Mad About Musicals: A Hard Day’s Night (’64) by Anthony Miglieri
A Hard Day’s Night captivated youth audiences in the late Summer of 1964. It captures one of the biggest bands of all time at the zenith of their popularity, known as Beatlemania. Before the Fab Four decided to hunker down in the studio and fire out sophisticated masterpieces such as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Abbey Road, they were a pure pop outfit optimized for public consumption. A cursory glance at the hordes of teenage girls and boys (but mostly girls) in the iconic title sequence confirms this.
If this Richard Lester-directed film had only documented the Beatles at this time, its position in history might still be cemented, but it also represents what was then the cutting edge in filmmaking. Only a few years after the French New Wave breathlessly revolutionized film language, Lester was inspired to use their groundbreaking cinematic techniques in A Hard Day’s Night. There is no small dose of Godard and Truffaut in the handheld camerawork, loose black-and-white cinematography and creative shots. Alongside the Beatles’ exuberance and music, the technique makes for a tight, stylish package.
Almost six decades after its initial release A Hard Day’s Night still remains fresh, thanks in large part to the charisma and popularity of the Beatles and the “fly on the wall” sensibility of Lester’s semi-documentary realism. However, it was another element that stood out most to me when I recently viewed the film for the first time: Ringo Starr.
Much of A Hard Day’s Night’s storyline flows in the same frenetic spirit of the opening chase sequence: John, Paul, George, and Ringo find themselves in a series of shenanigans en route to a televised concert. Paradoxically, the frenzy seems to be almost monotonous for the lads; what with all of their performances and evasions, the calm that most non-Beatles call their lives seems almost alien. Except for Ringo.
At a later point in the film, we find the droopy-faced drummer sitting alone in a cafe. We learn that in his free time, he likes to read “bewks,” as Paul’s grandfather calls them. The wily codger accosts Ringo for being so boring and docile. Paul’s grandfather prods Ringo to go “parading” (partying and chasing girls). However, when Ringo follows this advice, the Beatles’ drummer just finds himself lonely and awkward: he bums around with children by the River Thames, hurls errant darts into restaurant-goers’ sandwiches and makes inept attempts at chivalry.
Eventually, Ringo does return to the band to perform the concert, but the ‘parading’ sequence remains essential to the heart of A Hard Day’s Night. Especially for someone like myself, who has never had a propensity for partying, the idea that Ringo is in his element when he sits and reads books is both charming and touching. For all of its energy and cool—both in its protagonists and in its filmmaking—A Hard Day’s Night also proves to have a sharp, thoughtful ear for the beautiful calm, and even the awkwardness, of life.
tcm