"The age of innocence that was the sixties ended, it is often said, at Altamont Speedway, miles from the peace and love of San Francisco, one cold fall evening in 1969. The Rolling Stones, frustrated to have missed out on the Woodstock festival weeks earlier, chose this location to stage their own festival, and taking advice from Jerry Garcia, brought in local Hells Angels chapters to handle security, paying them with as much beer as they could drink. The concert was a disaster, and ended with manslaughter. The documentarian brothers Albert and David Maysles were there to film the run-up to the event, the performance itself, and the aftermath. Mick Jagger has never looked so lost onstage, nor would he be quite so out of control again. Strangely, it seemed only to fuel the Stones’ rise to power—but then, the Beatles were about to call it a day. Essential viewing for anyone who loves contemporary music and the culture that surrounds it."

"I love, love, love this film. From the opening credits, with the sunflowers and jump cuts, to the sociopathically ruthless ending, Varda keeps me on her hook. This film represents my worst nightmare vision of the world. Its characters are, for me, the most terrifying types in existence: people so saturated with complacency and narcissism that they are blithely amoral in their pursuit of more and more joy. At the end, when François and his new wife/childcare-provider walk off in their matching autumn-colored sweaters, I’m on the floor in a fetal position. There are a lot of little gifts in the film to help counteract the trauma: the dissolves to primary colors, the jump cuts, the woman in a red dress kissing the man hello in the café, the bright green drink on the table. The Renoir-inspired design and peppy Mozart score make the nightmare pop in an unsettling way."