After December 6, 1969, critics, pundits, and journalists rushed to declare that the '60swere officially dead.

Only four months after the peace and love generation had made perhaps their boldeststatement at the Woodstock music festival in New York, it all came crashing down on theopposite coast at the Alatamont Speedway where a free music festival headlined by theRolling Stones collapsed into chaos and death. If Woodstock has become the culturallymythological representation of the potential of the '60s youth movement, Altamont was itsinverse, the culturally mythological representation of how, in a single moment, it can all gowrong.

Yet, there is something too simplistic about such a dichotomy, especially in the tendencyto see Woodstock and Altamont as inverse mirrors of each other and to read the violence ofAltamont as the final nail in the coffin of the progressive '60s. Such a reading denies theessentially conflicted nature of the late 1960s in America, how progressive idealism,movements for civil rights, and new concepts of enlightenment coexisted side-by-side withurban unrest, rising street crime, political assassinations, and the war in Southeast Asiabeing piped into the family living room via the television. Altamont was not so much ashock to the system as it was the inevitable conclusion of one of the most turbulentdecades in modern American history, when the very identity of the nation was beingshaken at its foundation.

It is the dreadful sense of inevitability that haunts every frame of Gimme Shelter,the rightfully acclaimed documentary that chronicles the last 10 days of the Rolling Stones1969 American tour, including the Altamont concert. Directed by David and AlbertMaysles and Charlotte Zwerin, Gimme Shelter is much like the '60s itself: bothenthralling and incredibly disturbing.

The energy and vitality of the Rolling Stones as rock 'n' roll performers is undeniable--thefilm showcases the self-proclaimed "World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band" at their artisticand performative peak. Yet, in the second half of the film, when the cameras turn theirfocus on Altamont, even the power of the Rolling Stones is quickly engulfed anddisappears into the frenzy of violence around them. The same strutting vigor that madelead singer Mick Jagger a star in the first half of the film begins to look like a patheticattempt to ward off the inevitable at Altmont as he tries to interest the spectators in what'shappening on-stage, rather than the unrest in the crowd.

The Maysles brothers and Zwerin build Gimme Shelter in an extraordinarymanner by cutting back and forth between their documentary footage and later footage ofthe Rolling Stones in an editing room watching the rough outtakes of what will later becomethe film itself. The Maysles brothers and Zwerin knew that, going into theaters, audienceswould know what the outcome of the film would be. Discussions of the tragedy atAltamont had long since oversaturated the media, so its specter hangs over the entire film.

Thus, they open the film with the Stones performing a jubilant rendition of "Jumpin' JackFlash" at their penultimate concert at Madison Square Garden, then cut immediately to theband members sitting quietly in the editing room, watching the footage and listening torecorded radio broadcasts about Altamont. Their reactions are hard to read, but it isobvious that they are affected. What should have been their greatest moment turned intothe kind of infamy from which some never recover.

The first half of Gimme Shelter moves fluidly among several of the Stones'performances at Madison Square Garden, negotiations by their lawyer, Melvin Belli, to setup the Altamont concert, a Stones recording session, and the self-reflexive footage of themwatching themselves on a flatbed editing machine. All of this serves as a set-up for thesecond half of the film, which focuses exclusively on the Altamont concert.

In hindsight, it is too easy to recognize everything that would eventually go wrong withAltamont. As the scenes of Belli making phone calls and quickly setting up meetingsshows, the concert was rapidly and poorly organized, especially because the organizerswere forced to change venues at the last minute. With 300,000 people descending from allover the country, there was not adequate parking, it was scheduled on a cold Decemberday, and Altamont itself was far removed into the dusty, dry hills outside of San Francisco.And there was the decision to allow the Hell's Angels to provide security.

Apparently, the British Hell's Angels had earlier provided security at a free concert theStones had given in Hyde Park in London. Therefore, it didn't seem like such a questionableidea to invite the California Hell's Angels to do the same thing at Altamont. In fact, itturned out to be the biggest mistake of all.

Once the cameras turn on the Altamont concert, the presence of the Angels becomesoverwhelming. The documentary focuses on the entire day, showing the growing crowd andtheir antics, covering some of the early acts such as the Flying Burrito Brothers andJefferson Airplane. The whole time there is a growing sense of dread, even in the starkdaylight. It is hard to describe, but there is just something wrong. Although manyof the spectators appear happy and excited, others seem paranoid and agitated, strung outon bad acid and looking for trouble.

The documentary seems to indicate that what is wrong is the presence of the Hell's Angels.The camera continually finds itself trained on the bikers, especially on their leather jacketswith the Hell's Angel's insignia emblazoned on the back. Even when the Stones come onstage that night and begin their set, the Angels' presence dominates; the camera loses Jaggerover and over again to focus on those leather jackets. In one telling shot, the camera focuseson the hard gaze of a Hell's Angel glaring at Jagger who is singing, out-of-focus, in theimmediate foreground. It is the biker's gaze, rather than Jagger's, that captures and holds thecamera lens.

As most people know, the Altamont concert eventually degenerated into violence betweenthe Hell's Angels and the unruly members of the crowd. It started early, during JeffersonAirplane's set, when the Angels started fighting with members of the crowd and lead singerMarty Balin got caught up in the fight. It all comes to a head, though, when the Stonescome on stage.

Beginning with "Sympathy for the Devil," Jagger is unable to get through a single songwithout a scuffle breaking out in the front rows. He continually stops the music andimplores that crowd to "cool it." His peace-and-love rhetoric about being "brothers andsisters" is pathetically inadequate to deal with the situation that has been building for solong. The crowd, stretched out endlessly before the stage, which was so exhilarating atMadison Square Garden, has become ominous.

It all climaxes with the on-screen stabbing--captured on film completely by accident andalmost unnoticeable unless you know where to look--of an 18-year-old black man namedMeredith Hunter by one of the Hell's Angels. The camera captures only the first fleetingseconds of Hunter's death at the hands of the Angels, but it is enough. The moment isreplayed twice in Gimme Shelter as Mick Jagger watches it on the editingmachine, and co-director David Maysles slows down the scene so Jagger (and we) can seeexactly what happens.

It is a chilling moment in which a camera was in the right place at the right time, much likethe Zapruder film of Kennedy's assassination or George Holliday's video of Rodney Kingbeing beaten by the Los Angeles police. Its existence on film serves to make it more real tous, which is all the more apparent when we realize that three other people died at Altamontthe same night, yet it is Hunter's death, because it was forever captured on celluloid, thatwill always be associated with the concert.

When Gimme Shelter was first released theatrically, promoters tried to capitalizeon its shocking nature, billing the film as "The music that thrilled the world ... and thekilling that stunned it!" Yet, the documentary as a whole is about much more. Viewers whohad reveled in the documentary about Woodstock were dismayed at GimmeShelter and for good reason. It is a disturbing experience that is hard to forget.

Yet, like the '60s, it is a paradox, both a celebration and a condemnation. GimmeShelter is a powerful cinematic experience precisely because, without narration or anyother extradiegetic devices, it captures multiple aspects of its historical moment. There isboth joy and terror, excitement and disillusionment. To try to subjugate a historicalmoment like Altamont to any one reading is to deny its diverse potential, and GimmeShelter is the quintessential document of that moment precisely because it avoids thattrap.

©2000 James Kendrick