Sundance 2021 Review: Summer of Soul (…or When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)

Summer of Soul (…or When the Revolution Could Not be Televised) (2021) is a documentary/concert film, directed by Amir-Kalib Thompson. Thompson, in case you didn’t know, is more commonly known as Questlove, one of the founding member of Philadelphia’s legendary hip-hop group, The Roots.

Every Sunday for six weeks in the summer of 1969, a free concert was put on in Mt. Morris Park, Harlem New York. Dubbed the Harlem Cultural Festival, the concert series featured a staggering number of amazing musical acts at the height of their prowess. Musicians and bands that appeared included, but was not limited to: Stevie Wonder, The 5^th Dimension, Hugh Masekela, B.B. King, Sly and the Family Stone, Nina Simone, Mahalia Jackson, The Staples Singers, David Ruffin, Ray Baretto, etc. The list goes on.

The late 1960s’ are memorable for an incalculable number of reasons. One of the most important was that the music festival as we know it today was coming into being. Woodstock became the most infamous of these festivals, but there were a bunch. The Monterey Pop Festival, the Isle of Wight Festival, the Altamont Free Concert all began of took place in the latter part of the decade. The Harlem Cultural Festival also occurred during this chapter of history, yet remains largely obscure compared to many of these other festivals.

A big part of why this festival hasn’t been as well remembered is that there was no accompanying concert film to enshrine it in its proper historical significance. This isn’t to say that the show was not filmed. However, while producer Hal Tulchin shot the entire thing, the majority of the footage remained mostly unseen. He tried to shop the footage around, but in one of the most critical of historical blunders, nobody was interested in using any of the footage.

That is, until now. Director Amir Thompson has unearthed Tulchin’s footage, remastered it beautifully, cut it together with some new interview footage as well as some archival stuff, and has given us a two-hour trip back in time to those sometimes rainy, sometimes sunny, six weekends in the summer of ’69. Six separate shows that were overstuffed with rhythm, blues, funk, gospel, and soul. Posterity, as well as current society can rejoice as this once-in-a-lifetime concert series is now available (at least in part) for the entire world to revel in.

In case my enthusiasm for this film didn’t come through in my synopsis, I happily admit I absolutely loved this film. I suppose I am slightly biased. I consider myself a music guy above all else. I love a lot of things in this life. I am often bummed because there is so much to experience and to love in life and I will never have enough time to love all of it. However, music has always been not only the art form I am most drawn to, it has also been one of the most powerful influences in my life, and frequently, my only friend when times have been at their darkest.

I suppose devotees of any art form could claim this, but for me, music is emotion made physical. How do you take a feeling, something that completely lacks any kind of physical embodiment, and turn it into something that can import those emotions into the hearts and/or minds of others? With music, that’s how. Music is in my opinion, the most vital of the arts, and regular consumption of it, both recorded and live, is one of the healthiest things a human can do for themselves.

Music has a power that few other things in this life have, in that it can communicate so much to so many people, and in a way that speaks more directly to the heart, transcending even language. Words and language utterly failing us humans as a species is something that we see far too often in this world. Music can cut through all that bullshit and speak directly to the heart; to one’s conscience.

This is a phenomenon that Summer of Soul captures wonderfully. The crowd in Mt. Morris Park is as much on display as the artists themselves in the film. This is important because while the focus is on the music (as it should be), any concert is an artistic communion between musician and audience. Without an audience, it wouldn’t really be a concert, would it? If a tree falls in the woods, or something like that, right?

There is some speculation in the film about why a film like Woodstock (Michael Wadleigh, 1970) would have so easily become a part of the popular consciousness, while a show like the Harlem Cultural Festival was relegated to obscurity. Its footage left to rot in some studio vault. I am not really qualified to opine in any way on this unfortunate circumstance. Although I can absolutely decry the inaccessibility of this piece of musical history as nothing short of criminal.

There are plenty of times in life when I bemoan the ubiquitous nature of today’s technology. However, in situations like this, the fact that we can record and preserve these performances for all to enjoy is a tremendous boon to human society. When music is performed, each performance is a unique, one-time-only thing. Even if a band plays the same song on every night of a tour, they never play it exactly the same twice, they are not in the same room twice, the crowd, and its energy are never the same twice, etc. Each and every concert is something that, once it happens, can never truly be replicated.

Thus, when you have an event such as the Harlem Cultural Festival, one with so many important and influential artists, all of them in the zenith of their excellence, you need to film it. You owe it to future generations to make sure that they can avail themselves of this transformative moment.

I had a relative who actually fought in World War II. He had experienced a lot of trauma during his service, and naturally was reluctant to talk about any of his wartime experiences. I had to respect his wishes, to press him and make him relive these events would have been selfish. However, now that he is gone, I get upset sometimes when I think about the knowledge that he took to his grave. Nobody other than him had his experiences, saw what he saw, endured what he endured. While it might have been selfish for me to demand he tell his stories to me in life, now that he is gone, I feel as if posterity has been robbed of his eyewitness testimonial; his personal account of history as it happened. So in when it comes to being able to preserve history in a way that nobody has to personally relive anything unless they want to, I’m all for it.

Which is the perfect segue into mentioning the interview clips and archival audio used in the film. There isn’t too much talking head footage getting in the way of the concert footage. In fact there is just enough. It is used quite poignantly, using the voices and reactions of the participants to highlight some of the emotions and experiences they had during the festival. Watching Marilyn McCoo of The 5^th Dimension tear up as she watches the footage for the first time since the event, and explaining how much it meant to her, and the band to be there, really hammers home just how important a performance it was.

For many, the standout moment of the film will be the sequence of Mavis Staples sharing the stage with Mahalia Jackson. And it is a powerful moment indeed. Both hearing the voice of Mavis Staples explain how profoundly she was impacted by sharing the stage with her idol, as well as the actual performance itself. I imagine there will be more than a few tears shed watching this moment unfold.

However, there were tons of standout moments in the film, especially for fans of music. Listening to David Ruffin sing the everlovin’ shit out of “My Girl” in a performance so good it almost puts the original recording to shame. If that were even possible. Experiencing the joy of The 5^th Dimension alongside them as they perform for a hungry audience that they weren’t sure would receive them well. Watching Stevie Wonder up on stage putting on a Goddamn clinic in the middle of a rainstorm. Seeing Sly and the Family Stone blowing minds, as they simultaneously blew down the doors of musical homogeneity. This isn’t even to mention the power of Nina Simone, who owns what might be the most moving section of the film. Even more so than Mavis and Mahalia (at least, for me). All of these moments are positively rapturous. You feel like you are a part of the audience for the entire duration of the film.

Which leads me to my one and only complaint about the film, which isn’t really a complaint at all. My beef is that I want the whole fucking show. Thompson has done such an incredible job of not only showcasing the backstory and the highlights of the show, but also communicating his love of music, and his dedication to his craft and its history, that the clips provided within the film just aren’t enough. Somebody needs to dig into the archives and put out a Blu-Ray set that compiles all of the performances across all six weekends. I’m sure negotiating the rights to all of that material would be a logistical and financial nightmare, but somebody with some clout and some capital needs to make this entire thing available for all of us. Criterion Collection, I’m looking in your direction and praying that you read my words, and heed my plea.

As someone who is already super-biased towards concert films, it was almost a given from the very start that this film would get a positive review out of me. However, I like to think that as predisposed to liking this kind of fare as I am, that if there were flaws or things I didn’t like, I would mention them. I didn’t see any of those.

Summer of Soul (…or When the Revolution Could Not be Televised) is a moving, vibrant, well-constructed documentary about an event that demands to be let out of the prison that it previously inhabited. The footage is sharp, colorful, and comprehensive. The stories told are powerful and personal. The history is too important to remain in the shadows. Most importantly, the music is incredible. An absolutely vital compendium of many of the sounds and the vibes that made that era what it was. If you love music and/or black culture and history, you can’t afford to miss this one.