Glastonbury

Glastonbury feels a lot like a home wedding video: If you were there, watching it back will probably be a fantastic experience. If not, expect to struggle in places.

The movie is a mix of music, background events and smiley faces in silly costumes. While the smiley faces are important if you intend to create a sense of the atmosphere, two hours of this starts to drag. As you might expect, there is a fair bit of music, although inevitably only a tiny proportion of all the acts that have appeared at the festival over the years. Some clever production techniques are used, such as mixing performances from different years together, and using specific songs to provide a narrative to other festival scenes.

But this subtle narrative is about all there is to guide the uninitiated through the movie. This might be acceptable for the music, but not the interviewees. The movie seems to revel in this to the point of arrogance: Early on, it includes a scene in which the organiser, Michael Eavis, is talking to festival goers who have no idea who he is - much like me at that point in the movie.

Background events and history are covered, but not very well explored. Genuinely interesting themes, such as the involvement of travellers and the growing commercialisation of the festival, are dealt with rather too quickly. There is a lot of social history here, which could have made this quite a challenging documentary. But perhaps if Glastonbury had covered these fully, I would be bemoaning the lack of music or complaining it didn't convey a festival atmosphere?

Glastonbury is special, a festival you can go to where the sum is greater than all the parts, where the lunacy of the some of the punters is as essential a part as the headline acts a festival you can lose yourself in.

As a Glasto veteran from 1981 until the present I was fascinated by what this film would show, would it reflect the nature, feel and fun of Glasto, would it portray the worst with the best, most of all would you get a feel for the magic of it and would a veteran be transported back there for a couple of hours.

This film succeeds on all counts. Beautifully edited with a soundtrack including as wide a range of the music as has been encountered in Michael Eavis' fields I did indeed feel transported.

It manages to reflect all the essential elements, the people and the lunacy, the beauty, the sounds, the sights and even the smells of Glastonbury.

It tells the history accurately with no punches pulled. It shows the terrible mud and floods as well as the beautiful in one scene of a trapeze artist suspended under a balloon.

It captures the spirit of Glastonbury Festival.

A magnificent achievement.

Unfortunately, I've never been to Glastonbury myself; and it is for people like me that this documentary fails. The tone of the film is aimed far more towards people that can remember the event themselves, and there isn't a great deal to learn for people like myself that have never been. I saw this film with some people that had been to Glastonbury; and they informed me that the film doesn't even show the best bits of the festival, as while director Julien Temple is busy showing us, over and over again, that the festival suffers from gatecrashers; he completely forgets about many of the events other than the live bands, and the true festival atmosphere never really shines through. Going into this film, I was hoping to see some of the great acts that have performed at Glastonbury; and audiences get treated to performances from great acts such as Radiohead, The Prodigy, Massive Attack, David Bowie and an excellent rendition of 'Waterloo Sunset' by Ray Davies, while having to suffer through drivel such as Morrisey, Coldplay and Björk...it's a real mixed bag, which could suit a range of music fans - but the director cuts the performances with other pictures and sounds, and it completely spoils it. We barely get to hear a full song and it would seem that the more exciting the act, the less screen time it gets. Throw in a completely unneeded segment about the toilet facilities and what you have is a documentary about an interesting subject, made very dull. Most of my enjoyment from this film came from the hope that I'd hear a band that I like soon; and most of the time I didn't. Shame really.

Americans have never heard of Glastonbury. That may seem surprising to our British friends, but neither myself nor any fellow "Yank" I've ever spoken to had any idea of what it was. To all my fellow Americans out there, let me explain: It's the greatest kept secret in all of Britain. We don't know about it because there is no way for anyone to make any money telling Americans about it. The only way I can describe Glastonbury is "Woodstock, but cool...I mean really, really cool." I kept saying as I watched this film, I wish it were longer. First of all, as a rock film, it's better than any concert film you can name (even though we Americans only knew maybe 20% of the bands in the film). Better than Live Aid. Better than Live 8. Better than Knebworth. (Unfortunately, we can't see every performance in its entirety because there are so many of them.) And the fascination extends beyond the musical performances. It's a wonderful historical document, showing the evolution of British pop, from classic rock to punk to new wave to industrial to whatever they call today's music. Plus you get an look at the fashions and zeitgeist of each music. Hippy's to bikers to (what we Americans call) lot-scammers. Glostonbury shows nakedness, drugs, mud, music and chaos on a biblical scale, often times on the stage itself. It defies explanation. You can only see it to believe it. Woodstock happened only once. This goes on every summer, and the music doesn't suck. It's a crowning achievement for rock cinema and rock history. I've always wondered why the best rock comes from Britain. This film offers a clue. After the film was over, I walked out of the theater and wanted a hit of acid or a stiff drink. I wanted to smash a window and streak down the street. I wanted to light a fire, quit my job and join a rock band, renounce all my worldly possessions and grow out my hair. I wanted to stand up and cheer because this is a classic film. I didn't do any of those things, except the later, because I'm not a moron; but the film certainly conveys the liberating power of music and it's capacity to free the soul. I am so amazed that the Glastonbury festival even exists in this modern age of the puritanical War on Drugs. It couldn't exist in America. I'm glad it does exist, and I'm glad that this film exists because Bachanalia is no longer valued. It is seen as a threat, as a corruptive force rather than a liberating rite of passage. It is an experience everyone should have at least once in their life, and should the day come when the 'Forces that Be' close Glastonbury down, at least Temple's film will still be here to show future generations how wonderful life can be when lived with perfect unfettered collective freedom, (as Bowie says) "if just for one day."

As the King of all music festivals takes a break in 2006, Temple's documentary is the closest thing you can get to the Glastonbury experience this year. It charts the history of the event, but is formed in a way that recreates the feeling of three days of fun rather than simply following chronology.

Two hours and twenty minutes might seem a long time for a documentary, but as you're kept smiling most of the way through, it's not in the least overbearing. We are treated to a number of musical highlights, but just as entertaining is meeting some of the weird and wonderful people that make the festival so unique. Particularly memorable are the three-man family team who run the tanker that sucks the, aherm, human waste out of the portaloos – such are the moronic faces of the two children, they really could be characters from Little Britain!