him back though.

Demetri Martin doe a real good job at showing the shy and reserved Tiber, slowly discovering the man he wants to be. By watching his parents break out of their funk—Imelda Staunton is fantastic as the old woman manufacturing anti-Semitism to guilt her way to what she wants and Henry Goodman shines as the father finally able to express himself to his son, having more than just his wife to spend time with—he starts to envision a future. They now have the money to hire help with the mortgage paid off; he can move along and create a name for himself somewhere knowing they will be okay alone. But, of course, things are not that cut and dry. Secrets are uncovered within the family that cause what should be a joyous time to be sadly unsatisfying, yet their discovery allows for a move towards the future. And through it all we see the concertgoers arriving, organizers getting details ready for the show, and just a plethora of unique individuals passing by and interacting with Tiber as he journeys through the mass of humanity.

All the real moments of clarity come from these people periodically entering and exiting the film. There is Emile Hirsch’s Vietnam veteran, ravaged by flashbacks and an unsympathetic brother in Jeffrey Dean Morgan, that allows the harmonious joy to wash over him, bringing back memories from before the horrors overseas; there is Paul Dano and Kelli Garner as tripped out hippies, adding some entertainment despite being involved in the most unnecessary scene of the movie with the prerequisite drug-induced colors and movement of static objects; and there’s Liev Schreiber’s cross-dressing, ex-Marine, head of security, doubling as the sage-like voice of reason for the Teichberg family, seeing the love they have for son Tiber as well as Elliot’s blindness to that expression. I would actually compare the film to something like Bobby, not as good mind you, but a similar film using a historical event to show intertwining stories occurring on its outskirts. Even though everything revolves around this young man, it really is the characters that resonate rather than the story they are taking part in.

Ang Lee appears to really enjoy the split-screen, bringing it back from his Hulk days, but in much better use here. Whereas the gimmick back then was to give a comic book feel, showing the exact same thing three times from different angles, the current utilization displays the numerous activities going on, the comradery, the nudity, and the enjoyment of a weekend away from the constraints of capitalism as collage. This film is a slice of life, a sprawling epic about the people instead of the event itself, and that’s exactly why I enjoyed it as much as I did. Everyone is crazy in some respect and watching them act insane is a lot of fun amongst the details of the time. The mudslides are in full use, every piece of metal is electrified come day three, and the chocolate milk is delicious. Taking Woodstock may not be some profound tale that needed to be brought in front of cameras, but it is a piece of history and nostalgic look back to a time when rock and roll could enrage a town and unite it. You don’t have to look farther than good ol’ Annie played by Bette Henritze, loving the yoga classes and the no longer vacant hotel rooms at her establishment. Sometimes you just have to let loose for once and live.

Taking Woodstock 8/10

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This is one of the most uninformative, uninteresting, and unconvincing movies I’ve ever seen. If I wasn’t too exhausted from the rest of the festival I would have walked out, but I have a policy not to do so for any film in case some how in the second act something brilliant makes up for the first – in this case a stereotypical to the point of being borderline racist/xenophobic (the ‘Jewish Mother’ literally hoarding cash in her closet seen later hugging the pile while she forces her husband and sun to live in abject poverty) unappealing mix of unmotivated cliché acting and characters. One or two scenes are slightly interesting visually, but to fit in the bland loosely edited boring diagesis of the rest of the film’s world they only occur on an acid trip. To put in a brash manner, Taking Woodstock was one of the worst movies I’ve seen in my life, and by far the worst I’ve encountered at a festival, from a sheer effort-in-filmmaking perspective – especially in contrast to prior work from such a beloved director.

Even with an excellent visual direction and high level of technical polish and production design, Ang Lee’s “Taking Woodstock” comes out uneven and to some extent unconvincing. In my opinion, the story is not big enough. Woodstock is a cultural phenomenom that has become a myth. Naturally, it is interesting to examine the behind-the-scenes and to reveal the mundane, funny and improvised aspect of it all but shouldn’t there be a distance, a level of satire, that enhances the experience? Elliot Teischberg is simply too dull as a main protagonist and the characters that surround him appear as caricatures.

The absurd situation could certainly have been better fodder for a Monty Python style comedy and I regret that a John Cleese was not at the helm. Ang Lee attempts to make a semi-serious observation while controlling colliding realities. What should be high comedy turns into soft smiles. The pacing is also too slow and there is below average comedic timing. Ang Lee’s choices in direction are definitely not being validated. In the end, I did miss not seeing more of the concert itself and I did not care much about the surrounding mess. I also think that some miscasting did not help, especially with Demetri Martin and Liev Schreiber.

“A great comedian does not a good actor make.” — Snooty Film Critic Proverb.

Demetri Martin is my favorite observational comedian. He’s actually quite brilliant. His relaxed yet sincere demeanor melds so perfectly with his dead-pan delivery, and his Comedy Central series, “The Demetri Martin Show,” has included some of the funniest bits I’ve ever seen. Yet I have no idea what possessed Ang Lee to cast him as the lead in his newest film “Taking Woodstock,” an embarrassingly sentimental look at the true story behind that 3 day orgy of drugs, rock, and peace. It’s based on a memoir by the real-life Elliot Tiber, the Brooklyn-born interior designer that was ultimately responsible for bringing the Woodstock music festival to the sleepy town of White Lake, New York.

Perhaps wisely, Demetri Martin seems to make little effort to play anyone but himself, and while that saves us from what would have undoubtedly been two hours of poor acting, it also limits his ability to convincingly move his character through what was obviously intended to be a process of self-discovery. Elliot, it turns out, is a closeted homosexual who at the beginning of the film is forced to move from New York City back to White Lake to help his parents run their dilapidated motel. He’s elected president of the local chamber of commerce, yet he finds that his efforts to invigorate the local economy and his parent’s ailing motel are blocked by both his stubborn mother and an ignorant, fearful townspeople. Fortune, however, shines upon him, and by chance he finds himself in a position to offer the Woodstock music festival the use of his town, much to the chagrin of his parents and the townspeople.

Though obviously the film could have benefited from a different casting director, ‘Taking’ also suffers from a lack of narrative coherence. Certainly Ang Lee tried to capture the excitement and naivete that captivated those throngs of hippies, yet he lingers on the superficial, leaving us with the same images of peace signs, naked babies, and drug-induced gyrations that we’ve seen over and over again in the newsreel clips. Similarly, Elliot’s path to sexual and personal liberation looks half-baked, with any substantive soul-searching left on the cutting room floor. I know not whether that was the result of Demitri’s limited range or Ang Lee’s own vision, yet regardless, the end result is a watered-down slice of history, a blurred narrative with all the breadth and depth of a Lifetime original.

The film is not without its highlights. Imelda Staunton, playing Elliot’s mother Sonia, has once again proven herself a cinematic treasure, elevating her character from a stereotypical money-grubbing Jewish-Russian immigrant into the very epitome of the slave-driving mother – a slobbery, overweight beast of a women that extinguishes every last flame of happiness from anyone unfortunate enough to live in her vicinity. This was actually the second time I’ve seen her play a character so thoroughly infuriating that I’ve wanted to reach across the screen and strangle her (the first being her portrayal of Dolores Umbridge in “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix”). Sadly, her paroxysms were all too brief flashes of inspiration in what was otherwise a decidedly mediocre affair.

Last Word: A watered-down slice of history that suffers from bad casting and rosy sentimentality.

Still renowned and remembered by parents and their progeny alike, Woodstock serves as the cornerstone of both the musical and social revolution that took place during the sixties. A perfect example of raw nature and hippy-ism gone wildly out of control, this romanticized, imitated and often criticized festival made history in the little town of Bethel in upstate New York. Words that may come to mind in the describing of such a gathering may be things like warmth, exploration, progression, experimentation, or even chaos; words which unfortunately could never be associated with Ang Lee’s latest clunker, Taking Woodstock.

From the get-go “Woodstock” makes no false promises of grandeur or spectacle (this is a film about the Woodstock music festival isn’t it?). The opening shots are of a quaint, rural American farmland, devoid of anything especially exciting or groundbreaking. This remains a plot tool that sees no inconsistent use throughout the film. Viewers are left detached from the actual action as they spend most of their time on the outside of the show, experiencing the phenomenon from the perspective of land and business owners in the area. The first half deals with the conception of the festival as the viewer follows the uneasy and charisma-less son of Jewish hotel owners, played by the wryly-amusing stand-up comic, Demitri Martin. As Elliot Teichberg, Martin’s portrayal is strangely uninteresting. As a matter of fact so is the whole film. The plot merely plods on as the Teichbergs are forced to deal with the endless onslaught of eccentric protesters and peace lovers. Each and every sixties cliché is icing pointlessly topped onto a lopsided and uninspired indie cake. With the second half comes a strange plateau in the forward moving story, as instead of progressing into the heart of the legendary gathering, director Ang Lee chooses to meander on the outskirts of the event, capitalizing on cute exchanges between Elliot and his oddball group of new friends. Elliot slowly develops into a more liberal and free spirit, as the film thematically succumbs to that of an unoriginal coming of age tale. Elliot comes to terms with his homosexuality. Elliot drops acid. Elliot sees the sea of spirit people as he watches the show from atop a hill. Elliot learns to be his own man. Yawn. It is shockingly that simple. Not unlike any other origin of a historic event, it hits all the same familiar sour notes. Conflict arises between Elliot and his parents as they become money hungry and opportunistic (did I mention Lee makes it extremely clear that the family is Jewish?), the outside world doesn’t know what to think and news reporters swirl around in a sea of nudity, protest, and peace… man. The name of the game, my friends, is stereotyping, and stereotyping will never lead an artist to anything engaging or insightful.

“Woodstock” is not without its merits, however. Also, though grossly overplayed, Emile Hirsch of Into the Wild fame makes a welcome appearance as a deranged ’Nam vet. Additionally deserving of praise is the ever present, ever entertaining, and remarkably reserved turn by Eugene Levy. Aesthetically, Ang Lee deserves endless accolades for his and his cinematographer Eric Gautier’s bold colors and immersive set design. Their vision of a reserved and quiet farmland invaded by the relentless onslaught of 50,000 concertgoers is thought provoking, yet the results are underwhelming. This fascinating conundrum of peace-lovers stirring up chaos, disorganization and pandemonium in a peaceable land could have served as a fascinating human drama. Their only window into the outside world is a lone, black and white television set, and Woodstock serves as a political and social melting pot, the culmination of outrage, fury and an insuppressible zest for peace.

Unfortunately bright new ideas are far outnumbered by familiar caricatures of sixties culture and lukewarm plot devices. The result is so-so, as the film clearly does not aim to educate about the event or even portray the actual events history making performances and atmosphere. We are left on the sidelines, straining to care for uninteresting, stagnant players in a visionless film, and hoping for a chance to see at least one actual musical performance. In the end, neither actually occurs. Do yourself a favor and rent or buy Michael Wadleigh’s exceptional documentary/concert DVD, Woodstock. It’s a journey that actually provides insight into the political background of the event, lets you jam with Janis Joplin, the Who, Hendrix, and more, and grants anyone who cares at all about the music and culture of the sixties what they’d really love to see in a presentation the most revolutionary concert of all time: chaos.