At the very least, Altamont is an excellent satire of Woodstock. What was bucolic at Woodstock—the flower children, the free acid, the piles of dung, promoter Michael Lang’s impish perpetual smirk—seemed grossly irresponsible and menacing at Altamont. It underscores the sheer luckiness of Woodstock; repeat a lawless, drug-fueled scenario ten times, and you’re going to get a lot more Altamonts than Woodstocks.
