“The guitar is all very well John, but you’ll never make a living out of it.”
—attributed to both his mother Julia and his aunt Mimi
You, 44 year old Nicholas, mourn John Lennon. You spoke to me, last week, surprised that he had been gone for 30 years. But, my dear, you were not there. It has been most of your lifetime since Lennon was murdered. I was there at the beginning of American Beatlemania and here is how it went. A Hard Days Night, was released in the US on August 11th, 1964. I was going into 4th grade, and we were living in Orange.
Orange California today is a sprawling mess, too big and way overdeveloped. When we lived on S. Orange St in ’63–’64, it was a very pretty old town. The streets were wide and very flat, a perfect place to learn how to ride a bike. Julie and I went to Palmyra Grammar School, where, in 6th grade, she first started to play the flute. We walked or rode everywhere, including to the old movie palace that was on the town square (which is actually a traffic circle with a tiny park at its center.) We saw all our movies there, including The Man with the X-ray Eyes, with dear old Ray Milland, that scared the bejeebies out of us. But what I can’t conjure is what the feature was when we saw the trailer for A Hard Days Night.
The trailer was in black and white. Nothing was black and white in 1964 in the US except t.v. It opened with the Lads running down an urban residential street, away from a pack of adoring fans. (What were all of those 15- and 16-year-old girls going to do with those four guys if they ever caught them?) And then there was that chord. It is dense and compelling, it wakes up the ears and says, “Listen, something good is coming.” (http://www.noiseaddicts.com/2008/11/beatles-hard-days-night-mystery-chord-solved/ And that good thing was running toward us, their gorgeous young selves in natty suits. There had never been anything like them. I was just out of third grade and fell, truly madly deeply in love with all four.
After that unremembered movie, I had enough left over ($1.35?) to buy an early ticket for A Hard Days Night that very afternoon; Julie went back a couple of days later and bought hers. This was good because when we went back, the next week, the lines were insane. Julie kept our place in the pre-sale line and I reconnoitered the just-trying-to-get-in line. Walking out from under the theatre porch, I turned left, walking down Glassell, and saw a line that turned the corner and wound down the long side of the theatre on Main. I was totally knocked out.
We settled down in orchestra section of the theatre to watch the movie. We expected to hear it also, but that was impossible. After that life changing chord, the screaming began. Most of the audience were screaming at the screen, at a movie that had been in the can for over two months. In the immortal words of Norm the road manager, “They’ve gone potty out there.” So my sister and I sat in pie-eyed wonder, watched the images on the screen and wondered what was being said. This all happened 37 years after Al Jolson brought sound to the silver screen.
With subsequent watchings, we finally heard A Hard Day’s Night. It was a treat: glib, hip and funny, shot in a dense black and white by a very young Richard Lester. In 1963 Britain was still in rebuild, with empty lots and strange open space. My younger self thought it was all true. That “clean old man” was Paul’s grandpa and they were just talking, naturally witty and fun. It took me years to appreciate the real work of the movie. But since I’ve seen it more than twenty times, I’ve figured some things out.
Let us start with the story arc. The lads arrive in an unnamed English city where they are to anchor a t.v. variety show being shot in an old music hall. Their handlers, Norm and Shake, try to keep them out of trouble and on time. Paul is shackled to a grandfather in need of a change of scenery and everything comes from that. Grandpa is “a real mixer … and he’ll cost you a fortune in breach of promise suits.” (See how easily the quotes fall out of me?) Paul is pretty and harried, John is sarcastic and in charge and Ringo is by the camera adored. And then there is George, always my favorite, with that low Scouse voice and dreamboat eyes.
This tale of unrecognized fame moves quickly because the movie has only an 87 minute running time. In a hallway, backstage at the theatre, John encounters the deeply delicious Anna Quale and, in less than a minute, the elusive nature of fame is examined. She almost recognizes him but doesn’t want to make of fool of herself. He counters like a nodding acquaintance who delivers the gossip that she knows Him (read: John Lennon), very well. This looking glass dance ends with her saying, “You know, I don’t think you look like him at all,” and flouncing off. John is left to remark to his own reflection, “She looks more like him than I do.”
Escape is an important sub-theme of the movie. They are always trying to get away. George opens a door and falls down his own rabbit hole. An oh-so-tightly-wound advertising exec, perfectly manifested by the uncredited Kenneth Haigh, is waiting for a type to be sent to him. Neither the secretary who ushers our lad into the office, nor the exec, see George Harrison. They only see the type. Not recognizing one of the four most famous men in world, this twit starts to map out a new advertising blitz for his hottest commodity, Susan (a very young Jean Shrimpton in photo only.) “Oh, that posh bird who always gets everything wrong …” The exec can’t handle any suggestion that he isn’t the hippest man on the planet and has George removed.
Goaded by Paul’s grandfather (brilliantly played by Wilfred Bramble), Ringo goes off parading. (Lester insists to this day that Bramble saved the whole production by keeping the non-actor Beatles in line and on mark.) In a cheap overcoat and cap, Ringo Starr walks the rain wet, working-class streets unseen. This vignette on unrecognized fame is both ironic and nostalgic. Ringo tries to find his own identity, separate from his group, but only looks in the places he’s already been. Even the police don’t know him.
Nick, this movie is in my DNA and I thank you for asking me to examine it. On that hot day in Orange, this movie was just a heady celebration of the men who made the music. As I run the film in my head I see what else is there. Early in their mad career, through the auspices of a great young director, John, Paul, George and Ringo held up the mirror to fame and saw some very interesting things. Take a look at A Hard Days Night, watch it carefully. It is great fun, great music and a great warning. Here is fame, here is glory, this is how it works.
