Editor's Note: One of the groundbreaking
musical documentaries was the 1973 film Wattstax.
The film introduced a generation of young people to the talents of a number of
African-American artists. We asked the film's director, Mel Stuart, to reflect
on the challenges of turning the filming of a concert into a documentary
"A
soulful expression of the living word" - that was the aim of a documentary I
set out to direct 27 years ago.
Wattstax
was originally conceived as a film of a concert commemorating the fifth
anniversary of the Watts riots. The event was a concept of Al Bell, president of
Stax records, who teamed up with Wolper Productions to secure funding from
Columbia Pictures. At the time, Stax records could call upon some of the
greatest names in gospel, blues and soul music such as the Staple Singers, Isaac
Hayes and Johnny Taylor. The event also drew political activists including a
young and relatively unknown Jesse Jackson. This lineup attracted 80,000 people
to the L.A. Coliseum. I realized from the start that the best and only way for
the film to reflect the black experience was to call upon the expertise and
guidance of African-Americans like historian Larry Shaw and associate producer
Forest Hamilton. In addition, I used predominately black film crews to cover the
concert and the filming that followed.
The
event was scheduled to run from noon to eight o'clock at night. Accordingly, a
construction crew came to the L.A. Coliseum at the conclusion of a pro football
game the night before and set up a stage in the middle of the field. Early the
next morning construction was finished and we set up the main cameras and sound
equipment. John Alonzo was the supervising cinematographer. By midday we were
ready to start filming.
During
the concert things went smoothly. The acts performed brilliantly, the camera and
sound coverage was first rate. Twelve documentary crews wandered through the
crowd getting reaction shots. We started editing the film and found, early on,
that what we had was ... a "concert film." To me, that is not what a
documentary is about. A concert film is glorified reportage even when produced
with style. It certainly was not a full reflection of the black experience.
Larry
and Forest and I began to plan how we could expand the concept. Luckily, some of
acts were unable to show up on the day of the concert which enabled us to take
the music into the community itself. In the weeks that followed, we filmed
Johnny Taylor in a funky night club, The Emotions bringing a gospel song to a
small church, and Little Milton singing a fantastic blues number by the railroad
tracks in the shadow of the Watts Towers. The reality of the location
performances added a vital dimension to the overall presentation. That was a
good start, but more was needed.
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Next,
we decided to hear how people felt about the music. This led to improvised
interviews with dozens of men and women that touched on every facet of the
African-American experience. Film crews were sent into the streets, churches,
barber shops and diners to talk with people about the connection between music
and their existence and what it was like to be black in a white America. To this
day, when I screen the film, I am awed by the wit, poetry and understanding of
the reality of their situation that came forth from the people in the community.
As a reflection of their viewpoint and of the times, there is one particular
moment in the film which I found remarkable: a young woman sang The
Star-Spangled Banner at the beginning of the concert, and as I looked
at the enormous audience I saw that no one stood up during the song.
I
felt we still needed one more element - something similar to the "chorus"
in Shakespeare's Henry
the Fifth. We needed someone who could give an overall view of the
African-American experience. Forest Hamilton suggested I go with him to a small
club to see a young comedian named Richard Pryor. The next night we returned to
the club with a film crew and after his show recorded two hours of extraordinary
improvised insightful comedy. This was the glue we needed to hold the film
together.
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When
the editing was nearly finished, I was suddenly hit with a production problem
that has become the bane of producers today - acquiring music rights. I
received a call from MGM telling me that I couldn't use a sequence in which
Isaac Hayes sings his hit song "Shaft." There was a disagreement about
publishing rights and Jim Aubrey, then president of MGM, would not listen to my
pleas for a settlement. I was devastated! I had hoped to conclude the film with
Isaac Hayes singing "Shaft"
to 80,000 people at night in the Coliseum. There was no alternative but
to have John Alonzo assemble a crew and shoot a different song on a sound stage
with Isaac Hayes and his backup group. We combined the footage with various
shots of the crowd and incorporated it into the film. (With the special effects
available today, it would probably be much easier.) As a documentary filmmaker,
it bothered me to create a non-event, but it was more important to end the film
on a triumphant note.
The documentary was quite successful when it appeared in theaters at the time, and
over the years has become somewhat of a cult film for African-American
audiences. Unfortunately, because of, need I say, music rights problems, it has
not been shown in a major venue on television or released as a video. Hopefully,
someday, the rights problems will be cleared and this portrait of a particular
time and a community will reach a wider audience.
Mel
Stuart has just finished a feature documentary called Running
on the Sun. Several weeks ago an African-American record
companycalled Soulife asked Mr. Stuart to produce an updated version of Wattstax which
would reflect the changes in the African-American community over the past 30
years.
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