February 1, 2023
"Get Back" finally captured the Beatles' pain.  Not only from the band - 01/12/2021

“Get Back” finally captured the Beatles’ pain. Not only from the band – 01/12/2021

No Movie ‘Yesterday,’ the musician played by Himesh Patel is sitting at the piano after asking his parents to play a new piece of music. Jack Malek then begins playing an introduction familiar to the viewer’s ears but not to the audience sitting on the sofa.

In the story imagined by director Danny Boyle, Malik is the heir to the booty of a band no one’s ever heard of. Blackout makes these people in the room witnesses to the world’s first classic show.

The constant interruptions of the cell phone and the doorbell and the parallel conversations with the visit attach the masterpiece to the most ordinary urgency.

“Oh Jesus, this Song It is so be it! You are the first to hear this song on earth! It’s like seeing Leonardo da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa, that masterpiece, in front of you! Can you calm down for just a second? “

In “Get Back,” the mega-documentary directed by Peter Jackson and released in part by Disney+ last weekend, profanity of this sort appears on screen in droves.

The recordings are the result of 140 hours of soundtrack and 55 hours of film recorded on 16mm by director Michael Lindsey Hogg between January 2 and 31, 1969. The idea was to make a documentary film for a film and a televised broadcast. that month. That’s why John, Paul, George and Ringo needed the birth of new songs to get what would appear after years away from the public. Ants do more than work for cicadas.

In one scene, the morning after a tiring day, handyman Mal Evans asks Paul McCartney if he can think of any new music. What will happen next is the actual editing of the scene from ‘Yesterday’ – only in the ‘Long and Winding Road’ version.

Evans, the first person on earth to hear one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever, does not seem to realize that he is in front of the Mona Lisa – one of many compositions made there, in perilous and stifling conditions. Before the chorus, McCartney interrupts with a question about the logistics of the frustrated show.

Evans isn’t the only one out there who has scratched the Mona Lisa with crayons.

Also select columnist Pedro Antunes is here on Splash, watching nearly ten hours of the documentary about the documentary edited by Peter Jackson is like checking out a prototype of the reality show, without the intervention of Boninho.

The lack of a master to coordinate the action is exactly what makes the film a giant portrait of an era. Everything there is a mess. Everyone seems lost. Starting with Lindsay-Hogg.

In the remnants of the somber documentary that would have taken her to movie theaters shortly thereafter, “Let it Be,” images of this dispersal now abound. Under Jackson’s orchestration, this dispersal gives another meaning to the work and to the history of the band.

Yes, John, Paul, George, and Ringo were tired. Yes, the band was finally. Yes, coexistence is no longer easy. But yes: they were still able to have fun, laughing at their stress, at their own limits, and making it, consciously or unconsciously, a fusion on the verge of being lost.

This scattering, with its open world of possibilities, is the disturbing and essential part of the entire work. It’s what brings and separates the musicians in the forced interaction during the creation process and puts some of the great decades of that century into perspective. These nodes still haunt and shape the exiled children of Eve, more than 50 years later.

There you can see the artists mourning in the face of the death of the young people they once were, although traces of that childhood early in their careers can be seen here and there. None of them had even turned 30 yet—Paul, in an attempt to fill the leadership void left by Brian Epstein, the band’s manager and (for some time) patron who had died a year and a half earlier, was just 28.

He opens the game in his own way and complains about the absence of the father figure. In a rare moment of agreement, everyone agreed with the diagnosis: they needed someone to tell them what, how, and when. In short, it gave meaning to what they produced.

There, orphaned children, who have made up for the determination of a young fraternity, speak for about ten years, and the absence of other references to authority—a fundamental absence of understanding the pleas for help in their own words, particularly the songs of John and Paul. Now in those days they didn’t seem so sure of themselves. And they cried out for help, for someone to give some dimension to what is right or wrong, what is safe or not, in this sequence of existential ramifications represented by knots, tangled wires, and feedback in a labyrinthine environment that seems to transform everyone there into the characters of a song.” Nowhere Man,” the man from nowhere, sitting in the land of nowhere, with plans that don’t exist for anyone.

Yes, it was the easiest time when the authorities, politicians, religious, family and social references offered a brochure, with prizes or slaps at the end of the trip, explaining what and how to do it.

But we were in the late ’60s, and everything in that decade was in dispute. And beliefs that adults knew something about what they were doing or talking about were shattered by the bombs thrown in the great wars that defined that century.

But even the Beatles, the hallmark of a generational rebellion, who took to the stage in uniform, as if ordering the death of a leader among themselves, seemed to need this sign.

Mourning for Epstein, developed in his own way in front of cameras scattered throughout that studio, wasn’t the only death predicted there. The new social roles of artists demanded a break, essentially, of the old fashion, in which the camaraderie of young people fit into any peculiarities of an educated adult. Genius or not.

Paul, with his full beard and more elaborate clothing, is the first to understand this urgency. Not without dueling with himself. He insisted all the time that it was necessary to play and go back to what they were before, in appeal to the past both near and far away now. But no one is the same anymore.

His mood swings as much as we do when he sees his desperation. The earnest driving performance of friends was neutralized (or compensated for) shortly thereafter with a few more sips, when he finally relaxed and also joined in the fun.

The father figure in Paul McCartney is already drawn carefully in relation to little Heather, daughter of Linda Eastman, his companion and her constant presence on the recordings.

George Harrison also seemed mired in the same struggle, but silently. For him, discontinuity was preceded by a journey inward, into a spiritual whirlpool already present in his compositions and courtships of Hinduism. This also requires space, space.

Ringo, in one scene, tells us without the slightest excitement that his partner is pregnant. A “congratulations” protocol is heard before returning to the production belt.

John Lennon, for his part, is the person most rebellious against all roles and an impending breakup. Not the band itself, but the new necessities for the pain of yet another birth.

The absent parent of the first child pretends to be his presence by dancing, grinning, and apparent inability to take anything seriously, the last moments of late adolescence. (The playful and seemingly careless tone, each time, they can’t stand it anymore, they need to re-record the songs that even today make us tear our souls with tears, almost a revelation of disappointment, industrial, a recurring mechanical secret, formula-dependent, For them, it had nothing to do with her. They also didn’t know they were facing the Mona Lisa.)

In short, life was just what happened while everyone else was busy making other fanciful plans for a triumphant comeback.

Throughout the entire documentary, Lennon’s reference is repeated to the speech in which Martin Luther King, who died a year earlier, said he had a dream.

I planned that party, at first huge, that included glorious dreams to mask the intense fear. The Sabratha Amphitheater in Libya was too small for many plans and a lot to fear.

The unconscionable movement of the project until the band surfaced once and for all (excuse the pun) only reinforces the evidence that there was no adult in that room – or a lawyer who went there to say that the final idea was going to fail. That number was the adult that the boys once sang “Please, please” he didn’t want to be.

John had a dream and didn’t know which one. A year later, he confessed in the song “God” to those who perished, like Nietzsche, that the dream was over. With him, his belief in magic, the Bible, Tarot, Jesus, Buddha, royalty, Elvis Presley, and of course the Beatles.

In a shocking irony, when he was murdered in 1980 in front of the Dakota Building in New York, Lennon was finally at peace with this role he so vehemently turned down. In an almost perilous way, he tried to say that his interest in this ant business led to two Films And in the album “Let it Be” there was talk about communication with the audience. He knew the audience consisted of boys like them, who had come out of their childhood begging for love and in adulthood desperately begging for someone to come back. Back to where we all came from.