Yesterday afternoon, I watched A Hard Day’s Night, Richard Lester’s chronicle of early Beatlemania and the Ur-pop film, the prototype for the “get me to the stage on time” band movie. How strange to see the Fab Four with that retrograde insouciance, before the cares of the world took over (or perhaps before Al Aronowitz introduced them to Dylan), before snarls and quarrels and ‘artistic differences’. Just four likely lads from Liverpool, shot beautifully by Gil Taylor in crisp black and white, women in pursuit, the world lain out at their feet.
I’ll write a full review of the film soon, but I just thought I’d get those thoughts out there first.