It starts with a trash can. Well, a half-ton of "garbage, and snow, and envelopes and 18-foot-long-extension cords." If you grew up in a household that leaned even slightly toward the counter-culture, you know the routine. Every Thanksgiving, radio stations across America play Arlo Guthrie’s 18-minute-and-20-second "Alice’s Restaurant Massacree." It’s a tradition. But a lot of people forget that the song was so massive it birthed a 1969 movie directed by Arthur Penn. The weirdest part about the cast of Alice's Restaurant is that half the people in the movie weren't even actors. They were just... there. Living it.
Penn had just come off Bonnie and Clyde. He was at the top of the Hollywood mountain. Instead of a big-budget follow-up, he decided to film a bunch of hippies in the Berkshires. He hired Arlo Guthrie to play Arlo Guthrie. He hired Pete Seeger to play Pete Seeger. He even hired the real-life Sheriff who arrested Arlo for littering to play himself. Think about that for a second. That’s like a director today hiring the actual cop who gave a celebrity a DUI to recreate the arrest for a Netflix movie. It’s wild.
Arlo Guthrie and the Authenticity of the Cast of Alice's Restaurant
Arlo Guthrie wasn't a trained actor, and you can tell. But that’s the charm. He has this sleepy, laconic energy that perfectly mirrors the folk-song narrative. He isn't "performing" the 1960s; he's just existing in them. When we talk about the cast of Alice's Restaurant, Arlo is obviously the anchor, but he’s really playing a version of himself that’s slightly more confused by the bureaucratic absurdity of the Vietnam-era draft board.
The movie isn't just a long-form version of the song. It’s heavier. It’s darker. While the song is a hilarious romp about littering and the draft, the film deals with the actual dissolution of the communal dream.
Pat Quinn played Alice Brock. She wasn't the "real" Alice (the real Alice Brock has a cameo as an extra in a few scenes, wearing a large turtleneck). Quinn brought a certain weary, maternal sexiness to the role that made the tension between her and the younger "stray" kids in the church feel real. James Broderick—yes, Matthew Broderick’s father—played Ray Brock. He was fantastic. He captured that specific kind of older bohemian who was trying to lead a revolution but mostly just ended up fixing a lot of pipes in a drafty old church.
The Real People vs. The Actors
This is where it gets meta. Arthur Penn wanted "real" faces. He didn't want Hollywood's version of a hippie with a perfect haircut and a clean vest.
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- William Obanhein (Officer Obie): The actual Chief of Police from Stockbridge, Massachusetts. He arrested Arlo in 1965. In the film, he plays himself with a surprisingly good sense of humor. He later said he’d rather look like a fool in a movie than have someone else make him look like a bigger fool.
- Judge James Hannon: The actual judge who presided over the littering trial. He was blind in real life, and he’s blind in the movie. When he says, "A half-ton of garbage? I’ve never heard of such a thing," that's a man repeating his own history.
- The Extras: Many of the people in the "church" scenes were actual members of the community or friends of the Brocks.
There is a specific scene where Pete Seeger and Arlo visit Woody Guthrie in the hospital. Woody was played by Joseph Boley, but the emotion is incredibly raw because Woody had actually died only two years before the film was released. Pete Seeger is really playing his banjo for his friend’s son. You can’t fake that kind of legacy. It’s heavy.
Why the Movie Cast Felt Different
Most 1960s "youth movies" felt like they were written by 50-year-olds in suits trying to use words like "groovy." But the cast of Alice's Restaurant avoided that because Arthur Penn allowed for a lot of improvisation. He let the actors—and the non-actors—just hang out.
The character of Shelley, played by Michael McClanathan, is a prime example. He represents the darker side of the movement—the heroin use, the wandering, the lack of a safety net. His performance is haunting because it doesn't feel like a "PSA" about drugs. It feels like a guy who just ran out of places to go.
It’s often misremembered as a "stoner comedy." It isn't. It’s a movie about the end of an era. By the time the movie was released in August 1969 (literally the same month as Woodstock), the "Alice's Restaurant" vibe was already starting to curdle into something more complicated. The cast reflects that. They look tired. They look like they’ve been sleeping on church floors for too long.
The Mystery of the "Real" Alice
If you’re looking for the real Alice Brock in the cast of Alice's Restaurant, you have to look closely. She’s there in the background of the Thanksgiving dinner scene and the wedding scene. She reportedly didn't love the movie. Honestly, who would? Seeing a fictionalized version of your failing marriage played out by professional actors must be a trip.
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She eventually became a bit of a reluctant celebrity. Everyone wanted the "Alice" from the song—the one who could cook anything and solve any problem—but the real woman was a complex artist who just happened to own a small eatery in a town that didn't know what to do with a bunch of long-haired kids.
Production Logistics and the Berkshire Setting
The film was shot on location in Stockbridge and Great Barrington. This mattered. The townspeople were part of the backdrop. When you see the parade or the scenes in the local diners, those aren't sets on a backlot in Burbank. That’s the actual chill of a Massachusetts autumn.
- Director: Arthur Penn
- Screenplay: Venable Herndon and Arthur Penn
- Cinematography: Michael Nebbia (who captured that grainy, naturalistic 60s look)
- Music: Arlo Guthrie (obviously)
One detail that often gets lost is that Tina Chen played Mari-chan. Her character added a layer of the "outsider" perspective within the commune. It highlighted that even in these "free" spaces, there were still hierarchies and social frictions. It wasn't all peace and love. There was a lot of dishes to do. There was a lot of cold air coming through the windows.
The Draft Board Scene
We have to talk about the Draft Board. It’s the climax of the song and a pivotal moment in the movie. The actors playing the military officials were perfectly cast as the "straight" world. The contrast between Arlo’s long hair and the rigid, buzzed-cut environment of the induction center is the central visual conflict of the film.
"You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant—excepting Alice."
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That line is iconic, but the movie shows the cost of that "anything." The cast of Alice's Restaurant had to balance the absurdity of a guy being deemed "not moral enough" for the Army because he littered, with the very real stakes of being sent to die in a jungle.
What People Get Wrong About the Cast
A common misconception is that the movie is a musical. It isn't. Aside from a few performances by Pete Seeger and Arlo, it’s a straight-ahead drama with comedic elements. People go in expecting a 90-minute version of the funny song and leave feeling a bit melancholy.
Another error? People think the "church" was a set. It was the actual Trinity Church in Great Barrington. The Brocks actually lived there. They actually ran a school/commune there. The authenticity of the locations gave the actors a ground to stand on that most movies lack.
How to Experience Alice's Restaurant Today
If you want to understand the cast of Alice's Restaurant, don't just watch the clips on YouTube. Watch the whole thing in the context of 1969.
- Listen to the original "Massacree" first. Remind yourself of the humor.
- Watch the film as a period piece. Look at the faces of the extras. Those are real people from a lost world.
- Visit Stockbridge. The church is still there (it’s now the Guthrie Center). You can see the geography of the "crime."
- Research the real Alice Brock. She’s a fascinating artist in her own right, far beyond the "Alice" of the song.
The movie serves as a time capsule. It caught a very specific moment when the folk scene was transitioning into the rock scene, and when the idealism of the early 60s was hitting the hard pavement of the 70s. The cast of Alice's Restaurant—from the professional actors like James Broderick to the "Group W" bench extras—captured a vibe that you just can't manufacture in a studio.
To really appreciate what happened in that church, you have to look past the "litterin' and creatin' a nuisance" and see the people trying to build something new in the ruins of an old building. It was messy. It was loud. It was filled with garbage. But it was real.
Next Steps for the Alice Enthusiast
To dive deeper, track down a copy of Alice's Restaurant Cookbook (the original 1969 version if you can find it). It contains Alice Brock’s actual recipes and notes that give more insight into the "character" of the restaurant than the movie ever could. Additionally, check out the documentary 20th Century Masters: The Best of Arlo Guthrie for interviews with Arlo about the transition from the "Massacree" to the silver screen. Finally, if you're ever in the Berkshires, attend a "Thanksgiving Dinner" at the Guthrie Center to see how the community still honors the legacy of the people who made the story famous.