It's 1969, and Elliot Tiber (Demetri Martin), a down-on-his-luck interior designer in Greenwich Village, New York, has to move back upstate to help his parents run their dilapidated Catskills motel, The El Monaco. The bank's about to foreclose; his father wants to burn the place down, but hasn't paid the insurance; and Elliot is still figuring how to come out to his parents. When Elliot hears that a neighboring town has pulled the permit on a hippie music festival, he calls the producers, thinking he could drum up some much-needed business for the motel. Three weeks later, half a million people are on their way to his neighbor's farm in White Lake, NY, and Elliot finds himself swept up in a generation-defining experience that would change his life, and American culture, forever in Taking Woodstock.
Timed to come at the tail end of all the publicity surrounding the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock Music & Art Fair -- or simply "Woodstock" to most of us -- Ang Lee's Taking Woodstock avoids overlap with Michael Wadleigh's seminal 1970 documentary. He gives us the perspective of a real-life insider who, ironically, was simultaneously an outsider, being too busy with his festival duties to become part of the audience. Elliot Teichberg (Martin) aspires to the urban art scene but is stuck helping his parents operate a rundown motel in Bethel, N.Y., not far from the proposed site for the festival. When the organizers lose their permit, Elliot arranges for the event to be relocated to the farm of his neighbor Max Yasgur (Eugene Levy), with the motel serving as festival headquarters. No Lee film would be complete without elements of family drama -- that's what muddled his 2003 "Hulk" -- and Taking Woodstock is at least 50% about Elliot's strained relationship with his parents and his delayed coming of age. Dad (Henry Goodman) is stooped over from years of dealing with Mom (Imelda Staunton), an irritating, neurotic Holocaust survivor. And the problem is not merely that Elliot has given up his own life to help them out but that he's isolated from the urban culture that might give him some support vis-à-vis his sexuality. Yes, Elliot is gay, and a small town in the Catskills isn't quite the same as Greenwich Village.
We never hear more than snatches of the music, and it’s not until three-quarters of the way through that we and a tripping Elliot actually get to see a little of the concert, albeit from a very great distance. After following our hero through 90 minutes of behind-the-scenes craziness, this moment is simply beautiful, a transcendent glimpse of the event's more magical elements. (Let it also be said that -- after decades of ridiculous acid sequences in exploitation films -- Lee gives us the best simulation of real acid hallucinations I've ever seen.) Perhaps because he's never had a lead role before, Martin radiates awkwardness, which is exactly right for a character who can't relax, who is always playing at being straight. Staunton's performance is perfect; even if you want to bash her head in, you can’t help but feel the tiniest spark of sympathy. And -- as a transvestite, ex-Marine security guard -- Liev Schreiber is hilarious and surprisingly fetching. The only major misstep is the character of Billy (Emile Hirsch), a traumatized Vietnam vet. Lee and screenwriter James Schamus presumably wanted to give at least a nod to that other, more dire, emblem of the '60s. The result is a cliche that feels grafted on to the rest of the story. This may be the least ambitious of Lee's films, but his directorial chops still guarantee a worthwhile experience. This gets a 3 on my "Go See" scale.
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