Woodstock 99 attempts to trace the tributaries drizzling fuel on the festival’s inferno, but it’s more notable for being the rare music documentary that doesn’t really seem to care for much of the music it’s covering. Photo: Catherine Lash/HBO I’ve been watching The Sopranos almost every night this summer. In that maelstrom of cunning mobsters, careless crooks, and effete, affluent New Jersey socialites, my anchor is A.J. Soprano, the surly son of the show’s titular boss. A.J.
Now, the archival footage is damning. It’s nasty, from little details like the lascivious way Dave Matthews says “titties” to bigger ones like the moment Rosie Perez is heckled about showing her breasts when she arrives to introduce DMX’s set.
The rage of late-’90s guitar music, we are told, was equal parts defeatism, an appeasement of our baser instincts sparked by the loss of enlightened figureheads like Kurt Cobain, and a rejection of the teen-pop machine. Pawning it off as an objection to Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys is looking at it through TRL blinders. The debut Korn album was certified platinum before we heard “Quit Playing Games With My Heart,” and a year before “Baby One More Time” dropped.
CraigSJ Glad people are pretty much universally panning this.
CraigSJ This is a good doc
CraigSJ For a film that decries the objectification of topless women at Woodstock 99, the film sure spent a lot of time showing topless women.
CraigSJ Maybe because the music was terrible?
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