Candidates for the National Film Registry:
The Wild One and Gimme Shelter
(Editor's note: For an intellectually-stimulating reply to
Ms. Lund's provocative lecture,
see the written response from Stanley Goldstein, whom the film's credits list as providing "Special Help" on "Gimme Shelter")
Introduction by Karen Lund
In 1953, a film was made showing the horrific violence a motorcycle gang
subjected to a town in one night. Seventeen years later, an even more
horrific scene of killing and bloodshed was shown on screen, but this
time it wasn't make-believe. It was the real murder of a young black
man, and the Rolling Stones were singing back-up. Violence is essentially
what The Wild One and Gimme Shelter have in common--violence
involving motorcycle gangs. But more than that, both films concern themselves
with questions of moral responsibility.
The Wild One, made in 1953 and directed by Laslo Benedek,
features the legendary Marlon Brando who somehow makes the incoherent
mumblings of a leather-jacketed hoodlum seem profound. The film was
based on an incident which occurred on the fourth of July in 1947 in
Hollister, CA, when a motorcycle gang terrorized the town. This could
happen in your town, too, seemed to be the surface message of the film.
Indeed, the Film Daily review commented that the film was
a "frequently frightening study of unhampered rowdyism by a collection
of marauding, up-to-no-good types given over to terrorizing decent
citizenry of a small community." While by today's standards, Brando's
gang appears to be little more than obnoxious beatniks, the threat
to society by these disaffected youths seemed very real at the time
in Eisenhower America. In fact, the film was banned for 14 years in
England, since it was feared that the film would give youths ideas
on how to brutalize the public. Ironically, only 2 years after the
ban was lifted, the violence that was always suspected to be lurking
out there was brought vividly and horrifyingly to the screen at Altamont.
Gimme Shelter was to chronicle a tour of the United States
in 1969 by the Rolling Stones, the so-called bad boys from England.
As a kind of "thank you" to America, the Stones planned to host a free
concert in San Francisco. Unable to locate a venue, the concert was
finally set at Altamont Speedway with little planning or foresight.
Mick Jagger extolled their hopes for the concert in the film, saying, "It
sets an example to the rest of America, as to how one can behave in
nice gatherings."
The film was to be directed by David and Albert Maysles and Charlotte
Zwerin. The Maysles brothers were known for what they called "direct
cinema" which utilized the techniques of fictional films to shape the
reporting of actual events. This type of nonfiction filmmaking relied
heavily on editing to form the context and structure of the film.
The Stones hired the Hell's Angels for security partly on the recommendation
of the Grateful Dead. The Stones had also used Hell's Angels for security
at a free concert in Hyde Park without problem, little realizing that
the American Hell's Angels were much more riotous and prone to excessive
drug use. In the guise of instilling order, the Angels used pool cues
to beat the audience and threw full beer cans at them. The Rolling
Stones' road manager decided that moving the Angels closer to the stage
might settle the rowdy Angels down, and bought the Angels' beer for
$500, moving it next to the stage, thus, the origin of the legend that
the Angels were paid in beer. The stage was only a foot above the audience
which made security even more difficult. Things started to get violent
during the Jefferson Airplane's set. Singer Marty Balin objected to
the way the Angels were acting and got knocked out by one. By the time
the Stones got on stage, fights were appearing all over the crowd.
As Sympathy for the Devil started playing, the Angels got into a fight
with 18-year-old Meredith Hunter, who, when he pulled out a gun, was
stabbed to death by the Angels in front of the camera. By this point,
the Stones were playing Under My Thumb, and were valiantly trying to
calm the audience, aware that some disturbance was occuring, but not
realizing that someone had been killed. Three other deaths occurred
at Altamont that day: 2 people in sleeping bags were run over, and
one person drowned in a puddle. The magazine Rolling Stone reported, "Even
the most incomplete medical reports show that this was a festival dominated
by violence."
The event served to contribute to the Satanic image of the Rolling
Stones that many had, especially since the worst part of the tragedy
seemed to begin during their song Sympathy for the Devil. The incident
caused the Stones to stop playing the song in concert for years afterwards.
The resulting film of the events provoked controversy. Variety wrote:
The film's preoccupation with events at Altamont raises
serious moral and ethical questions regarding the exploitation of
human tragedy that will not be ignored by critics and some factions
of the public. By promising and delivering footage of a murder and
by framing and structuring the film to build suspense around the
event, the filmmakers have played their trump in a manner many may
find inexcusably callous.
The New York Times wrote that the film "really uses its
brightly colored footage to whitewash the Rolling Stones, who must
share some of the responsibility for the disaster and who also, as
it happens, are the people who hired the filmmakers and controlled
the rights to whatever film they produced." Indeed, the film lingers
over the actual murder, replaying the footage in slow motion before
the shocked Rolling Stones.
Filmmaker Albert Maysles commented, "[The cameraman] was still on
a staging far enough away that he couldn't have prevented the murder,
couldn't have controlled that in any way whatsoever. But anyway, we've
got that footage, we're using it in the film. Isn't that the grossest
kind of exploitation? People will ask it, they have asked it, and it
never occurred to me as that." (G. Roy Levin, Documentary Explorations,
p. 291)
One of the main questions, then, that both films raise is the issue
of moral responsibility. In The Wild One, it criticizes the
lack of responsibility taken by the gang members for their rampage
through town. The film raises questions such as whether Brando's character's
actions have set in motion events that have resulted in someone's death.
And what of the moral responsibility of the town sheriff, who is willing
to sit by and drink alcohol, powerless to stop an angry lynch mob of
citizens from attacking Brando? Furthermore, there are the town residents
who form their own posse above the law, perpetuating the same violence
of which they accuse the gang members. But in The Wild One,
these moral dilemmas reside in a fictional place.
In Gimme Shelter, they are altogether too real. To what
degree is the moral responsibility held by the Rolling Stones for the
deaths of four people, most particularly that of Meredith Hunter? What
of the responsibility of the Hell's Angels for the horrific violence
they perpetuated on an unruly mob? What of the responsibility of the
filmmakers who have packaged together a sickening sequence of death
for all the world to see for profit? And what of us, who come to see
this orgy of violence and tragedy? Are we not culpable in the spread
of violence when a tragedy occurs and we all stop to stare?
Both of these films ask us to reexamine what we think we know about
violence. They ask us to survey the savagery inside us all, and we are
revealed to be more brutal than we thought possible.
These films have been nominated as candidates for the National Film
Registry. The National Film Registry contains films which are "culturally,
historically, or aesthetically significant" to America. Why add The
Wild One or Gimme Shelter to the list? Of course, we
can point to Marlon Brando and Lee Marvin's impressive performances,
among others, in The Wild One. We can point to the fact that
Brando's character in The Wild One has become an popular icon
for the ages, thus demonstrating the film's significance. We can laud
the performance of the Rolling Stones, truly masters of their craft,
along with those of Jefferson Airplane and Tina Turner in Gimme
Shelter. We can point to the effect of rock music and the events
of Altamont on American culture, thus making the film of historical
significance. But perhaps the strongest reasons are because of the
questions both raise about the moral culpability of all of us, and
because these films dare to raise the questions.
Karen Lund is the digital conversion specialist for the National
Digital Library Program in the Library's Motion
Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division. Ms. Lund holds
an M.A. in Cinema Studies and a graduate certificate in Museum Studies
from New York University, and has written several essays on early
film for the Library's World Wide Web site and other LC written publications.
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