‘Taking Woodstock’

Your own private Woodstock.

That's the inspiration for "Taking Woodstock," Oscar-winning director Ang Lee's latest foray into the sometimes mysterious, always fascinating territory of the human heart.

It's a minor entry in Lee's impressively eclectic filmography, to be sure. But you can't really blame the guy for wanting to take a break from all the heavy lifting "Brokeback Mountain" and "Lust, Caution" required.

If anything, "Taking Woodstock" recalls Lee's earliest work with his longtime colleague, screenwriter-producer James Schamus.

In such movies as 1992's "Pushing Hands" and 1993's "The Wedding Banquet," Lee and Schamus explored generational -- and cultural -- clashes, between traditional Chinese and their Americanized offspring.

In "Taking Woodstock," the cultures may be different, but the clashes are pretty much the same, centering on an earnest, achingly dutiful son torn between making his old-world parents happy -- or following his own heart.

In "Taking Woodstock," adapted from Elliot Tiber's memoir, Elliot Teichberg (comedian Demetri Martin, wide-eyed and deadpan) is the devoted son, an interior designer who spends much of his time -- and even more of his income -- helping his dour, sour mother (Imelda Staunton, in mother-from-hell overdrive) and fading-fast father (British theater stalwart Henry Goodman, touchingly world-weary) keep their crumbling Catskills motel, the El Monaco, from utter collapse.

It's the summer of '69, and Elliott's also planning his usual fruitless efforts to promote the El Monaco's location in Bethel, N.Y., by hosting an annual cultural festival that consists mostly of him playing records to a few dozen attendees sitting on the motel's expansive -- and largely empty -- grounds.

Elliott needs a permit to stage the annual event -- which is hardly a problem, considering he chairs the local committee in charge of issuing such permits.

So when another nearby town withdraws its permission for a three-day music festival -- guaranteed to bring hundreds of rampaging, pot-smoking hippies to placid upstate New York -- Elliott remembers that he's got a permit for a festival. To say nothing of a music-loving neighbor, Max Yasgur (Eugene Levy), with a 600-acre dairy farm that would be perfect as a concert venue.

After all, the El Monaco's already got an avant-garde theater troupe in residence in the motel barn -- what harm could a few guitar-strumming musicians cause?

As the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.

As for what those in the audience get, the answer is: not necessarily what you'd expect. But "Taking Woodstock" delights in subverting such expectations.

Those expecting a movie that focuses on Woodstock's legendary musical component should break out the DVD copies of the Oscar-winning 1970 documentary "Woodstock."

That's because the characters in "Taking Woodstock" -- most of them, anyway -- operate on the fringes of the festival, far from the spotlight.

Some of them revel in the infectious spirit of peace, love and music -- from the organizers (Jonathan Groff, Mamie Gummer) to 6-foot-3 Vilma (Liev Schreiber, a standout in more ways than one), a pistol-packin' mama who used to be a U.S. Marine.

Some of them try, notably neighbor Billy (Emile Hirsch), who's still trying to adjust to civilian life following a traumatic tour of duty in Vietnam.

A few of Elliott's local colleagues appreciate the business the concertgoers have brought their way. Most of them, however, would prefer the damn dirty hippies take their business elsewhere -- and stop rubbing everyone's nose in counterculture filth.

But Elliott, suddenly surrounded by hundreds of people tuning in, turning on and proudly letting their freak flags fly, begins to wonder whether living his life according to his parents' expectations is any kind of life at all.

Throughout, Lee maintains a laid-back pace and an amused but non-judgmental attitude as "Taking Woodstock" ticks off essential moments (acid trip, check! mountains of mud, check!) from Elliot's off-stage perspective.

At times, Schamus' script meanders too much, as some seemingly pivotal characters -- notably Hirsch's Billy -- appear, then disappear, with disconcerting randomness.

Yet, in the larger context of "Taking Woodstock's" constantly shifting human mosaic, it all makes sense.

It doesn't always make an impact -- in part because Lee and Schamus lack the late, great Robert Altman's genius for blending multiple characters' individual story lines to create a tapestry greater than the sum of its interwoven parts. ("Nashville," anyone?)

Yet, as "Taking Woodstock" shows, there are half-a-million stories in the Woodstock Nation -- and the one it decides to explore provides perspective not only on its time and place, but on the timeless conflicts its central character confronts.

After all, bell bottoms and leather vests may not be the latest fashion, but movies about growing up and finding your place in the world will always be in style.

Contact movie critic Carol Cling at ccling@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0272.