In honor of the big game today I figured I’d stop in with another super-sized post on a super-sized documentary that’s worth your time. I caved over the holidays and finally got myself a subscription to Disney+, which means aside from slowly working my way through all the nerd porn on there (sooooooo many Marvel and Star Wars things to get through…) I was finally able to watch the Beatles documentary that came out last year, The Beatles: Get Back. And if you happen to be like me — a massive music and/or Beatles fan who spends most of their time living under a rock, avoiding the majority of what the general public watches/listens to/thinks is good — you’re going to want to check it out.
At turns a thrilling and maddening watch, it covers what sounds like a relatively simple task for a band that at that point had been together for nearly ten years — record an album and let filmmakers shoot the process, resulting in a “behind the scenes” movie documenting the album’s creation that would be released at the same time as the music. What transpires, though, is far more problematic, nuanced, and interesting. To set the scene for the uninitiated, at this point in the Beatles’ career they’re two years beyond the world-changing release of Sgt. Pepper’s and over three years since they’d last played live in public. They’re still the biggest band on the planet, but internal friction is already threatening to tear the band apart for good (they’re less than a year past the recording of the White Album, which was contentious and led to Ringo leaving the band for several weeks.)
It’s against this backdrop that the group are attempting to record the album and movie, giving themselves three weeks to do so before Ringo has to leave to begin filming a movie. For those familiar with the history (or those just reading the tea leaves) it should come as no surprise to say “it did not go well.” Except, that’s not entirely true. That’s certainly been the legend — the album and movie came out shortly after the band broke up and despite the largely vanilla images shown in the original there were numerous reports of the process being fraught with infighting and disagreements. And while there are definitely moments of that shown in this rendition (George quits by the end of part I, something that was completely left out of the original) there are also moments of great levity and love (along with some spine-tingling ones from the music).
Directed by famed filmmaker Peter Jackson (your first sign this is not going to be a quick watch) this version draws on the same source material as the original movie, but is infinitely superior — at least for those most concerned about the history of the album and what went into recording it. The original focuses almost exclusively on the songs (with two head-scratching aberrations) — so what transpires in its 80 minute duration is mostly uncut performances of the tracks that end up on the album (along with a few covers and moments of banter in between). What’s missing is ALL of the context preceding/following them (maybe it was known to everybody at the time, but as someone who didn’t grow up in that era I found it somewhat confusing to watch — where was all the reported acrimony? The inability to find or finish songs worth recording? These guys are blowing through songs without batting an eyelash and seem fine, for the most part… — and thus felt more like a flimsy whitewash than a useful historical record.)
Jackson, thankfully, fills in all those gaps and gives us a complete understanding of how things actually went over the three part/nearly eight hour duration — and as a result the payoff at the end of both films, the iconic rooftop performance, now hits with the force of a sledge compared to its previous impact as if doled out by Maxwell’s silver hammer. To pull it off Jackson culled through over 60 hours of film and 150 hours of audio that were unused in the original movie and tells an extremely detailed, methodical story of what led to that rooftop denouement.
Only now do we understand the original intent — the album and movie, which aren’t even mentioned in the original, the compressed timeline of three weeks to meet Ringo’s movie deadline (and also producer Glyn Johns’ availability), but also why the rooftop even occurred — because the other big goal of the project (and the cause of a good chunk of the shown disagreements) was to be a live performance. The band’s first in over three years. And maybe their last one ever. (A likelihood that becomes more apparent/certain as events unfold.)
At first it was going to be a live TV show (there’s lots of talk over set design, scaffolding, and plastic boxes), then maybe an outdoor concert somewhere in England, or a Roman amphitheater in Libya, or maybe even on board a cruise out at sea. This topic was the source of one of the two aforementioned aberrations in the original — a completely out of context conversation between Lennon and McCartney over Harrison’s reluctance to do certain things thanks to his “rules” — that makes him sound inflexible and/or unreasonable without that background. (Upon hearing the full audio of those conversations we learn that the rest of the band were not fans of some of those ideas either.)
The performance was just one point of contention — and not even the primary driver, I’d argue, at least not based on what’s shown here. Another was the constant presence of Lennon’s then girlfriend Yoko Ono during the recording sessions (the most commonly cited reason for why the band ultimately broke up), but while she was frequently there right next to Lennon, she 1) didn’t seem terribly disruptive (her awful yowling screams aside on a few captured jams) and 2) didn’t seem to be there any more than Linda McCartney (who sometimes also brought her young daughter, which you could argue is even more of a distraction). So while it had been an issue on the last album and most definitely would be on the next (when a bed is installed so she can monitor/observe while recovering from an illness) it doesn’t yet seem to be a major point of contention. (There’s even a sequence where it’s just Paul, Ringo, and the producers where Paul is defending John and Yoko being together all the time — something along the lines of “in 50 years people are going to look back and say ‘that was what did it?’ They’re in love — who cares?”) I think the more likely culprit — at least for what drove George to leave temporarily — was the way Lennon and McCartney treated Harrison as a musician.
Somewhat tellingly both movies show a sequence where McCartney is trying to explain to Harrison how he wants him to play the riff on “Two of Us.” (The second aforementioned aberration as it was again shown with zero context in the original.) In both clips McCartney says he can hear himself annoying Harrison as he tries to explain what he’s asking for (despite trying desperately not to), to which Harrison says for McCartney to just tell him how he wants him to play it — or if he doesn’t want him to play anything at all, he’ll do that too. (“Whatever it is that will please you, I’ll do it,” he says, which is almost heartbreaking in its honesty and quiet frustration.)
There’s also an amazing sequence between Paul and John in the cafeteria that was recorded without their knowing (the filmmakers put a mic in a flowerpot and just happened to capture them talking candidly about George, the band, and who calls the shots) that provides some useful context. But I think the biggest damage comes from the indifference (and almost condescension) with which those two treat George when he brings in songs. Aside from not playing them all the way through before spiraling off in some other direction, Lennon also makes a couple snide comments about how he must’ve forgotten what type of music they make as a band — this in response to George demoing them a bit of “I Me Mine!” (Later on there’s a more positive reception to “For You Blue” as the band blaze through a solid rendition as a group, though this comes after Harrison’s initial departure so might be an episode of being on one’s best behavior.)
Whatever the reality, Harrison leaves at the end of part one, the band tries to bring him back several times to no avail, there’s concerns not only about the album/movie/show, but also whether this is The End, but after some additional negotiations and reflection he returns. He’s got a couple conditions (no TV show, sparking that conversation about his “rules” and a move off the soundstage back to the familiar confines of Apple Studios), but he’s also got an extra wrinkle — when he comes back it’s shown that he’s invited Billy Preston to the recordings, in part to bring some extra energy and flourishes on the keys, but also (one supposes) to act as an additional buffer and to encourage folks to keep it focused and cordial.
The lion’s share of part II focuses on Billy and the band working through the material for the album, as well as the potential performance (venue locations are still being debated off and on to no agreement) and this is where a bit of the maddening element comes in. There’s the usual back and forth as the band struggles to get songs into the shape we ultimately know, which is part of the enjoyment of documentaries like this or listening to demos of songs you know and love — you get to see how things ultimately took shape and appreciate the skill and talent deployed to shape that chunky hunk of rock into a beautiful, polished statue. So it goes here with the band endless tinkering with the lyrics, trying to find something they liked (the most noteworthy example being “Get Back” where they run through half the dictionary trying to find the right names and locations) and playing with the melodies. (There’s fast, jokey versions of “The Long and Winding Road” and “Two of Us,” the latter of which even sports some German accents in one rendition.)
And while all that’s normal, there’s something more schizophrenic to what’s shown here as the band jumps ALL over the place, playing a few lines of a song before immediately jettisoning it and starting on another, or playing a song serious for a minute or so before devolving into one of those jokey, half-assed versions mentioned above. It’s not clear whether it’s nerves, a previously unknown ADD element to how they normally operated, or how Jackson chose to cut together the footage (or all three), but it’s really jarring at times. (Watching another documentary afterwards, the equally recommended If These Walls Could Sing, it becomes clear it’s more a symptom of their broader dysfunction as producer George Martin indicated he had “lost control” of the proceedings and would only record with them again if they “did it like they used to” (aka with discipline and focus).)
All the chaos and tumult culminates with the fabled rooftop performance in part III, which in light of all that’s come before it is magical — gone is all the goofing around, gone is the apparent tension, and what’s left is the band that conquered the world. They’re tight, they seem to be having a good time, and man are they killing it. Despite only doing five songs (albeit a couple multiple times) they immediately snap in and their performance is electric. You can see the looks they exchange — “what were we worried about”/”what took us so long?!” — and it’s a thrill shared with the audience. (As I watched it I immediately wondered what the folks on the adjoining rooftops thought and how many will have claimed to be there/down below in the subsequent years.)
Jackson’s more detailed rendition again gives us more to enjoy here — while the original showed footage of the police arriving and folks on the street being interviewed, there was no audio of what they were actually saying, which is a shame because the encounters with the police in particular are laugh out loud funny. (Also one of the comments from a woman on the street who was incensed at having been woken up from her nap.) The growing frustration (“we’ve gotten 30 complaints in the past hour!”), the half-baked excuses given by Apple employees (who don’t let slip that the band are actually on the roof and not just playing extremely loudly in the studio — their original supposition — until the police have been standing there for what feels like 20 minutes), and the exasperated expressions on their faces (which I later found out were because they were being filmed from behind a one way mirror and not because someone was standing there with a camera in their face as they were subjected to increasingly ridiculous stall tactics) are all great. As are the band’s reactions to them finally arriving on the roof — McCartney lets out a whoop, Harrison defiantly turns his amp back on after it’s momentarily been shut off, and the band kicks it into even higher gear with blistering performances of “One After 909,” “I’ve Got a Feeling,” and “Get Back.” It’s a total thrill, the perfect culmination of 7+ hours of buildup and one you’ll want to watch several times.
The film closes with a buzzy band listening to the recordings downstairs and recounting what happened before coming back the following day to record some of the slower songs they’d been working on. All in all it’s a terrific watch, not only for Beatles fans (which if you aren’t — honestly, what’s wrong with you?), but for music fans and pop culture/history buffs in general. There’s loads of other highlights — the goosebumps you get when you see/hear Paul play “Let it Be” or “Across the Universe” for the guys for the first time (“just a little something I wrote last night” ?@#^%$@!), the endearing moments between George and Ringo as the former helps the latter flesh out the musical progression of “Octopus’ Garden,” even the banter between Paul and John, which while slightly frayed still shows a loving shorthand borne out of years of intense intimacy.
It’s a wonderful reminder of JUST how insanely talented these guys were — flawed, fractured, and/or diminished as it may have been at this point — and how much they crammed into their six short years of recording. The best-selling music act of all time (600 million albums sold worldwide), the most #1 songs on the US charts (20), the most #1 albums on the UK charts (15), and more songs that are still debilitatingly good 50+ years and hundreds of listens later. (It’s also a reminder of how foolish humans can be in their decision-making — despite having had a band member quit on each of the last two albums, the band somehow decided to go back into the studio — THREE WEEKS LATER — and record what would ultimately be their final album, Abbey Road. Glimpses of “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” “Oh! Darling,” “Octopus’ Garden,” and “I Want You (She’s so Heavy)” all make appearances here, another delight amongst many.)
Eight hours may seem like a lot, but with music this good it’s definitely worth it…
Check out what the lads got into once they finally called it quits, with the best of the best represented here on the Black Album.
(I also strongly recommend that other doc, If These Walls Could Sing, also available on Disney+. Aside from filling in some gaps on the Beatles and this album, it also sports interviews with other icons Jimmy Page, Elton John, Pink Floyd, and Oasis as it focuses on the number of great recordings made at Apple Studios. Really interesting stuff…)
Until next time, amici…
–BS