Library of Inspiration: A Hard Day’s Night

Running for dear life from massive throngs of crazed fans as if chased by bulls in the streets of Pamplona. All that uncontrollable emotion of frenzied fans. Tears and smiles and wide eyed stares. Disbelief and impossible longing. Laughing all the way inside the fantastic blur. It is the eye of the storm, deep inside the madness. Ardent screams, passionate pleas. Dancing. The Twist. The hippy, hippy shake. Of course, the music. Heavenly music. Voices of destiny. Supercharged and intoxicating.

It is a day in the life of the merry pranksters, the rule breakers, The Beatles. This is rock and roll attitude, but with a lovable twist: infectious likability. Even the typically ornery establishment could not help but crack an occasional smile or shake their heads in appreciation of the phenomenon even if it was something they could not readily understand.

But a film? How in the world could you hope to catch this kind of lightning in a bottle? Surely, something (everything) would be muddled in translation. This had all the makings of an embarrassing failure, a miscalculation for all involved. Such was the filmmaker’s quandary. Problem solved. Richard Lester’s film had answers, made all the right moves. To this day, it is arguably the best rock and roll movie ever made, capturing so much of what has made The Beatles magic last: the inexplicable and hypnotic trance, the attitude, the joy and playfulness, the wit and unwavering charm. The film seeps with energy. What fun! And of course, it contains the inevitable icing on the cake: music from The Beatles! Your feet begin to tap against the floor. You smile often or laugh out loud. You find yourself singing along. Can’t Buy Me Love. Any Time At All. If I Fell. I Should Have Known Better. A Hard Day’s Night. And I Love Her.

I’ve since read many articles and reviews about how innovative the film was (and on a budget that probably couldn’t pay for opening credits in today’s climate). How it was one of the first faux documentaries. How it effectively utilized improvisation, thanks in great part to John, Paul, George, and Ringo being such naturals. How it has since been regarded as a highly influential film for its flawless marriage of technique and subject.

But it wasn’t about any of those things for me. From a fan’s perspective, the film wasn’t about technical merit, hand held cameras, jump cuts, gorgeous black and white, or any other of its successful stylings. The lure for me was far more basic and pure. This was a back stage pass that got me closer to my idols than otherwise possible. It was a dream come true.

A chance to hang with The Beatles? Are you kidding? And yes, to the filmmaker’s credit and to the credit of The Beatles, it does not feel staged. This wasn’t about musicians turning into awkward actors, forcing lines. This was about The Beatles being The Beatles. It was about their world, their rules and how strange and surreal everything looked from their eyes. Near the end of the film, we see close-ups of their backs and legs and arms and heads as they play music that can hardly be heard at all over the hysterical screaming of fans looking straight at them (us). We feel the enormous thrill and weight of what it meant to be a Beatle. A Beatle! The beautiful absurdity plays out before us. It’s an amazing shift in perspective, going from fan to idol, idol to fan. The result is an exhilarating 360 degree view of a fantastic time and place.

Music and film, inseparable and seamless. And with songs that were not filler either. The songs were the movie. The Beatles were the movie. Plot took a distant backseat. How in the hell could that possibly work? Damndest thing. It does work. Maybe they couldn’t help it. They had the golden touch. We were simply at their mercy. The Mercy Beat.

And what’s more, just like their music, the film transcends time. You just don’t grow tired of hearing a Beatles’ song and you never grow tired of watching A Hard Day’s Night. I popped in the Special Edition DVD today to try and gain some perspective on what it was exactly that made the film a profound experience for me, but the assignment didn’t last more than ten or fifteen minutes. I soon put my pen and note pad down so that I could do nothing more than just sit back and enjoy it all over again.

Last year, my good friend Pat and I decided to check out the show LOVE at The Mirage in Las Vegas. I must say that neither of us are fans of Cirque du Soleil so we were a bit apprehensive to slap down the bucks for those rather ridiculous ticket prices—money that was surely better suited on the roulette table (on black of course). But something told us we should see the show anyway. Wise choice. To sit inside that theater and hear the Martin mashups of those great songs was a memorable experience. We were immediately struck by the energy of the crowd. Our energy. The crowd’s excitement. Our excitement. The buzz in line and in The Beatles souvenir shop seemed almost freaky, especially considering the year (2007). It was as if no time—certainly not 40 plus years—had elapsed at all since The Beatles conquered the world. Hell, I wasn’t even born yet when they came to America. I love to hear Pat’s stories of how it went down. She and her sisters each picking out their favorite Beatle on the album cover of A Hard Day’s Night. And of course, laying claim to a favorite song.

I think of my niece, who became a fan just a few years ago. Talk about passing the test of time! The music. Their larger than life personas. Their story. All captured so effortlessly and marvelously in a low budget “little” film, A Hard Day’s Night. How lucky we all are, no matter our age or point of entry, to be able to hop aboard such a wild and thrilling ride.

-G