| Tech Note | Lineage: Sunshine Daydream Film > ? > MPEG-1
Video Stream: Motion Video, 352x240, 29.97003fps (NTSC), 1150kbps
Audio Stream: Audio Standard MPEG layer2 Stereo, 44100Hz, 229376bps
Disc 1: (29:48; 371MB)
Disc 2: (43:23: 433MB)
Concert film by John Norris, Sam Field, and Phil DeGuere
Loosely shot, this 100-minute film captures an incredibly youthful Grateful Dead playing
outdoors at a creamery benefit in Veneta, Oregon.
Mpegs downloaded from JBgoode's ftp server (thanks Ken!).
Text, md5 check sum and seeding to FurthurNet by MattMan. Peace. October 2003.
The following text is from http://www.sfherald.com/columnists/capozzola/capozzola08.html
"In sitting down to watch 'Sunshine Daydream,' one gets a sense of revisiting history.
Because this was an era of unprecedented accessibility, the Canis Major crew were able to
station their cameras squarely on the wings of the stage, mere feet from the band.
The resulting footage allows the viewer to stand almost shoulder-to-shoulder with a
very young Bob Weir, age 25, strumming a cherry-red hollow-body guitar; a bushy-haired
Phil Lesh, dressed more like a surfer than a bassist, and belting unexpected harmony
vocals; a fuzzily bearded Garcia, age 30, smiling, not a gray hair in sight; and,
a tough-looking Bill Kreutzman, sitting squatly on his drum stool, chewing gum and
wearing a railroad conductor's cap. Where most Dead fans only witnessed these musicians
20 years later, and from the remote mezzanine deck of a Checkerdome-Enormodome-Superstadium,
here suddenly is Garcia's boot tapping on a rusty foot pedal, Phil Lesh leaping in front of
Kreutzman during a jazzy drums and bass solo, and Bob Weir stepping timidly to the
microphone after a long, haunting jam.
One can only speculate on just how psychedelically engaged Norris, Field, and DeGuere
(along with third cameraman Lou Melson, and sound man Charlie Barreca) were as they
recordeded the day's proceedings. The concert itself was organized by Ken Kesey and the
Merry Pranksters, which helped to ensure a day of genuine acid craziness. But shot with
synchronized, handheld cameras, the Canis Major team succeeded in capturing both the blissful
playing of the musicians and the general ecstasy of the audience. The camera eye becomes almost
a running commentary of the respective filmmakers' interior monologues. A close-up of Garcia's
leather boot stepping on a wah-wah pedal jumps suddenly to a Christ-like figure perched
precariously on a wooden pole above the stage. The camera tracks the fellow as he dances
rabidly above the music, then cuts to two women walking a child behind the stage. A dog
runs past them. Suddenly the music changes gears and the camera swings back to the stage,
to blonde-haired Phil Lesh at the precise moment he strums a booming chord on his bass.
And then the other camera takes over, offering Bob Weir baring his teeth and straining
to sing a high note as he chops harsh chords on his guitar. Weir falls backward as Garcia
begins to solo and the camera suddenly jumps again to a topless girl dancing nearby in the
tall grass.
Such chaotic filming succeeds precisely because of its extemporaneous nature. Almost
accidentally, it captures the day's events in whirlwind fashion, fortuitously recording
all the peripheral "noise" of the festival. In editing the film, DeGuere, Norris, and
Field wisely provided some breathing room, interspersing performance clips with vintage
moments of Kesey and the Pranksters. Additional background footage delivers candid shots
of the festival's organizers as they try to cope with a water shortage amidst the day's
100-degree heat. The camera pans to crowds of men and women sharing plastic jugs of water.
Overdubbed walkie-talkie chatter reveals the stage crew trying to bring in a fire truck
to hose down the crowd.
In true Deadhead spirit, the film preserves an event that seem awfully remote in today's
world of cable TV, Internet ticketing, and heavily policed gatherings. Early in the movie,
an eager crew can be seen building a simple wooden stage. No cops, no security force
trolling the grounds. No bags being searched, no one ejected for cigarette smoking.
What one witnesses as the movie gets underway is 30,000 folks raving about in a big,
sunny meadow while the local band plays on a hastily erected platform. Two flinty piles
of amplifiers broadcast loud rock 'n roll out to the countryside. Amidst such casual
planning, it seems forgivable that the festival's organizers forgot to incorporate
stage lights. Providentially, this lack of concert lighting works to stunning effect
later in the film. As the sun sets, and a cool breeze settles on the day's revelry,
Garcia can be faintly seen crooning the plaintive "Sing Me Back Home," a mere
silhouette of dark hair and beard against the gathering dusk.
Such a pastoral scene, of dogs and babies and children eating ice cream, hearkens back
to a bygone era. 'Sunshine Daydream' never lectures, though, never complains that such
days have passed. But in its quick cuts to footage of the Merry Pranksters, and their
1964 bus slogan "A vote for Barry [Goldwater] is a vote for fun," one sees the timeless
political viability of street theater. And cutting back to the Dead in blazing performance,
one is reminded that the most essential American liberty is freedom of expression."
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