At the end of May I was supposed to have traveled to New York University to give a talk on my Beatles research, in particular, the film A Hard Day's Night which recently celebrated its 50th release anniversary as well as a Criterion release. I have plans to publish part of that research here on my blog at some point in the future, but for now, you can see the abstract here:
At the end of May I was supposed to have traveled to New York University to give a talk on my Beatles research, in particular, the film A Hard Day's Night which recently celebrated its 50th release anniversary as well as a Criterion release. I have plans to publish part of that research here on my blog at some point in the future, but for now, you can see the abstract here:
A Hard Day’s Night and the Mythology of the Beatles
In 1963, The Beatles were approached to appear in a new movie to promote themselves and their music. The result was A Hard Day’s Night, a film that takes on many characteristics typical of what is often referred to as the “backstage musical.” While the narrative arc is slightly different, the film holds to the paradigm of rehearsal sequences culminating in a final show. Yet rather than letting that final show be the ideal performance, the film undermines the group’s big performance by making the more intimate, spontaneous moments of music making earlier in the film more enjoyable and aurally pleasing.
On the fiftieth anniversary of the film’s release, this presentation will look back at how A Hard Day’s Night is interested in perpetuating the mythology of The Beatles as performers and music-makers. What makes the film an interesting study in the band’s mythology, however, is how their most unified, complete, and satisfactory moments of music making are away from the live audience, making music for a few intimate listeners or just for themselves. While the film itself draws upon the “backstage musical” for its narrative form, the film itself is more interested in exposing the relationship between the listener and the recording, and representation versus reproduction. Dick Lester’s film alters the backstage musical formula to create a new Beatles mythology, one that would be amplified when they stopped touring and used their albums as the ultimate, most satisfactory, musical experience.
One of the more intriguing moments in the film for me has been the final performance in the theater, where the Beatles play in front of a screaming crowd of young fans reminiscent of a jet engine. During this performance the songs are noticeable slowed down and are nearly a semi-tone lower in pitch from the recordings.
This plays into my argument of the live performance being inferior to the private performance of an LP record at home. The smaller, more intimate performances of the Beatles throughout the film, with just a handful of on-lookers (or just themselves) participating in the performance sounds so much better than the "live" performance in the theater. Why not just buy more of their records to get a more enjoyable experience than seeing the group live and barely being able to hear them? Or being able to hear them, but hearing an altered version to compensate for the restraints put in their performance by the conditions?
This plays into my argument of the live performance being inferior to the private performance of an LP record at home. The smaller, more intimate performances of the Beatles throughout the film, with just a handful of on-lookers (or just themselves) participating in the performance sounds so much better than the "live" performance in the theater. Why not just buy more of their records to get a more enjoyable experience than seeing the group live and barely being able to hear them? Or being able to hear them, but hearing an altered version to compensate for the restraints put in their performance by the conditions?
I learned an interesting tidbit when I picked up a copy of the recent Criterion release.
That makes so much sense. There are quite a few moments where we see the Beatles performing, but through the monitors in the mixing booth. The slower frame rate allowed the film cameras to capture the monitor screens without that noticeable flickering, the equivalent being seeing computer screens in a movie or TV show.
Because there wasn't the digital editing techniques and software suites we have today back when this film was in production, there wasn't a way to slow down the songs and keep the pitch the same. The result? The songs sound lower. And interesting, I see this as still justifying my claim. Not even a movie is good enough for the Beatles; to get the "real music," you need the LP.
It is worth noting that, as well as having different mixes than the original album tracks do, the songs are slower in the film than on the albums. This difference is quite noticeable during the scenes where the Beatles are rehearsing and performing in the television studio. Our understanding is that these scenes were filmed at 25 frames per second, rather than the usual 24 frames per second, so the TV monitors could be shown without any aliasing effect (flickering).
That makes so much sense. There are quite a few moments where we see the Beatles performing, but through the monitors in the mixing booth. The slower frame rate allowed the film cameras to capture the monitor screens without that noticeable flickering, the equivalent being seeing computer screens in a movie or TV show.
Because there wasn't the digital editing techniques and software suites we have today back when this film was in production, there wasn't a way to slow down the songs and keep the pitch the same. The result? The songs sound lower. And interesting, I see this as still justifying my claim. Not even a movie is good enough for the Beatles; to get the "real music," you need the LP.
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