48: Get Back

An aside about the Best Band.

That Beatles Thing Everybody’s Talking About

So The Beatles. Not an 80s phenomenon (although there was a blast of early-Beatles nostalgia in the mid-80s, around and including Ferris Bueller, but it did not interest me then). But I’ve spent the week watching - very happily - the Get Back thing, and I wanna talk about it.

I first heard the Beatles on a 45 that my folks bought me - specifically Yellow Submarine - to play on the little record player I had. (I think it was part of a series of kids’ songs with a yellow label, not an Apple single; but I cannot confirm). Right afterwards I met the Blue Album, the hits from the latter-part of The Beatles. I was 5. The Beatles, going forward, belonged to my parents, not me. There was plenty of music to enjoy without them. I was fine.

My Beatles Phase

Skip to my early 30’s (the early 00s), and I am having a ridiculously intense bout of Beatlemania. I had set myself a goal to learn and know the whole history of Rock Music, and was piecing together the Sixties, and one afternoon I decided to put on that very same, very beat-up copy of the Blue Album.

It was a sunny Summer day, I was in our sweet apartment with our sweet cats, I smoked a sweet joint, and put it on. I lied down on the floor to listen. I remember it very well. Strawberry Fields Forever was the hook, and I was IN LOVE.

You can ask anyone who knew me then - I became obsessive. I listened, almost completely, to nothing but The Beatles for about a year (okay maybe two years). I read every book I could lay hands on - and there are a lot of goddam books about The Beatles. I watched and rewatched the movies, I binged on the Anthology DVD series. I was enthralled - and my poor wife, my poor commute-buddies, they got really sick of The Beatles for a while. But it was REALLY fun for me - a solo tour of a world-phenomenon, compressed into a year, maybe two. It was a blast.

Then, quite naturally, I reached peak Beatles. I was full. I put them away for a while, pulling them out occasionally like a normal regular person might. I’d learned enough - about their roots, their career, their internal workings, their legacy and solo work, and especially about Let It Be/Get Back. There are plenty of books about just this period, and there were hours and hours (years) of bootlegs to chew on.

I Defy You, Stars!

You know, I teach Romeo + Juliet (Baz Luhrman’s version) to my Grade 9 English class every year, and every year the same thing happens. I tell them to watch for it, and it is reliable as the seasons: despite spending the whole movie knowing that the lead characters will most certainly die at the end (a fact revealed in the Prologue), the entire class - including me - will be leaning in towards the screen hoping against hope that Leo will see Juliet’s finger move, will not drink the poison, please please! and we will be crushed when they both perish. It is inevitable.

That’s how the end of The Beatles feels to me. Let It Be (and its follow up Abbey Road) are such strong records, by such a fantastic band, that the potential future of not-breaking up is heartbreaking and palpable. Having read the biographies of fifty other bands that fall into the same archetypal plot; and having seen bands finally start to build the means of avoiding stress-breaks into their plans (touring shorter times, taking breaks); I wish and wish for The Beatles to simply not talk for a couple years. But they still break up, and they do it awkwardly. They still get mired in their final issues - whether or not to hire scam-manager Allen Klein; whether or not to give George some respect; whether to hire Phil Spector while Paul’s out of town; who gets to announce it. They still end.

And they still shouldn’t have. None did any work apart that wouldn’t have been better with the other three. The parts are not equal to their sum. But they were paving the way - they were setting the archetype - and had no other band to look at for example. They were not even 30 when they split. They knew nothing of life yet, nothing of permanence. It is inherently sad, to me.

Get Back, the Series

Get Back is a wonderful series for people like me. It’s a fountain of new information and a clearer vision than we’ve ever had of how things were among these people. I see the headlines on articles about it being too long, too much; I think, well, you’ve watched the wrong movie! You’ve bought the Radiohead special editions and you shouldn't have - you don’t care enough. It is big and important, but it isn’t for you. It’s an 8 hour movie! Make better choices.

[Speaking of choices, I do not subscribe to the gross and gargantuan Disney Channel. You’re likely aware of other ways to find movies online. They still work.]

I loved seeing their communication in action: four British men who cannot loosen up except through music and jokes, who can barely stand to share vulnerability and seem incapable of raising their voices. I love seeing the dance of their eyes as they play. I love seeing Paul absolutely in love with John. And what can be said about watching them grow a song together, from scratch? It’s a serious privilege. I wish there was film of every album’s creation.

I’m glad for the record it presents of the people in the band, especially John and Paul. Prior sources have John absolutely, way way too stoned to function, and have Paul being an insufferable bully. This film shows the humanity of the situation - the day-to-day fluctuations, the honest efforts. All of them come across as more reflective, more dedicated, better than the general impressions and anecdotes do.

I enjoyed being able to witness the pressures on the band: their floundering after Brian Epstein’s death was well-known, but Get Back shows the morass of interests that suck their feet down - from good things, like relationships, to shitty things, like the brutal asshat of a director Michael Lindsay-Hogg with his perpetual and tone-deaf attempts to push them to perform to serve his needs.

It was also great to be able to put a face to Mal Evans (the heroic tea-getter and lyric-transcriber), who gets to play Maxwell’s silly hammer. Mal is also the cat who counted the bars in A Day in the Life, and was one of several long-time friends employed by the band. Magic Alex, the scam-artist electrician, was also funny to see. And George Martin - I knew he was largely uninvolved with the Let It Be record, and it was interesting to see that he still came around, still helped, still all buttoned-up but absolutely a key Beatle element.

And Billy Preston! His contributions are finally given some light! I do not believe he shows up at all in the original film, and he is sadly shot around during the rooftop concert - rude. But here we get to see his impact, hear his brilliant additions, and ponder the possibility that he could’ve been in the band, if they’d lasted. Absolutely brilliant, and finally fair. He’s great to watch.

I have long waited for the release of Let It Be (the film), but am glad now to have bought a pirate copy on DVD - I wonder if it’ll ever be released. It’s a great film, I’ve always liked it, but it is very different (black and white, for one). Same goes for all the bloody versions of Let It Be and Get Back. The end of The Beatles - especially because so many of the reasons and moments involved were either unspoken or very muted - is something that needs a plethora of viewpoints to really witness. A kaleidoscope, which fact John would’ve appreciated.

If you don’t care much, you shouldn’t bother watching it. There are other movies. But if you love the story like I do, and if you react with grief at the end of every listen to Abbey Road the same way Grade 9 kids react to watching Romeo and Juliet screw everything up, have a look. Probably multiple looks. It’s a brilliant thing.

Thanks for reading. Hope you’re great.

If you dig it, please to be sharing it.

xo

jep