Tom Jolliffe looks at Peter Jackson’s lengthy but fascinating documentary, The Beatles: Get Back…
You might call it B roll or off cuts of Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s iconic documentary film Let it Be, which chronicled The fab fours work on a free form concept album and accompanying performance. Said album was so off the cuff, that no one ever had a clear idea of what the end goal was going to be until they were appearing on the roof of the building at Apple studios. A lithe 80 minute film showed the bands brilliance at work, even whilst underlying tensions were pulling the group apart. Then over 50 years down the line, using masses of archival footage that had been taken during the creation and recording of Let it Be, Peter Jackson delivers a three part, eight hour series replete with beautifully restored footage and a meandering, if fascinating fly on the wall look into a group trying to get back to basics and create something with the raw immediacy that live recording gives you, and not so thematically grandiose as some of their previous concept albums.
For anyone with a passing interest in the creative process in music and especially for fans (even passing) of the group itself, this is enthralling viewing. The lengthy film split into its three sections isn’t unlike Peter Jackson’s narrative film trilogies. It’s a long, arduous, but a gripping journey that might be just a bit too repetitive in its mid-section, like The Lord of the Rings, whilst at times it might also be as misfiring and unhoned as The Hobbit trilogy. After all, Hogg provides a highlight reel view in comparison to this which amounts to more or less the same result. A performance for the ages, and a distinct feeling that the work gone in, and toll taken may just have seen the band top out, each of the three major creative entities (Lennon, McCartney and Harrison) having feelings that perhaps a jump out alone could be beneficial. Whether they’d been feeling deep down that inevitable split would be permanent or temporary, who knows.
I’d seen Hogg’s film years ago, but coming into Jackson’s series was one of anticipation and excitement. Then I saw the run times for each of the three sections (“Blimey Pete, you’ve done it again boy.”). Intimidating but hardly surprising. I also went in having been a passing admirer of The Beatles. An appreciator of their most iconic works and of the fact they had created almost innumerable iconic, groundbreaking songs. I wouldn’t claim to own the entire back catalogue, or to have heard the even more innumerable off cuts, B-sides, and fragments of half formed songs that ended up on cash-in, relentless album releases. Jackson is thoroughly undisciplined in creating a series, spread over the near three weeks of time the group first sat down (after some time away from each other) to create and record a daunting 14 song roster. Oddly though, where other directors might have succumbed to editorial brutality to make a more structured and linear series, Jackson creates time and space. He envelopes us into the recording settings (first at a soundstage in Twickenham, then the Apple studios in London).
Perhaps it’s the fact it’s The Beatles, the most iconic pop group that has ever existed. Where they differ too, from say modern pop acts, is this ability to traverse so many musical influences and genres. Above all it’s three highly accomplished, practised and passionate musicians. Proper musos, the kind who don’t generally exist in the most mainstream musical avenues now, a time of manufactured acts, and studio production. Throughout the picture we see McCartney play the bass, guitar, piano and even have a go on Ringo’s drums. George plays guitar, a little piano and has a go on Ringo’s drums. Lennon plays Guitar, bass, slide guitar and the piano. There’s as pure a love of music and creation as you’re ever likely to see. Each member having a distinct fascination and love of the other instruments that might not be their speciality and they make everything seem effortless.
All these moments are played out by a director clearly in awe of this whole process and perhaps fighting every objective desire to slice a little here and there. Yet throughout this documentary, where we feel both the length of the days and the passing of time, we also feel the immediacy of a tight deadline with songs needed from scratch and a performance piece worthy of the bands legacy. In being so inefficient in pacing possibly aids the overall impact of this documentary, even if it perhaps could have been split further, into six parts to create more pace friendly breaks (I had to watch part 2 and 3 in shifts as an example). The film is allowed time to breath to show just how impulsive the creative process can be, just how difficult the focus can be for a band with increasingly different approaches and ideas (and attitudes).
A particularly brilliant moment shows a five minute stretch where McCartney is riffing on his own as a slightly exhausted Ringo and George half watch on. It’s that brief period where he forms a passing thought into the structure and hook that becomes Get Back. To a viewer it looks like genius, although to his bandmates it’s probably a dime-a-dozen moment they’ve been seeing for ten years. The ease at which each member slips into unison with whoever is playing is also impressive. Ringo waits, perched on a kit for much of the film. Things tend to start through McCartney or Lennon, and he’s ready to seamlessly throw a beat in, with George bringing the rhythm too. Occasionally a band member arrives when the others are playing. He nonchalantly strides up, picks up his instrument and joins in.
There’s long been a growing contrary response to The Beatles. It’s been particularly prevalent over the internet age, and more so in the last decade where vitriol, snide commentary and trolling have risen from the background to nearer the forefront. “The Beatles are totally overrated.” How does one oversell a list of great songs possibly as large as anyone? A history of iconic live performances, eclectic albums and an ability to branch across music into film too. “George is the talented one.” This is another doozy. Occasionally it boils down to this idea that you’re somehow more in the know than other casual, plebian music fans, when you say that George was really the great talent of the band. It’s one thing to say he was underappreciated. He certainly was. Lennon and McCartney even make reference to this after Harrison quits the band (before being persuaded back). An immense and initially undervalued songwriter, Harrison was a musical genius, but to bring that point over and dismiss McCartney and Lennon is odd. As the documentary shows, in great detail, the pair almost effortlessly create magic as they chip away and craft songs, or simply play around and cover other artists they admire. Additionally, there’s no overriding sense of musical ego among them (even from Lennon, which was another dispelled myth here).
When the band invites a renowned session music, Billy Preston, to play organ on a few tracks there’s a noticeable shift in mood, where prior, underlying frustrations were beginning to simmer. The band revels in having Preston there, even if just to jam with him at times and there’s a real appreciation of his musical talents (additionally they never stifle it and allow him plenty of room to solo). One of the great know it all myths that ‘experts’ have long perpetuated too, is that Ringo wasn’t very good at drumming. I defy anyone to watch the effortlessness of how he backs up the group in this, and not tell me he’s not a superb drummer. Perfectly complimentary, never overpowering. Further, I’d never quite appreciated just how good McCartney’s bass playing is.
The biggest thing which may come out of Jackson’s documentary is in undoing several decades of vitriol that has been aimed at Yoko Ono. Often deemed the catalyst in breaking up the band, she’s essentially been the subject of what amounts to little more than a campaign of misogyny and racism. If Get Back’s recording was deemed the straw which broke the camels back for the band (the subsequent Abbey Road album recording would ultimately finish them), where the friction turned irreversible, then Jackson’s doc shines a light on Yoko’s part in the separation. This is to say, she features heavily, doing very little. The band have no real animosity to her or issue with her continued presence, particularly given everyone brings a spouse or friend in at some point (including Linda Eastman, soon to be McCartney). She dotes on Lennon, a man who is wholly unswayable in his ideas and ideals anyhow. She’s quiet, but fascinated by the work and warm with the others in the moments they acknowledge her. She also lets loose with some of the trademark caterwauling that became a noticeable trademark and figure of fun for detractors. Interestingly, McCartney makes a wry passing comment which happened to be particularly foreshadowing. Something along the lines of; “We’ll break up and in years to come they’ll blame it on Yoko sitting on an amp.”
The other biggest surprise too is in the bands relationship here. Whilst Harrison’s departure is abrupt and a moment that certainly foretold what was to come the following year, there’s never any explosions of tension. It’s often been thought McCartney and Lennon’s growing tension might often have come to more of a head. The reality wasn’t major arguments, shouting matches or fisticuffs, it was just a growing separation of ideas. The classic writing credit combination Lennon/McCartney was often attributed even when the respective song was created more or less by one alone. As it is, at this point it feels like McCartney is the significant creator, followed by Harrison. Lennon seems almost dry, his mind undoubtedly beginning to wonder what he could do next, probably knowing it wouldn’t sit in line with the band. Lennon seemed satisfied to let McCartney lay foundations here and embellish on top. Yet Lennon wasn’t entirely miserable (another half fallacy). He’s a perpetually sarcastic Joker, prone to bouts of humour and playfulness. He breaks out into dance with Yoko, or into regional accents in wry asides (some of which McCartney occasionally joins in on). It might surprise people how much humour is shared, particularly among those two (their long affiliated chemistry still very evident then), even when it’s clear these moments are shifting their focus from the slightly arduous task of creating. It’s essentially this attempt to do something groundbreaking again, at a time when the band was becoming stifled by their own legacy.
This lengthy and fascinating piece further opens up the tantalising possibilities of what may lay out in the archival ethers that could be brought to life in documentary form. Not just The Beatles, but other artists too. Jackson again brings a fresh, modern, visual gloss to historic footage as he did with his stunning WWI Documentary. The treasure trove available to cut from thanks to Hogg’s footage is probably incomparable to what might be around for others, but we can hope. Additionally, though undoubtedly heavy and indulgent, for fans, it’s never less than fascinating, and Streaming is the perfect platform to be unnecessarily long. Furthermore, the whole culmination with the final rooftop performance is so inherently unique and in a way cinematic. This is perhaps the one failing from Jackson’s finale, such is the nature of his slow moving beast, that the arrival of Police to attempt to shut it down, never turns the final moments into the cinematic caper it had the potential to be, and in all honesty, the band repeat several songs during their set and we probably could have got by with one of each to quicken proceedings and give us a little tension.
Have you seen The Beatles: Get Back? What are your thoughts? Let us know on our social channels @flickeringmyth…
Tom Jolliffe is an award winning screenwriter and passionate cinephile. He has a number of films out on DVD/VOD around the world and several releases due out in 2021/2022, including, Renegades (Lee Majors, Danny Trejo, Michael Pare, Tiny Lister, Nick Moran, Patsy Kensit, Ian Ogilvy and Billy Murray), Crackdown, When Darkness Falls and War of The Worlds: The Attack (Vincent Regan). Find more info at the best personal site you’ll ever see here.
