Woodstock (1970)

The 25th-anniversary director's cut remains vital as a utopian corrective and the ultimate rock concert movie, with advances in filming techniques still unmatched after a quarter-century. The added footage enhances the documentary without making it feel unbearably long, and the film's power as a document of a faded dream leaves viewers unexpectedly sad at its close.

The film is an archeological study of the Woodstock nation that captures the style and feel of the mass event better than any other American documentary. It succeeds in making viewers feel how it must have been to be there through intimate filming of the music and the crowd's cooperative spirit amid challenges.

The critic praises the film as one of cinema's great time capsules and one of its most imaginative showcases of editing. They highlight the improved picture and sound in the 40th-anniversary edition along with substantial extras including additional performances.

The critic views the film as somewhat overrated due to decades of myth-making but notes that reissues with extra footage allow fresh appreciation. Wadleigh is praised for the thoughtful structure that contextualizes the event beyond just performances.

Woodstock is a virtually perfect record of the music festival and a milestone in artistic collation of raw footage into a dazzling multipanel montage. It is an absolute triumph in its marriage of cinematic technology to reality, engaging the senses with barely a let-up thanks to outstanding musical talents.

The review highlights Wadleigh's success in capturing both the beauty and chaos of the festival, including local reactions and attendee interviews. It focuses positively on the restored presentation of the director's cut while noting limitations in the extras for this edition.

The re-released Woodstock is a triumph of form over content, with Thelma Schoonmaker's split-screen editing still delivering excitement despite mostly standard performances by second-rank bands. The longer director's cut has inevitable longueurs for new viewers, though Joplin's section and Hendrix's closing performance stand out.

The film is a completely affable documentary that ropes everybody together in a sunny, romanticized view of the festival's luck and harmony, mirroring the beatified mood with split screens and 3-D sound. It reflects a hope in going back to the bucolic but is obsequious in hammering home only the positive aspects while ignoring tawdriness or ill humor.

The movie records the extraordinary festival event with good humor but is somewhat less extraordinary than the event itself, using split screens and effects to present performances in context. Its length and visual rhythm produce a fatigue that approximates the nonstop togetherness orgy of the festival.

The review sees the film as a legendary piece of trend-setting opportunism and a time capsule of the era. It acknowledges strong performances from Hendrix, Havens, Cocker and others but concludes by preferring Gimme Shelter.

The review praises the film as the definitive concert documentary and a balanced window into the 1969 festival's music, logistics, and counter-culture impact. It highlights the Blu-ray's solid transfer and extras while noting the authentic imperfections of the original 16mm footage.