Alice's Restaurant

This excellent film was written by my late screen writing teacher Venable Herndon, but I saw it and fell in love with it long before I took his class.

It manages to be both good humored and effortlessly profound at the same time. The recruitment scenes are hysterically funny. I miss movies with this laid-back quality. A lot of people are adverse to this type of loose narrative structure, but since almost every flick and TV show has such a rigid structure why can't the rest of us have a couple of films to ourselves.

The final shot of Alice's Restaurant with all its beautiful ambiguity has affected me more than the final shot of the "Searchers" every time I've seen it. It manages to celebrate something and take it with a grain of salt at the same time. Hurrah for the director of photography!

A beautiful trip all round.

This movie is generally not highly regarded. Criticisms refer to the lack of plot or "aimlessness" and draw unfavourable comparisons with the song.

It is hardly ever appropriate to criticise a film by comparing it with the source from which it is derived. The film is a work in its own right, and it is no criticism to say that it is not like something else. There is no reason why a comic song should not be used as the basis for a tragic movie. The only such comparison that has any validity is one which uses the source work as a basis for demonstrating how a weakness in the derived work could have been avoided; or conversely, one which contrasts a virtue in the derived work with a corresponding deficiency in the source work.

On its own terms, "Alice's Restaurant" succeeds very well as a movie. The song on which it is based does no more than provide a sequence of events around which the movie is constructed. It is not a narrative; it is a portrait of a particular time and a particular section of American society. It meanders, but it is never tedious; there is always something interesting to see on the screen. It demonstrates how that section of society, or the representatives of it with whom the film is concerned, although rejecting many of the rules by which American society has historically been governed, nevertheless accepts that society's basic values and cannot avoid the consequences of the rejection of some of the rules. It is not a great movie, but it is a very good one.

I rate it as about 7.5 out of 10. The film that I find most similar to it is the French film "Round Midnight"; not because of its subject-matter, but because of its dreamy, unhurried mood.

Except for the bloody politician's war in Vietnam, I still have some affection for the '60's. The period was certainly a liberating experience from the uptight 1950's. However, viewed now apart from the hype of the time, Penn's movie has not worn well at all. It does convey something of the communal spirit of the day; plus the sweet-faced Guthrie has an appropriately congenial screen presence. But too many passages now seem pointlessly meandering, having lost whatever topicality they might have had. Another reviewer's comparison of the film with that of a home movie captures, I think, the basic flaw.

Nonetheless, the movie manages a couple of amusingly revealing episodes. It's no surprise for the '60's, that both have to do with authority run amok. First the cops go to absurd lengths to convict Guthrie of littering, of all things; then in the film's highpoint, the tyrannical army- processing center treats him like a criminal. Though done satirically, each represents a popularly rebellious attitude of the time. Then too, unlike the rest of the film, the impact here is structured for effect.

One other noteworthy point—it's no accident, I think, that it's a church the youngsters convert for their purposes. This can be understood as another subversion of authority by replacing the formal rules of authoritarian religion with those of the more easy-going humanism established by the communal restaurant. (At the same time, the sacramental wine of the former is replaced by a ceremonial joint that gets passed around.) Of course, without anything like formal rules, a downside is revealed once Alice ends up doing all the restaurant work, which the others happily shirk.

The ending remains something of a puzzle. I take the forlorn bride (Alice) as a comment on the Hollywood cliché of 'they lived happily ever after'. Shrewdly, Penn doesn't want to leave us with the impression that a hippie ethic solves all social problems. Anyway, seeing the movie now, I realize how far into obscurity it has sunk after the big splash it made on initial release. For a much more entertaining and insightful glimpse of the period, check out Hal Ashby's mordant black comedy Harold and Maude (1972).

Those who write complaining that the movie isn't like the song are missing the point. The movie isn't about the song, nor is the movie supposed to be based around the song. The movie merely includes the song - and some events in Arlo Guthrie's life in the 1960s. Get over the fixation about the song and you might begin to see what the movie is about.

Alice's Restaurant is about life and loss, and the traps we allow ourselves to get caught up in. It's about addiction, youth, anarchy, death, and aimlessness. It's a celebration and a lament for all those things.

As most students of 1960s filmmaking are aware, "Alice's Restaurant" was director Arthur Penn's unsuccessful follow-up to "Bonnie and Clyde." It was based on -- or rather inspired by -- a good idea: Arlo Guthrie's famous autobiographical song, which told the humorous and ironic tale of two run-ins with the "establishment," as we used to say, during a Thanksgiving in Stockbridge, Mass., and a subsequent draft board examination in New York City.

Thirty-three long years later, seeing this cultural artifact from the late '60s is less like watching a story unfold than stepping into a time machine. The good, bad and tragic aspects of that turbulent era are all represented here, and the past -- as observed from our tainted and narcissistic age of SUVs, AIDS and the Internet -- seems positively innocent. And -- with a few obvious exceptions -- idyllic.

The 1960s may have been a tumultuous era, but those years embodied one crucial concept sorely missing from today's society: youthful idealism. Way back when -- before a six-figure salary became the college student's holy grail, when saving the world was more important than earning a law degree -- young people were actually passionate -- about freedom, about peace, about the long- term prospects for humanity. If that passion has not completely vanished, it has certainly been redirected -- and not, in my view, toward a positive or productive end.

Whether Penn's film works or not as a cinematic adaptation of Guthrie's song, whether it successfully mixes deadpan humor (hippies vs. bureaucratic clods) with tragedy (the dark side of drug use) seems almost irrelevant now. The movie succeeds in capturing a remarkable moment in time, a short period when the future may have been uncertain, but there was still a brilliant ray of sunshine at the end of the tunnel -- and a youthful force propelling us toward it.

The hippie movement may have been naive, but it was a movement nonetheless, and a positive form of rebellion. As seen in the film, young people often used the word "peace" instead of "goodbye" -- not just as a pleasant sentiment at the end of a conversation, but as a serious reminder of what was important -- that nothing was more vital than global, harmonious accord, to "live as one." That spirit may have died with John Lennon; it may have left this Earth with Jerry Garcia. In any case, it's pretty much gone now, and already -- except, perhaps, within a few small, nostalgic circles -- nearly forgotten.

Today, the concepts of "peace" and "love" seem hopelessly quaint. The era of Flower Power has long since passed, and most young people would readily agree that All You Need is Cash -- the majority of them knowing infinitely more about money markets than peaceful coexistence. Teenagers who once joined together to enjoy music, freedom and a sense of community (Woodstock) have been replaced by a disenfranchised generation who angrily rape, steal and burn (Woodstock '99). Somewhere along the line, the hopeful enthusiasm of folk music and rock'n'roll gave way to the fury of punk, rap and hip-hop. Freeform artistic expression (Prog-Rock, Pop Art, tie-died clothes, experimental filmmaking) was discarded in favor of nihilism and self-mutilation (Industrial/ Goth-Rock, Heavy Metal, piercings and tattoos). The ray of hope faded. "Make Love, Not War" degenerated into "Show Us Your Tits." The "us" decade ('60s) became the "me" decade ('70s). And now -- God help us -- we are firmly entrenched in what surely would've made the founding fathers wish they'd never been born: the"whatever" century.

This apathetic new millenium has ushered in not a glorious Odyssey of space exploration or a Brave New World of modern medicine -- but terrorism, fear, ignorance and intolerance. Politically, Ashcroft's medical marijuana raids and "President" Bush's environmental atrocities likely cause even die-hard liberals to fondly recall the days of Tricky Dick! Who could have ever imagined?!

And so "Alice's Restaurant" is another tragic arrow through our empty, modern- day heart -- a damning reminder of just how low this country has sunk, how far a nation of bloodless, soulless opportunists has strayed from the garden. Think of it! Once, this country poured its life blood into electing leaders who would end war and famine; now, we waste millions trying to impeach them for receiving blow jobs.

Jim Morrison was 35 years ahead of his time. The '60s -- in retrospect -- was the beginning. And this, now, is the end.

Peace.