I Bring You Bats, and Horned Toads, and . . .

Beatlemania would have occurred without Richard Lester, but the man gave it one heck of a nudge.

Historical Background: Richard Lester, despite being known mainly as a British film director, was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1932. He was so precocious as a boy that he entered the university at age fifteen, studying for a degree in clinical psychology. He moved to Great Britain n 1954 and spent most of his professional career there, although sometimes working elsewhere in Europe or in America. British television was just getting underway and Lester, with just over a year of experience himself in American television, was already the one who could teach others. He was hired by the BBC as a director, with the proviso that he train other directors as well. One of his first projects was "The Dick Lester Show," a variety show that survived exactly one episode, but that proved enough to catch the attention of Peter Sellers. Over lunch one day, Sellers and Lester devised the idea for a television version of the already popular BBC radio comedy, "The Goon Show." The popular program that resulted, called "Idiot Weekly," helped form Lester's approach to comedy.

Lester directed his first film, The Running, Jumping, and Standing Still Film in 1959. It was shot during a single afternoon in the country, using some of the cast from "Idiot Weekly." The total production cost was £60, yet it earned an Academy Award. It was partly on that basis that producer Walter Shenson tapped Lester, in 1964, to make a film featuring a young group of rock musicians, called The Beatles. Shenson had signed a contract for three films for the group and, at the time, didn't really think it a very promising deal. The Beatles, however, had acquired some recent momentum in England, in the autumn of 1963, and Shenson felt that it would make good business sense to release a movie as quickly as possible in case the youngsters proved to be just a flash in the pan. Shenson's instructions to Lester were that he had to make the picture for under £200,000 and have it in the theatres by July, but Shenson was more than happy to give Lester complete artistic freedom. "This is the amount of money we have; we'll see you at the premiere," he had said. Shenson was confidant that Lester's propensity for frenetic comedy, physical humor, and sight gags would show these young musicians to good effect. And so it did!

The Story: The film opens with a long chord, followed by The Beatles rendition of the title song, "A Hard Day's Night." Behind the opening credits, we see three of The Beatles being chased by a wild mob of excited fans. The film then follows the lives of The Fab Four as they travel from one concert site to another, hang out in dressing rooms, go to parties, dance at a club, and attend a press conference, where they sass the reporters. On the train, we meet Paul McCartney's rickety old grandfather (Wilfred Brambell), who is a bit of an old coot and a troublemaker. He usurps Ringo's invitation to a casino, convinces a group of girls on the train that The Beatles are convicts in transit, and provokes two of The Beatles' managers, the short Norm (Norman Rossington) and the tall Shake (John Junkin), into an argument over height. Later, Paul's grandfather magnifies Ringo's feelings of being under-appreciated by the others, precipitating a crisis when Ringo then walks out shortly before a concert, much to the consternation of the TV director (Victor Spinetti). A police chase adds to the faintly anti-authoritarian tone of the film and the fantasy that, in England, teens rule. George Harrison has a solo piece in which he offers advice to a product marketer, Simon Marshall (Kenneth Haigh), who needs a "teen perspective." John Lennon has a short solo scene chatting up Millie (Anna Quayle), but Paul's solo segment, with Isla Blair, was cut from the film.

Themes: The film's theme is the two-edged sword that is fame and celebrity status. For success, musicians, actors, athletes and other kinds of performers need an adoring public, and the more the merrier, but celebrity status also has a crushing effect of the star's freedom of movement and privacy. Beatlemania ranks as one of the most extreme examples of fan worship run amok, though many other instances have occurred in entertainment history. The Beatles could not enter or exit a building or a mode of transportation without being swarmed. They profited handsomely, financially, but Lennon paid with his life, one might argue, and Harrison was also stabbed with a knife. One of the actresses in A Hard Day's Night, Isla Blair, tells a story that illustrates the price of fame. She was working together with Paul McCartney on a scene that was ultimately cut. At the end of a long filming session, he asked her if she'd like a ride home. She accepted and they went to the "secret" entrance where the cab was waiting, but there were some fifty screaming fans to wade through to the car. McCartney was poked and groped by the mostly female mob but the envious girls dealt with Isla far more harshly. She was pelted and her hair yanked, along with being offered an assortment of choice insults. The next day, when McCartney again offered to see her home, she declined, saying she'd rather take the tube.

I was twenty when Beatlemania began and, frankly, I was nonplussed by it. Almost a decade earlier, I had watched my older sister scream when Elvis Presley appeared on the Ed Sullivan show and thought that rather ridiculous, though I later came to enjoy Elvis's early recordings. I suppose part of my aloofness toward Beatlemania had to do with being male and another part with being twenty, rather than still a teen. The main factor, however, is that I've never had much respect for fads or adulation of stars of any kind. I understand and join in respecting and admiring those celebrities who have genuine talent, but demonstrative adulation of stars strikes me as contemptible for two reasons. First, it is vastly damaging to the quality of life of the very person one claims to adore, by destroying their ability to go out in public or pursue a normal range of activities. Second, it's also demeaning to the person engaging in the adulation. Hero worship to that extent suggests a deficiency in self-esteem. Then, add the factor of herd mentality inherent in phenomena like Beatlemania, and it is really quite unappealing. The herding aspect of it strikes me as cut from the same cloth as such problems as mob violence, vigilantism, and blind nationalism.

If you want a true idea of just how crazy Beatlemania was, consider this wonderful story told by actor Kenneth Haigh, who played Simon Marshall in A Hard Day's Night. Haigh was also performing in plays at night while he was filming with the Beatles during the day. He was appearing in The Tempest. Somehow, word of his association with the Beatles must have filtered out because one evening the theater was filled with teenage girls. They sat quietly through the Shakespearean drama until Haigh came to his line, "I bring you bats, and horned toads, and beetles." The auditorium then suddenly erupted with wild screaming.

The Beatles grew as musicians throughout their years together, from the early sixties right up to 1970 or so. In my opinion, they were not especially accomplished in 1963/4, when Beatlemania struck, first in England and soon thereafter in America. In 1964, there was a lot of tension in America and throughout the world about possible nuclear annihilation and four wholesome, smiling musicians having fun on stage was just what everyone needed. Certainly, the spirited personalities, the fresh-scrubbed look, and mop hairdos were already fully in evidence, but their music was no better than average among rock groups, at that time. George Martin, in his interview that accompanies the 2-disc Collector's Edition DVD, is open about the fact that the songs performed in A Hard Day's Night were collectively not among the Beatles' better numbers. He also says, however, that The Beatles never wrote two songs that were the same. The Beatles, as musicians, were constantly experimenting and growing. The Beatles elevated themselves above their competition, musically (as opposed to charm and sex-appeal), beginning with the album Rubber Soul, in December of 1965. Then, with each of the next four albums of new songs, they further elevated their craft another step each time. Revolver (1966) was a step above Rubber Soul. Then Sgt. Peppers Lonely Heart's Club Band (1967) was even better, and cleverly marketed with a collage jacket. Magical Mystery Tour (1968) was another step forward and The Beatles (White Album) (1968), the first on their own Apple Label, was so good that it could be sold in a plain white cover with just the words, "The Beatles" embossed in small letters that were hardly noticeable. Count me among the fans that went to the nearest music store to buy that album the first day it was out. By then, The Beatles had genuinely earned every bit of adulation they would receive, but in 1964, it was just a cult of personality. Not that the songs in A Hard Day's Night aren't pretty good and entertaining, but real fans of the group know that musically, they were just a pale hint, in 1964, of what they would later become. They were still boys, but by 1968, they had aged what ought to have been two decades, as musicians.

Production Values: A Hard Day's Night was nominated for two Oscars. One was for the musical direction and the other for the screenplay by Alun Owen. It was both original and masterful. There had been plenty of previous films featuring rock musicians, but most had been terrible embarrassments. Presley's Jailhouse Rock (1957) had been one notable exception. The Beatles had no experience as actors so Lester and Owen agreed, from the beginning, that The Beatles would be playing themselves, so that they would be as natural as possible. For their part, the Beatles were initially nervous about making the film, having noted how poorly rock musicians had fared in most such previous efforts. They were relieved to learn what Owen and Lester had in mind. Owen observed the young singers closely for a few days in order to get a sense of their personalities, lifestyles, and, most importantly, their conversational vocabulary and style of banter. He witnessed firsthand the feverish Beatlemania that had seized British teenagers, especially the girls and young women. Owen then drafted an engaging spoof – a kind of mockumentary – based on the real life frenzy surrounding The Beatles at that time. Owen also wrote in comic parts for experienced actors to provide something barely recognizable as a plot.

The dialog is witty and spirited, incorporating lots of Liverpoolian vernacular and accents. One recurrent witticism is the observation, in relation to Paul's grandfather, "E's very clean." That's something of an in-joke and theater-reference because, prior to A Hard Day's Night, comedian Wilfred Brambell was best known among Brits for his work in the play Steptoe and Son (a precursor of the American series, Sanford and Son), in which he was accused of being "a dirty old man." The clever dialog is complemented by plenty of sight gags, such as in the famous scene in which The Beatles finally find some freedom by frolicking in a large, vacant soccer field. The pace of the film is very quick, partly due to Lester's familiar quick edits. Throughout the film, Lester incorporates bits of surrealism, which makes the occasions when the Beatles break into a performance numbers seem all the more natural.

The script was also designed with consideration for its potential impact on the Beatles' image and commercial value. It didn't take a genius to realize that all of those screaming teenage girls wanted to fantasize about ending up with one of the four lads or another. It was therefore decided that none of the boys would have a specific love interest in the film, so that they could continue to appear to be vaguely "available." A Hard Day's Night turned out to be quite a piece of promotional genius, magnifying The Beatles' already monumental popularity. Lester and Owen also did a fine job giving each of the lads a distinctive characteristic, based at least partly on the reality of their circumstances. Paul was presented as cute and adorable, John was the creative, cynical one, George was the serious one, and Ringo was the under-appreciated, ugly one in the back.

The cinematography for this film had to be pretty basic. It was being shot quickly and on a modest budget. That meant mostly handheld cameras. That might have been a weakness in another kind of film, but, for A Hard Day's Night, it merely added to the sense of breezy spontaneity. The film is a joy to watch precisely because it comes across as so much spirited loopy-ness. When the film was nearly done, George Martin called Lennon and McCartney and said he needed one more thing from them: a title song. The next day, they had written "A Hard Day's Night," which opens the film, and it became a big hit. Imagine writing a hit song in one night! The film features the following Beatles' songs:

A Hard Day's Night
I Should Have Known Better
If I Fell
Can't Buy Me Love
And I Love Her
I'm Happy Just to Dance with You
All My Loving
Tell Me Why
She Loves You

Extras on the Collector's Edition DVD: Disc One is mostly the film itself, in pristine digital transfer. The one feature on Disc One is a 36-minute documentary, consisting of comments by various people involved in making the movie, from the producer, director, and screenwriter, right through the various performers, as well as some behind-the-scenes footage. Some of the material was extracted from the longer interviews found on disc 2, ranging from 5-10 minutes. It's a very thorough collection, including segments with Director Richard Lester, Musical Director George Martin, Producer Denis O'Dell; cast members John Junkin, Lionel Blair, Kenneth Haigh, David Janson, Anna Quayle, Jeremy Lloyd, and Terry Hooper; the film and sound editors, members of the promotion department, the wardrobe man, and the hairdresser; and longtime friend of the Beatles, artist Klaus Voorman. There are no appearances by the two surviving members of The Beatles and no musical tracks, even for George Martin's discussion of the songs.

Bottom-Line: Lester's career moved into high gear after A Hard Day's Night. He made a second movie with The Beatles, Help! in 1965. Then he followed those successes with The Knack . . . . And How to Get It (1965), which won a Palme d'Or at Cannes. Some of his other successful films were A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966), How I Won the War (1967), Petulia (1968), Juggernaut (1974), The Three Musketeers (1974), The Four Musketeers (1975), Royal Flash (1975), Robin and Marian (1976), Cuba (1979), Superman II (1980) and Superman III (1983), and The Return of the Musketeers (1989). Recently, it was suggested to Lester that A Hard Day's Night had made him the father of MTV. He replied to the intended compliment by demanding a paternity test!

As for The Beatles, well they simply went on to be the most famous group in rock history. This fine film captures them as an emerging phenomenon. Stylistically, it was unlike any film that had come before it. It was a stroke of genius on the part of Lester and Owen to present The Beatles as their own selves and to build from their unique qualities of personality and musicianship. Lester knew that he had a great film, but was still nervous about screening it for the producers, since they knew nothing about its style or content. After the screening there was dead silence from the group, which was naturally composed of old-fogies. Finally one of them said, "I don't know what that was all about, but I think we're going to make a lot of money!" And so they did!