Woodstock (1970)

Goddamn! Of course I watched the director's cut of this extremely long movie, bringing the run time to a total of 228 minutes. Guess what? Most of this movie is boring. But being a person who likes at least 10% of the bands at Woodstock, is interested in hippie rock festivals, and enjoys groundbreaking documentaries, I watched the movie anyway. It turns out that the only fun acts to play at Woodstock were Sha Na Na and Sly and the Family Stone. All the others were way to heavy, man. And I still don't like Janis Joplin.

It's not one of those movies that follows the clause that if one doesn't like the bands, one won't like the movie. This isn't the Last Waltz. The best parts of Woodstock is the interviews with the fans, the crazies that were tripped out. It was really neat to watch the planners and hear what they all had to say. It's cool to remember that the festival cost millions of dollars to put on and didn't bring back any money. Nice. And the best line of the movie is an early announcement to the crowd: "Don't eat the brown acid." I guess it was bad or something.

What this movie mad me realize was that it's okay to have OCD. I will never use a Porta Potty, roll around in mud, share joints with 500,000 strangers, or bring my baby to a three-day festival. I also figured out that if I did go to Woodstock, the experience + the acid sure as hell would've cured my OCD.

3/5 pizzas