The Criterion label does a smash-up job with classic American and foreign releases, and
The Complete Monterey Pop,
a celebration of the famously indelible musical concert of nearly four
decades ago, is one of their bestselling DVD box sets. For those
heretofore hesitant to pony up for the full collection of D. A.
Pennebaker’s concert features, however,
Monterey Pop and the two-for-one Jimi Plays Monterey & Shake! Otis at Monterey are now available separately.
Set
over a beautiful mid-June weekend in 1967, California’s Monterey
International Pop Festival pulled together a high-profile slate of
musicians that included Janis Joplin, Simon and Garfunkel, the Who (who
provide a destructive set), Ravi Shankar, the Mamas and Papas, Hugh
Masekela and, of course, Hendrix and Redding (more on them below). The
action is captured by Pennebaker in his trademark unpretentious, vérité
style, and though shot in 16mm and not always informed by the same
angles and close-ups that are a staple of today’s filmed rock shows,
the footage remain as riveting as ever, as much for its mash-up of mood
as anything else. Though it often reflects the zeitgeist in a
particularly of-the-moment fashion, great music also taps into
universal feeling and the deeper human desire for expression, and Monterey Pop wonderfully shows off plenty of this.
An audio commentary track on the disc by Pennebaker and festival
co-producer Lou Adler yields some interesting trivia (Shankar was the
only artist paid for performing, since he was booked before the
decision to make the festival a free benefit), and the above pair also
sit for interviews of reminiscence. Other interviews include festival
organizer John Phillips, performers Cass Elliot and David Crosby, and
festival publicist Derek Taylor, who affords us a unique perspective
not often given such behind-the-scenes chats. Further extras include a
pictorial essay by photographer Elaine Mayes, the feature’s original
theatrical trailer and radio spots, and a scrapbook.
Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding would both achieve dizzying heights in
the 1960s, pulling music in interesting new directions before being
taken too soon, and Jimi Plays Monterey & Shake! Otis at Monterey
can’t help but remind us of this loss. Each arrived at the Monterey Pop
Festival virtually unknown. Returning stateside from London, where he
had moved to launch his career, Hendrix exploded onstage, flooring an
unsuspecting audience with his hand-grenade riffs and maniacal
six-string pyrotechnics. (Despite the prevalent image of the time being
an orgiastic, drug-fed love-in, the audience here frequently sits
passively and politely, an amusing counterpoint to some of the
boisterous music.) Hendrix’s set includes “Can You See Me?,” “Purple
Haze,” a cover version of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (said
to be Paul McCartney’s favorite ever cover of a Beatles tune), “Foxy
Lady,” “Hey Joe” and a funky pass at Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling
Stone,” but it would be show-closer “Wild Thing,” in which he
infamously set his guitar ablaze and dry-humped a nearby speaker, that
would lift him to superstardom and become the iconic image of him.
Redding, an up-and-coming star of Memphis’ Stax label, seduced the
“love crowd” in one of his best shows, and unfortunately one of his
last. Six months later, before his Monterey-inspired “(Sittin’ on the)
Dock of the Bay” topped the charts, he would die in a plane crash along
with four members of his regular touring band, the Bar-Kays. (Hendrix
would pass three years later in London, of a drug overdose.) At
Monterey, Redding laid down a six-song sprint, comprised of “Shake,”
“Respect,” “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long,” “(I Can’t Get No)
Satisfaction” and “Try a Little Tenderness,” which, with all due
respect to Taylor Hicks’ “Soul Patrol,” is still far and away the
definitive version of the tune.
This bifurcated disc, presented in a regular Amray snap-case, includes an audio commentary track on the
Jimi Plays Monterey
portion with music historian Charles Shaar Murray that is perfectly
balanced between the effusive and intrusive.
It sheds great light on
painter Denny Dent’s magnificent spray-paint evocation of Hendrix under
the roiling opening credits crawl of “Can You See Me?” (of which
Pennebaker lost visual footage), but can distract you during other
parts of the set itself. Also included is an excerpt from interview
with Pete Townshend. The Redding portion of the disc, meanwhile,
features a new essay by David Fricke, trailers for each segment and
two
audio commentaries with music critic and historian Peter Guralnick —
one a song-by-song analysis and one reflecting more on Redding in
general. There’s also a great 18-minute interview with Phil Walden,
Redding’s manager for eight years, in which he talks about his own
interest in soul and blues music and describes the “blind faith” he and
Redding had in one another. It’s double-barreled music history, both of
these Monterey Pop discs, and it’s utterly fascinating.
B+ (Movies) A- (Discs) 
