The Beatles: Get Back

It was 56 years ago today...

There's a new Beatles documentary out—Beatles '64—produced by Martin Scorsese—that re-edits the footage recorded by the Maysles Brothers during the first leg of the first U.S. concert tour of The Beatles. The project may be remarkably similar to what Peter Jackson did in 2021 with all the footage and audio made of the "Let It Be" sessions of 1969. I've managed to get a look at that earlier one (without subscribing to the whims of Disney+), so let's take a look at that earlier re-composition.

The Beatles: Get Back (Peter Jackson, Michael Lindsey-Hogg, 2021) It seemed like such a simple thing. The Beatles would record an album of songs and then do a concert of those songs. Michael Lindsey-Hogg would direct a documentary about making the album and presenting the concert. They'd done it hundreds of times. What could possibly go wrong?

Lots. The Beatles had not toured together in years, which, as insane and chaotic as it was, was a bonding experience. Then, their manager Brian Epstein died, leaving The Beatles to fend for themselves. And, outside of their touring bubble, they were spending more and more time apart. They kept writing. They kept socializing, but their interests began to diversify. They were becoming less The Beatles and more the individuals of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr (in the order of joining the band). They focused on studio-work, the last result being the hodge-podge double "White Album", which saw less collaboration and more individual work. 

The next Beatles Project was just as chaotic—no one could decide on the concert venue, they started working at Twickenham Studios which acoustically sounded like a vault, the close-knit group began to fray and lead guitarist George quit. Then, John boycotted. Then, it was decided to move the recording sessions to their old haunts at Abbey Road. Everything seemed disorganized and in flux. The results became the album "Let It Be" (which was successful) and, released much later, the documentary of the same name. Which was a little horrifying.

What Let It Be (the film) revealed was presentations of the songs, punctuated by the dramatic highlights of the studio sessions...which usually entailed arguments and flashes of bickering, which led to desertions and the general impression that The Beatles were something of a mess as a band, only to have that disproven during the legendary roof-top concert where the raw "live" performances ended up being as good and catchy as a finely-honed studio recording—and ended up being used on the "Let It Be" album.

Lesson learned: The Beatles, as a group, could still produce great music together despite differences, approaches, and personalities. Well, sure, it all sounds alright in the end, but the process of getting there was unnerving to audiences, if not fans. No one likes to see the sausage being made. And the impression Let It Be, the film, left was that, although great music was produced, the bickering, disorganization, defections, gave an air of dysfunction.

But what the film presented was a tiny percentage of what happened in the studio—the opening card for each episode of Get Back lays out the stats: 60 hours of film and 150 hours of audio. Peter Jackson, who had used new digital technology to clean up and colorize archival footage from World War I for his stunning documentary They Shall Not Grow Old was approached to look at the footage and listen to the audio to make a new, more comprehensive documentary about the "Get Back" project and the result is fascinating—if you're a die-hard Beatles fan and understand the process of in-studio writing (and re-writing) and making "take" after "take" before achieving the best possible outcome. Folks are used to listening to "the last take" and hearing the same song over and over again with minute changes can become a bit tedious if you don't understand the concept of "work-in-progress."

And the whole project was "work-in-progress"—working on songs old (that they hadn't previously "cracked") and new to come up with a new album and then trying to decide where they would be performed live, whether with an audience or not, with constant discussions of where to hold such an event...if, in fact, it was going to be done. Add to that the film-crew constantly jockeying around for good angles and catching bits and pieces of performance. Even with those 60 hours of film, Jackson had to perform miracles of editorial fudging to fill out those parts of the 150 hours of audio that had no accompanying sync-picture.

Add to that various issues. Paul is feeling some pressure to "move-along" to get some finished songs "in the can". John has brought Yoko Ono into the studio (for support and because she and John are awaiting word of her impending divorce) and her constant presence starts as a distraction but eventually all the Beatles-wives/girlfriends (and kids) make appearances and the atmosphere gets a little looser and more familial. Individual songs are tried and attempted (some that will appear on the subsequent "Abbey Road" album and solo releases by individual Beatles are passed over). There's a lot of "noodling" of old classics sporadically as the four jam together.

And there are technical issues. They start filming at Twickenham, a film-studio that has some "empty" time before the filming of The Magic Christian there—Ringo's commitment to it is what is driving the one-month time-limit on The Beatles project. It's convenient for the film-makers (it's a film-studio, after all!) but the cavernous space they're practicing in is a disaster acoustically—the band-members don't get any sense of what things "truly" sound like. Then, George receives a vicious shock from a microphone that needs to be fixed—a studio tech only believes it when he reproduces the same shock on himself.

No one's comfortable. Then, Paul's impatience frustrates George over suggestions for lead-guitar parts that ends up with him gently—but pointedly—saying "Yeah, okay, well, I don't mind. I'll play, you know, whatever you want me to play. Or I won't play at all if you don't want me to play, you know. Whatever it is that'll please you, I'll do it." George would subsequently walk out of the sessions (reportedly after some frustration with John but they didn't have film of that), but that scene became the most controversial scene of the Let It Be film. Jackson's Get Back gives it a lot more context: George was having a bad time of it—bad sound, dodgy equipment, rejected songs until "the quiet Beatle" had just had enough. He walked. There would begin a process of negotiation between the four to try and coax him back. The first try did not go well and John subsequently stayed away for part of the day, leaving Paul and Ringo to wonder what the future was, to speculate, and to worry. The footage of the completely-thrown McCartney is a bit heart-breaking.

"And then there were two..." 

Paul McCartney contemplates a future without his band-mates.

John calls Paul, knowing full-well that no music will be had that day, and offers to come in to talk things out. They meet in Twickenham's cafeteria to have it out. Although it isn't filmed, one of the film-crew has hidden a microphone in a pot of flowers on the table and records the whole thing (in what feels like a breach-of-trust!) But, the conversation is revelatory. One is struck by how honest the two are with each other and clear-eyed about the issues. It's clear that they have deep affection for each other but they don't mince words. Both admit that they've been treating George and Ringo as "second-class Beatles" and that they need to do better. And McCartney says something I never would have suspected he'd say to Lennon: "Listen, you're the boss" acknowledging that The Beatles always was Lennon's band. They'll figure it out. They'll do better.

Paul has an idea that the concert should be broadcast like a news-cast

with the last headline being "The Beatles Have Broken Up"

A sleepy Ringo's reaction is priceless.

The solution worked out is to everybody's liking: They'll abandon Twickenham and set up shop at their old recording space at Abbey Road Studios, and George, who'd been talking about great keyboard players they might get for the concert brings in Billy Preston (The Beatles knew him from their early concerts in Germany). The dynamic in the group changes, even an initially-reluctant McCartney finds Preston invaluable in the recording sessions. Things loosen up. Work progresses faster and it looks like they might eke out some good songs playable for the concert.

Things are so relaxed at Abbey Road that the work starts becoming play. Guests visit and scamper about. Yoko Ono and Linda Eastman's daughter Heather start a screaming song duet together. Paul and John start doing songs in various voices and accents to crack each other up. And the control room at Abbey Road becomes packed with Beatles and guests listening to playbacks.

A news headline in the paper about anti-immigration sentiments in England fuels a rough Paul-bassline that impresses George and Paul starts putting protest lyrics to it—"Get Back to where you once belonged"—and John gets energized, throwing out lyric ideas. George brings in a tune he worked out the night before dismissing it as "12-bar blues" and John gets enamored fiddling with a slide guitar somebody's brought in, while Paul experiments with George's idea of a de-tuned piano and the song is a simple addition.

And the concert? Ringo can't travel. Permits in London are a nightmare. They decide to just do it on the roof of Abbey Road, snaking cables to the control room to record it. It's simple. It's easy. And Paul's intrigued with the idea that they might get arrested for it. On a cold day, the group climb the stairs to the roof with Billy Preston, while Yoko and Ringo's wife Maureen huddle off to the side for the spectacle. Six cameras are used to record it, with a few stringers down on the street to record crowd-reactions.

It's at this point that Jackson "goes to town." With six cameras covering the main action, he shows the full concert—including second takes of "Get Back" and "Don't Let Me Down"—from beginning to end, sometimes splitting the screen with different angles—from the moment the group (with Billy Preston) gets up to the roof to the point where they're made to stop at police "request" for noise complaints and traffic disruption. Despite the cold (or perhaps because of it), it's an energetic performance—the last one The Beatles would perform as a group.

From a documentary stand-point, it's the third act "topper" with a good performance, some backstage drama and a few surprises along the way.

But, it's a journey, one that's completed by the skin of the participants' teeth taxing the patience of all involved (and maybe the audience's, too). For Jackson, it was a mammoth undertaking, logging and watching all that footage, listening to all that audio, "cheating" moments that might match what was being said and taking advantage of focusing moments and transitional camera movements when all else fails. That's a monumental task to present approximately 455 minutes of usable material. Herculean. Homeric, even. 

 

And it takes a True Fan. Say what you want about Peter Jackson: like him or not, he puts in the work and goes an extra ten miles to finish the task.

The U.S. vs. John Lennon

Written at the time the film hit theaters.

Yes, We All Shine On

First off, it's a VH-1 documentary, and you know what those look and feel like. Heavy on the art direction, light on the content, The U.S. vs. John Lennon single-mindedly paints the impression that John Winston Lennon was considered a threat to the Nixon Administration, and thus, singled out for investigation and action by federal agencies to toss him out of the country. All true to a certain extent. But what the documentary, in its rush to lionize both Lennon as a martyr and rock n' roll as a powerful political force ("Corporate rock n' roll," mind you), fails to point out is that was a far-too-commonplace tactic for that government, whether under the aegis of J. Edgar Hoover, or by the group that was organized by the White House after Hoover decided he didn't want any part of Nixon's dirty work or "The Plumbers" (they of "Watergate" fame). First off, the filmmakers have the disingenuousness to say that John Lennon was unique in that he used his celebrity to advance a political cause.

No! Really? Bet that never happened before! Gosh! I wonder what all those HUAC meetings were for in the 50's?

Nor was Lennon unique being targeted by the Nixon administration. During the Watergate Hearings, it was revealed that Nixon had an actual "Enemies List"--involving such folks as Daniel Schorr and Paul Newman. The only surprising thing about its existence was that the clowns actually wrote the names down and kept copies of it (for the memoirs, no doubt).

Another point of emphasis is Lennon's participation in a benefit rally that saw its benefactor released from jail three days later. The documentary would have us believe it was "The BIG NAME of LENNON" that got the wheels of justice rolling, when it might actually be that John Sinclair was released by a sympathetic judge who came to the same conclusion the rallyers did: that the man shouldn't have been sentenced to ten years in prison for selling two joints to undercover cops; that the charges were trumped up, and having been so trumped were thus dismissed.

Now Lennon is the Beatle that I have the most admiration for (then George, then Richard Starkey, then Pete Best, then Jimmy Nicol, Murray the K, then Sir Paul, the git), and its always fun to see old footage of him, sporting and sparking. What Lennon did do that was unique was to take Yoko Ono's challenging, simple ideas and exploit them as marketing slogans, whether with songs, on billboards, or the various stunts the two pranksters would use to lure in the press. Lennon didn't give a shit if he was thought a fool as long as the message got out—when you were a Beatle you developed a hard carapace. The film is at its best showing the two manipulating the "five steps behind" fifth estate, and clearly enjoying themselves, being very much in love, and showing how the government actions against them (surveillance and threatened deportation) weighed heavily on them.

But its not the whole story. Nothing is made of Lennon's drug abuse (what, they couldn't get rights to use footage from Let It Be?) or about what has become known as "John Lennon's Lost Weekend." The filmmakers use "Instant Karma" as the End Credits song implying (I guess) that everybody doing dirty deeds got their "comeuppance." Ironically, one of the lyrics from that song is "And We All Shine On...(like the moon and the stars and the sun)." Taking another interpretation of the word "shining," one can say that applies to the film-makers as well, since they "shine on" any embarrassing facts that might contradict their simplistic view of a complicated artist.