Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage

A queasy, propulsive autopsy of a dream gone rotten, mixing archive chaos with rueful testimony until the heat and anger feel contagious.

Concert footage curdles into unease as heat, greed and crowd anger build toward a chaotic, uncomfortable collapse.

A sober, harrowing account that builds dread through firsthand testimony, leaving you shaken and angry at the preventable loss.

A wall of industrial noise and fire, thrilling and exhausting, best felt loud and on a big screen.

A fast, wryly funny and increasingly tense autopsy of hubris, watching a glossy fantasy collapse into chaos and schadenfreude.

A slow-building, fly-on-the-wall chronicle that turns from backstage boredom to a chilling, unforgettable descent into chaos.

A sobering, infuriating documentary that bears witness to trauma and survival with unflinching clarity.

A harrowing, immersive plunge into a single day, told through raw survivor testimony and archival footage that makes history feel immediate and overwhelming.

A sobering, urgent documentary that exposes hidden dangers in everyday food, leaving you informed and uneasy.

A loud, sweaty festival set captured up close, with backstage glimpses that feel like hanging out with the band between thunderous songs.

A sober, unsettling reconstruction that lingers on chaos and its unanswered aftermath, asking you to sit with discomfort rather than look away.

A hazy, kaleidoscopic plunge into excess and creativity, buzzing with glamour and self-destruction, more mood than chronology.