Wattstax is
a 1973 documentary about the concert of the same name that took place in the
Los Angeles Coliseum in August 1972 to commemorate the Watts riots of 1966 that
served to give White American society notice that the Blacks were not the
contented, happy-go-lucky folk of White imagination.
Quite a lot
of the dialogue in the movie is about the position of Black people in American society
after those riots, which were replicated in other parts of the US such as Detroit,
and the conclusion is that some things have improved, some have degenerated and
some have stayed the same.
Stax
Records, the premier independent soul music label of the Sixties and early
Seventies, obviously thought the riots worth celebrating anyhow, even if it
were only a publicity stunt for its artists.
I remember
seeing the double album of music from the event at Sygma Records and always
kind of yearned to own it, though my main interest was in the inclusion of
Albert King amongst the artists who performed and not so much the other acts
who were only names to me. It seems that the acts that played at the event were
those Stax acts that had hits at the time, hence the flavour of the festival as
one big PR exercise, despite the presence of the Reverend Jesse Jackson as MC.
I have now
watched the movie and I must say I am not unhappy anymore that I never owned
the album of the event because by and large the brand of Seventies pop soul
funk on display ain’t my cup of tea, smacking too much of major show business
enterprise and not so much of the deep soul grit of the Sixties soul acts on
the Stax label. Perhaps it is a sign of the increasing sophistication of the
genre or just the overwhelming pop ambition of the label that had to have
commercial success in order to survive, but the music in the movie is curiously
flat and seems to lack energy.
There are
parallels to the Woodstock movie though Woodstock celebrated White counter
culture and not a race riot. Woodstock took place in the verdant countryside
and Wattstax took place in an urban environment, which is probably a pretty apt
comparison of the diverging worldviews of the respective groups.
One somewhat
sardonically amusing similarity is the contrasting scenes of stage
construction. In the Woodstock movie a team of hippie carpenters erect a
massive wooden stage in the bucolic scenic beauty of upstate New York. In
Wattstax, White, longhaired construction workers erect scaffolding for the
stage in the middle of a football field.
The most
obvious difference is that there are no hippies and no White hip, groovy
cultural reference in Watts. Musical performances are separated by scenes of
mostly a group of Black guys, and some women, discussing the experiences of
their life and some scenes of a Richard Pryor routine on his experiences of
Black life. Basically, being Black in the USA is not a particularly wonderful
experience if you are on the wrong side of White ire. Then, also, the Black males are kind of
bragging on themselves and the Black women, although one or two praise Black
men, have a much more cynical attitude towards their men than the men would
appreciate.
None of this
is new to me now; I’ve read enough about the Black experience in the USA and
have seen enough documentary material that echoes and repeats the same kind of things.
In a way these opinions almost seem scripted, as if the speakers are acting out
a stereotype of Black male views, at least from that time. Another example of this is the various views
on blues. When blues are defined, the definition is the over familiar one. The
young dudes are not interested in the blues anymore; the older men still have a
fondness for the music of their youth.
The most
interesting and intriguing aspect of the movie, for me anyhow, and in the light
of watching quite a bit of documentary material of Black cultural life in the
late Sixties and early Seventies, is of the fashions in clothes and hairstyles
prevailing at the time. Forty years later Black, or now African-American,
fashion has a completely different look than the old-school dandyism and
Afri-centric looks of the time. The men wear big hats, and some of those hats
are seriously big, and flared trousers, sleeveless vests, polo necks, suede jackets,
Africanised loose coats, and so on. The hair is big, majorly big. The “natural,”
more commonly known as the Afro, is the reigning style of the young and hip. It
may be that the filmmaker selected as many Afro wearing interviewees as
possible, but ii is palpably, abundantly clear that the Afro was a hairstyle of
choice amongst the younger generation where the older generation stuck with the
familiar derivations on the “process” and similar. I must confess, especially
on young beautiful Black women, that the Afro is a sexy style, that huge round bush of hair that much have
been a bitch to style in the mornings after you got out of bed. I would imagine
that the African nature of the style was as mythical as many of the Black
yearnings for the home continent where Blacks may have been free but not
necessarily prosperous, but the visual impact of it particularly in the street
scenes of Watts, does give the otherworldly effect, a differentiation from
White society, that was intended by the style and the general ;philosophy and ideology
of Africanistion that emerged after the Watts riots with Black power and
increasing awareness of African-Americans as a people with a history and a
culture that went far beyond the distorted White imposed culture of slavery
days.
The movie
concentrates on the street life of Watts and for this reason it seems that it
was not a very upmarket neighbourhood, or even simply middle class. The streets
look congested, the building somewhat faded away and dilapidated. Watts is a place time forgot and this is why
the riots happened and seven years later it does indeed seem that not much has changed. The various
speakers, many of whom hang out in a barbershop, are not identified and one
does not know what they do for a living; for all the viewer knows, these
articulate people are artists in their own right or maybe they live on welfare.
They talk street. They must be from the
street.
As a primer
on Black consciousness and expression in Watts in 1972 the movie succeeds to a
degree. As a documentary of the music, it does not have much power. Most of the
acts get one tune apiece. Only the Staple Singers, Rufus Thomas and Isaac
Hayes, the headliner of the event, are afforded more than that single solitary song in the movie. This is why
there is little sense of a lively, vibrant and exciting musical celebration. The
emphasis seems to be on the narrations of Black experience rather than the music. The blues is discussed
a little bit but otherwise the talking heads have no comments on the artists
appearing at the Stax event or even the event itself, as if the interviews were
conducted for a different reason altogether.
I am
satisfied that I’ve seen the movie at last. Unlike Woodstock, though, Wattstax
is not a movie I’ll watch over and over again. There is too little music and
the non-musical interludes are not interesting enough to bear repeating. Wattstax
is a sociological and ethnological record of a time and a place and is
invaluable for that. It can be research material for a treatise on
African-American thought and discourse of the times and, perhaps in a
peripheral way, be s frozen moment in time of Black popular music. It is not
very entertaining at all and for a movie celebrating soul music, that is a big
let down and a serious flaw.