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Right now, Woodstock ’99 holds a particularly miserable place in collective memory. The mere mention of the cursed festival’s name likely conjures up images of apocalyptic bonfires, rivers of human waste, and Fred Durst shouting a song about breaking shit at a sea of brothers who do just that. This is the stuff of a recurring nightmare – the Pinocchio ass scene, with denim shorts.
The story of Woodstock ’99, the second and possibly the last sequel to the legendary 1969 gathering in upstate New York, has been covered extensively in real time and has been uncovered and revisited every few years. since. The three-day event’s grim descent into sexual violence, looting and riots became the epitome of the mix of toxic masculinity and corporate greed that reigned in pop culture at the turn of the 20th century. But every generation gets the Woodstock documentary it deserves, and HBO Woodstock 99: peace, love and rage may be the definitive tale of a fateful moment when Gen X and Gen Y joined forces in complacent idiocy, made possible by delusional baby boomers.
In 2021, it’s hard to watch Woodstock 99 without comparing it to the recent Questlove Summer of the soul, a cheerful film documenting the astonishing performances (and fashions) at a previously obscure 1969 concert series in a Harlem public park: the so-called Black Woodstock. Woodstock 99, of course, is almost the exact opposite: the portrait of a soulless summer. The lineup of performers reflects the aggressive, almost all-male rock charts of the era (not only Limp Bizkit, but also Korn, Rage Against the Machine and Metallica); styles tend towards middle finger up and baseball caps upside down; signs and songs ask women to “show your breasts”. In precise detail, the film chronicles how a so-called countercultural coming of age turned into a pampered white guy crisis.
Over a weekend broadcast live and uncensored via pay-per-view, Woodstock ’99 resulted in three deaths, 1,200 admissions to on-site medical facilities, 44 arrests and numerous testimonies of sexual assault . On the final night, an overturned Mercedes-Benz caught fire as the Red Hot Chili Peppers – with Flea completely in the buff – ended the festival with a spectacularly untimely cover of “Fire” by Jimi Hendrix. MTV, which had covered the event closely, removed its employees from the stage littered with garbage and excrement. Hundreds of state soldiers in riot gear eventually quelled the rampaging crowd (and about a dozen bonfires); references to Lord of the Flies and Apocalypse now appear in the movie’s vintage dialog.
Executive produced by sports media impresario Bill Simmons, Woodstock 99 is the first installment in a series of HBO music documentaries created by the Spotify-owned company he founded, The Ringer. One of the film’s consulting producers and talking heads is Steven Hyden, a former Pitchfork contributor who ran an eight-part festival podcast for The Ringer two years ago – not many people have studied Woodstock ’99 closer than him, and the film is a solid showcase of research and information. Director Garrett Price, who previously oversaw a documentary on the late actor Anton Yelchin, deftly taps into the vast treasure trove of available footage. It also has an impressive range of lengthy interviews with festival organizers, attendees, security personnel, emergency personnel, artists and music journalists. Woodstock 99 aims to tell the story of the ill-fated festival, examine why it went wrong, shine a light on the pre-millennial angst of American youth, and reassess the 1970s Woodstock documentary idealism, which is a lot for a two hour film! It mainly ends with a solid summation of the cover oars that came before it.
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