The rarely seen and often misunderstood cinéma verité Beatles documentary “Let It Be,” mostly unseen since the 1980s, is now available on Disney+, courtesy of a remastered treatment from Peter Jackson.
At a brief 81 minutes, director Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s film is a rougher document than its companion piece, the sweeping, textured, 468-minute “Get Back” docuseries Jackson created out of the salvaged outtakes from Lindsay-Hogg’s 1969 shoot.
“Let It Be” is contextless, a fly-on-the-wall document of a band rehearsing and recording songs for their twelfth and final studio album “Let It Be;” allowing the creative sparks to fly and land where they may. It’s of historical interest because those songs, presented here in utero, would go on to become some of the most beloved tunes of the twentieth century, and are performed by Paul McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, who, at that moment, were the most famous musicians on the planet.
At its release, the film was picked apart by critics like the Observer, who called it “a bore… clumsily edited, uninformative and naïve.” Presented without a storyline, shot on 16 mm and blown up to 35 mm for theatrical release, it was grainy and dark, both visually and in tone.
Released in May 1970, just a month after the band’s very public divorce, “Let It Be” became ground zero for Beatles conspiracists who analyzed the footage, looking for clues as to why the world’s most beloved band blew apart. Was Paul the bad guy? Did Yoko Ono cause a fissure between band members? The movie is singlehandedly responsible for much of the mythology surround the band’s breakup.
But the new film, restored from the original 16mm negative with sparkling remastered sound, reveals something else. There are moments of tension, notably between McCartney and Harrison, but in the new, cleaned up version, the gloom has lifted to reveal a literal band of brothers making art under extraordinary circumstances.
The sessions came just months after the recording of the “White Album,” and were meant to be a return to their roots in the wake of the death of their manager Brian Epstein, press scrutiny and internal tensions. Their relationships may have been frayed by external pressures, but a closer look at ”Let It Be,” free from the furor of the break-up that coloured the 1970 release, reveals the shared joy of creation.
There is a certain level of performance in “Let it Be,” like Paul making love to the camera as he sings an early version of the title track, but mostly what gives the film its punch is that it is an unvarnished look at four very public people at the height of their fame, unencumbered by the spin of publicist or the glare of the spotlight.
Richard joins guest host Tamara Cherry and Jay Michaels of the NewsTalk 1010 afternoon show The Rush for Booze and Reviews! Today he talks about Rob Roy, the drink, not the movie, and reviews the Disney+ doc “The Beatles: Get Back,” the animated “Encanto” and Lady Gaga in “House of Gucci.”
Richard joins NewsTalk 1010’s “Moore in the Morning” host John Moore to talk about the reopening of the classic concert hall, Toronto’s Massey Hall, and Peter Jackson’s 468 minute documentary “The Beatles: Get Back.”
“The Beatles: Get Back,” Peter Jackson’s 468-minute documentary on the making of the Beatles’ final album “Let it Be,” now streaming on Disney+, asks music fans to rethink some commonly held beliefs about John, Paul, George and Ringo’s January 1969 recording sessions and the demise of the band.
The fifty-plus-year-old fly-on-the-wall footage, originally shot for Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s 1970 documentary “Let It Be,” has been salvaged, cleaned up and portrays a band that may be frayed at the edges, worn thin from years of constant pressure and the recent loss of their manager Brian Epstein, but still able to create timeless music. The film puts to rest notions that Yoko Ono broke up the Beatles, or that George’s frustrations with his role split them apart, or that ego drove a wedge in the group or that manager Allen Klein’s aggressive business practices were to blame.
The real culprit? Familiarity. Stress. Who knows?
What is made clear by “Get Back” is that there was no one thing that led to one of the most public band divorces in rock history.
The downer atmosphere of Lindsay-Hogg’s documentary is missing. With the restored, sparkling audio and picture comes a new, sunnier take on those recording sessions. The bond between the band members is clear, even if tensions arise from time to time.
There is a definite family vibe between them, made stronger when McCartney’s wife Linda and daughter Heather are on the scene, playfully interacting with the most famous musicians in the world. Linda and Yoko chat, roadie Mal Evans cavorts and Lennon introduces the band as “The Bottles” as they work their way through songs like “Get Back” (the writing of which takes up a substantial chunk of the film), “Let it Be” and “I’ve Got a Feeling.” At the end of the final take of “Let it Be” Lennon playfully says, “I think that was rather grand. I’d take one home with me.”
It’s fascinating to see them take the germ of an idea and massage it into fruition. It shows the camaraderie, the experimentation, tension, tedium and talent it takes to mold a thought into a song.
Along the way there are charged moments. John and Paul earnestly discuss George’s (temporary) retirement from the band. There’s a candid conversation between Paul and the studio techs about John and Yoko’s relationship, off-the-cuff performances of old rockers from the band’s Hamburg days like “Rock ‘n Roll Music,” and, of course, the climatic rooftop concert on London’s Savile Row.
Mostly though, it’s an intimate window into the professional and personal world of the Beatles. At upwards of 8 hours (spread over three episodes) it’s a hang out film for fans. There is no real narrative momentum, save for disagreements with Lindsay-Hogg regarding what form a live performance of the new songs will take, just a remarkable, exhaustive document that sheds new light on Beatles folklore.
Linda Ronstadt was one of the voices of the latter part of the twentieth century. The pure, gorgeous vocals that were once a staple at the top of the Billboard charts has been silenced by Parkinson’s disease but a new documentary, “Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice,” serves as a reminder of a pioneer who danced to the beat of a different drum.
The Arizona-born singer made headlines as much for her off-stage life as much as for her on-stage work, but the film wisely focusses on her legacy, the music that made her a superstar. The story begins at home with a family who played and sang all types of music from rock and roll, rhythm and blues, gospel, opera, country and mariachi. Later, those influences mixed and mingled in the folk-rock trio the Stone Poneys. Their biggest success, a cover of Mike Nesmith’s “Different Drum,” became Ronstadt’s first and only hit with the band and she soon left to forge a solo career that would see her become the first female rock star and the first woman to have five platinum albums in a row. “Linda was the queen,” says Bonnie Raitt. “She was like what Beyoncé is now.”
At the peak of her fame she grew tired of selling out arenas and the constant grind of being on the road. Looking for new challenges she took to the Broadway, appearing in “Pirates of Penzance” on stage opposite Kevin Kline. “Gilbert and Sullivan? Can you imagine another rock star who has the guts to go out there and do that kind of musical comedy?” says Jackson Browne. “To her it was a mountain to climb.”
From operetta she went on to explore the American songbook, interpreting the songs of Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald among others. “I didn’t think it was a good idea, not because she couldn’t do it,” says Warner bros executive Joe Smith, “but because we had this run going with rock and roll and country rock records.”
The portrait painted of Ronstadt is one of an artist more concerned with music than her career. She was once the highest paid women in music but left that behind in favour of following her passions, whether it’s making a record of traditional Mexican songs (which became the largest selling Spanish-language record in history to that date), roots rock or singing with her pals Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris.
The film closes on an emotional note with the revelation that Parkinson’s disease has robbed her of her instrument. “I still sing in mind my but I can’t do it physically,” she says.
Oscar-winning filmmakers Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman use archival footage, mixed with new interviews with many of the singer’s friends and colleagues, to complete the picture. It’s wonderful to hear the music, to be reminded of the width and breadth of Ronstadt’s daring and talent, but the commentary tends toward the “She was the best singer I’ve ever heard,” style rather than providing much insight into what makes the singer tick. At the end, however, it doesn’t matter much, as the music, in all its variation and strength, tells the story in a way that suits Ronstadt best.
Laurel Canyon, a nexus of 60s counterculture located in the Hollywood Hills, was home to a generation of singer-songwriters who shaped the music that dominated the baby boomer heyday of commercial radio. “It was the one place you could live that was the antithesis of the plastic straight world you saw on television,” says longtime resident Jackson Browne. “It was always a hangout for bohemians,” says Mamas and Papas singer Michele Phillips and now it is the subject of an entertaining documentary, “Echo in the Canyon.”
The movie’s framework comes from a 2015 tribute concert featuring songs made famous by Laurel Canyon acts like Buffalo Springfield, the Mamas and the Papas and the Beach Boys. “The music that came out of the Laurel Canyon scene in the 60’s was not only inspiring to other bands at that time,” says Jakob Dylan, “but also became inspiring to my generation. Tonight is an opportunity, like folk music, to pass it on to a new generation and keep the echoes of that music going.”
Between live performances from artists like Beck, Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor and Norah Jones, Dylan interviews a who’s who of California Sound-era superstars like David Crosby and Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield’s Stephen Stills, Michelle Phillips, producer Lou Adler and Brian Wilson, about whom Tom Petty, in his last filmed interview, says, “I don’t see anything in Mozart that is better than Brian Wilson.” Other accounts of those times come from John Sebastian and Eric Clapton.
They often say if you can remember the 60s you weren’t really there, but the talking heads here seem to have no trouble recalling the details of the Canyon’s early days. Adler remembers exactly where the musicians sat during the Mamas and the Papas’s first recording session and Ringo Starr says the Byrds turned the Beatles on to a “hallucinogenic situation” when they first met. A mix of contemporary sounds and nostalgia, it paints an apolitical (you would never know that Vietnam was raging during the time documented) picture of a creative collaboration that saw artists competing with one another to expand the limits of what rock music could be. “You can listen to the records,” says Stephen Stills, “and you can hear the cross-pollination.”
Ultimately this isn’t a history of a generation but an enjoyable look at a brief period that still echoes in the imaginations and ears of many fans. “These records came like an avalanche,” Beck says of LPs like “Pet Sounds,” “and there was nothing like them before.”
Check out Richard’s cineplex.com article on Monty Python as the Beatles of Comedy.
“’I’ve got two legs from my hips to the ground, and when I move them, they walk around,’ isn’t a line with the elegance of, ‘Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away,’ but it is a lot funnier.
“Comparing the work of Monty Python and The Beatles might seem like equating apples to oranges, or guitars to crunchy frogs, but it really isn’t that much of a stretch. Eric (Idle), Graham (Chapman), Michael (Palin), John (Cleese) and a couple of Terrys (Gilliam and Jones) have a lot in common with John, Paul, George and Ringo.
“Monty Python has been called the most influential comedy troupe of all time. Their absurdist brand…” Read the whole thing HERE!
We can all conjure up an image of what Merlin the Magician looks like. He appears in dozens of movies, everything from the Disney cartoon Sword and the Sorcerer to Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
While we may not be able to nail the specifics — eye colour or height — the basics are easy — kindly old man with a long white beard, pointy hat, flowing robe. That’s the likeness of the magician that has graced movies for decades — including this weekend’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, starring Nicolas Cage as a magician and Jay Baruchel as his nerdy protege — but over the years there have been a number of interpretations of the character. Here’s a look back:
Knightriders
George A. Romero brought the Arthurian legend forward to present day, and, of course, along with that comes a modern take on Merlin. Played by Brother Blue, an Ivy League-trained actor and pastor, in his only onscreen credit, the wizard is a harmonica-playing hippie with butterflies painted on his face and forehead who spouts Woodstock-inspired dialogue like, “Magic got to do with the soul, man. Only the soul’s got destiny. It got wings. It can fly. That’s magic. The body’s just got a few minutes down here in the dirt with the rest of us.” Far out, man.
Son of Dracula
A rock ‘n’ roll Merlin! A blend of horror, comedy, and music, Son of Dracula stars Ringo Starr as the wizard in a story that could only have emerged from the drug addled 1970s. The story scarcely makes sense, but it is fun to see Ringo and co-star Harry Nilsson (along with cameos by 70s rock legends John Bonham and Keith Moon). Luckily the movie does have a great gothic soundtrack (featuring Ringo, Peter Frampton and George Harrison) making it one of the rare movies which is actually more fun to listen to than to watch.
Cabinet of Curiosities, Miscellaneous
In The Spaceman and King Arthur (also known as Unidentified Flying Oddball), a loose adaptation of adaptation of Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, Merlin is presented against type as an evil character intent on dethroning Arthur. Also out of character is Merlin’s Shop of Mystical Wonders, a horror film about a grandfather spinning tales for his grandson about Merlin’s modern-day store. The wizard sells magical spells and curiosities meant to help people but usually turn out to have the opposite effect. In this movie “abracadabra” usually means “abracadaver.”
