FILM OF THE WEEK: Willie Nelson's 4th of July Celebration

Willie Nelson's 4th of July Celebration
Directed by Yabo Yablonski
1979, 100 minutes, USA
(screening July 3, 4 at Anthology Film Archives)

To a central Texan, celebrating Independence Day means more than fireworks, BBQ, baseball games and parades, as this weekend marks the 37th year of aging outlaw-country legend Willie Nelson's "4th of July Picnic," a laid back and Southern-fried Lollapalooza that this former Austin-based writer once attended in the late '90s.

Over three days in 1974, a reported 25,000 turned out in College Station for the second annual extravaganza, a dirty, shadelessly sun-assaulted, Lone Star beer-soaked (and sponsored!), marijuana-smoky affair that was filmed but rarely screened. Woodstock may be the countercultural touchstone of the era, but the mysterious Yabo Yablonski's chilled-out concert movie is the more mesmeric drug, better encapsulating an entire subculture of regional hippiedom and music. (To think, Willie and company's tunes would be labeled "alt-country" if newly released today.)

Far younger than the avuncular old stoner in braids he's become beloved for, the Red Headed Stranger kicks off his onscreen set with a rousing "Whisky River," but later sets the tone with the crowd: "Is everybody loaded? Great, cuz we are, too!" Feelin' groovy behind a pair of sunglasses, he floats around backstage when not performing, overseeing his friends' sets: There's a stoic Waylon Jennings, dedicating "Good-Hearted Woman" to Willie's then mother-in-law Helen Vela. Jerry Jeff Walker fronts the Lost Gonzo Band for "London Homesick Blues," which finely tuned ears will recognize as the long-time theme of PBS's Austin City Limits. Doug Kershaw, decked out like a dandy red-velvet Leprechaun, fiddles and hotfoots through "Diddy Diddy Lo," not only stealing the show but inspiring one free-lovin' lady to disrobe entirely and climb onstage after him. Yablonski throws her awkward bear hug into slo-mo, one of a handful of random stylizations (lens flares, fades to white) made endearing by their outmoded, kitschy place in far-out history.

In the crowd, more naked flesh gets exposed. Sweaty beer guts abound, and get a load of the hirstute bear in suspenders with a tallboy in one hand and a liter of booze in the other. Bare breasted women jiggle to the beat while sitting on men's shoulders—yes, a norm in such venues—but in one particularly creepy-funny moment, a topless girl shrugs off the fact that she can't keep nearby horndogs from copping feels from behind her back. Perhaps this is what happens when everybody is wasted out in the heat, and far more than Woodstock, the film offers a palpably relaxed feeling that's something like a cinematic contact high.

Or maybe that's just the hilarious, vicarious power of graying emcee Leon Russell (photo, left), whose heavy-lidded, open-shirted, suds-annointing, irksome-whispering, backup-warbling, story-rambling and microphone-hogging persona is omnipresent throughout the whole performance. Even as day turns to evening and the cameras begin to train more on the performers than the crowd (thankfully), Russell appears to be having more fun than anyone else at the Texas World Speedway. Hell, I wouldn't mind falling asleep to whatever he's on. Goodnight, Irene, I'll see you in my dreams.

[photo credit: Yabo Yablonski]

Posted by ahillis at July 1, 2010 6:42 AM