{"id":409,"date":"2012-10-08T19:06:17","date_gmt":"2012-10-09T01:06:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/millheiser.com\/hokeyblog\/?p=409"},"modified":"2012-10-09T09:59:49","modified_gmt":"2012-10-09T15:59:49","slug":"film-review-sgt-peppers-lonely-hearts-club-band-1978","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/millheiser.com\/hokeyblog\/2012\/10\/08\/film-review-sgt-peppers-lonely-hearts-club-band-1978\/","title":{"rendered":"Film Review: “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (1978)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Rating: Are you kidding me?<\/em><\/p>\n

I don’t think you have\u00a0really<\/em>\u00a0lived until you’ve watched the Bee Gees engage in a disco kung-fu battle against poorly choreographed nurses while Steve Martin, gyrating in the corner and performing a rather freakish Peter Lorre impression, dodges blows from a\u00a0silver cane swung by Peter Frampton.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. With this review of\u00a0Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band<\/strong>\u00a0— the movie — there is a myriad of mirth and merriment to maintain our meticulous melange!<\/p>\n

(I think I’m about to be sued by Stan Lee…)<\/p>\n

I’ll start off this review with a bit of blasphemy (to some): The Beatles landmark 1967 album of the same name is probably the most overrated rock album of all time that isn’t\u00a0Pet Sounds<\/em>, and I say that as a longtime, near lifelong raving Beatlemaniac. After retiring from touring in 1966, the Fab Four were freed from the frantic and frankly fictitious frivolities (sorry Stan!) of life on the road and spent months in the studio\u00a0crafting the Sgt. Pepper’s album. Utilizing (for 1967) state-of-the-art recording techniques, lush orchestral arrangements, and some of their trippiest lyrics to date, as well as evoking an atmosphere that fuses a psychedelic symphonic performance, a mad carnival, pulsating pop art, and a madcap helicopter ride with the Maharishi, the Beatles emerged with such pop classics as…\u00a0She’s Leaving Home<\/em>,\u00a0Fixing a Hole<\/em>,\u00a0For the Benefit of Mister Kite<\/em>, and\u00a0Good Morning<\/em>, four of the most forgettable loads of donkey doots ever pressed to vinyl.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Landmark album… but not their best.<\/p><\/div>\n

Now don’t get me wrong, there are some true classics on the record. The title tracks are still as infectious as ever (both the opening and reprise),\u00a0With A Little Help From My Friends\u00a0<\/em>is Ringo’s diamond moment in his eight years as a Beatle,\u00a0Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds\u00a0<\/em>remains the greatest accidental nod to hallucinogens ever,\u00a0When I’m Sixty-Four<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0Lovely Rita Meter Maid<\/em>\u00a0represent Paul at his pop-catchy best, and, thirty-six years after it was recorded,\u00a0A Day In The Life<\/em>\u00a0is still one of the greatest damn songs ever made… period. Yes, the Sgt. Pepper’s album certainly was a good album. Often a great album. Even an influential album. But pure Beatle perfection? Feh. Give me the trifecta\u00a0pop craftsmanship and musical confidence of\u00a0Help<\/em>,\u00a0Rubber Soul<\/em>, and\u00a0Revolver\u00a0<\/em>, the eclectic madness and studio genius of\u00a0The Beatles\u00a0<\/em>(a.k.a.\u00a0The White Album<\/em>), or the majestic perfection of Abbey Road<\/em>\u00a0any day of the week.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Umm… movie review?<\/p><\/div>\n

(Yes, we’re getting to the movie. I promise!)<\/p>\n

The Beatles broke up in the spring of 1970, surprising no one who had seen more than four seconds of the\u00a0Let It Be\u00a0<\/em>movie, but the greatness of their legacy had only just begun to bloom. No, I’m not talking about Wings or the Plastic Ono Band, but rather the near mythic quality that the music of the Beatles had rightfully achieved. This brings us forward to 1978, a time in which album oriented rock and disco reigned supreme over the musical landscape. Big-time producer Robert Stigwood, who guided the rock-opera behemoths\u00a0Tommy\u00a0<\/em>and\u00a0Jesus Christ Superstar\u00a0<\/em>into fruition and was flush off of the slam-bang twin successes of\u00a0Saturday Night Fever\u00a0<\/em>and\u00a0Grease<\/em>, apparently felt that the time was right for a big-budget musical featuring many of\u00a0the Beatles’s timeless classics. Apparently, someone felt that this was a good idea, even without the slightest iota of participation from the Beatles themselves (save for fifth-Beatle George Martin, who was brought in to tweak some of the music.)<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

It’s just emoting that’s takin’ them over…<\/p><\/div>\n

Despite the fact that The Beatles’s songs don’t exactly lend themselves to a single coherent story, or that the Sgt. Pepper’s album itself was a “concept album” only in spirit rather than in narrative (anyone who can draw a prosaic flow between\u00a0Getting Better<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0Within You Without You\u00a0<\/em>gets\u00a0no-prized<\/s>\u00a0my heartfelt admiration in perpetuity), producers Stigwood, Bill Oakes, and Dee Anthony hired screenwriter Henry Edwards to craft a story framework around two-dozen late-era Beatles tunes. They then signed 70s superstars Peter Frampton and The Bee Gees to play Billy Shears and the Henderson Brothers, the reborn “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”, in an effort to lend the project an air of mainstream superstar credibility. They then threw in some hot rock and pop artists such as Aerosmith, Earth Wind & Fire, and Alice Cooper, cast various celebrities in key roles (George Burns as Mr. Kite, Steve Martin as Dr. Maxwell Edison, and Donald Pleasence as B.D. Hoffler), secured $18 million to make the film, and sat back to watch the many-millions of Beatles fans worldwide fork over their hard-earned shekels to experience this four-color musical masterpiece!<\/p>\n

Except that it didn’t quite happen that way.<\/p>\n

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band<\/strong>\u00a0is a cinematic abortion, the type of which that simply\u00a0has\u00a0<\/em>to be seen to be believed. It’s a bauble of badness, a mercilessly cheesy, completely overwrought and thoroughly misguided attempt to create the ultimate rock musical adventure, but instead ending up as perhaps the most singularly awful embarrassment to be ever associated with the Beatles, and I’m including the\u00a0Magical Mystery Tour\u00a0<\/em>movie in that assessment. This is the type of horrific monstrosity that could only have emerged from the Seventies, a decade which propagated the supremacy of embarrassingly awful and insipidly cheesy Network Variety Hours; in fact, if you could possibly imagine of\u00a0a two-hour episode of\u00a0Pink Lady and Jeff<\/em>, you can perfectly encapsulate\u00a0Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

If you remember these clowns… you’re officially old. Mazel mazel!<\/p><\/div>\n

So what’s so abominable about the film? Well, let’s start with our principals. Frampton and the Brothers Gibb are certainly respectable singers\/musicians, but as actors… well, there’s more shameless mugging going on here than after an Oakland Raiders loss. The musical adaptations are extremely spotty: Earth Wind & Fire bring the house down with their fantastic cover of\u00a0Got To Get You Into My Life<\/em>, and the members of Aerosmith acquit themselves very nicely with\u00a0Come Together<\/em>. But just when things seem interesting, they hand George Burns a guitar and have him sing\u00a0Fixing a Hole<\/em>, grab two drag-queen\u00a0robots and make them perform an embarrassingly rancid rendition of\u00a0She’s Leaving Home<\/em>, and, during a segment which seems to go on for roughly six hours, appallingly misinterpret the classic\u00a0I Want You (She’s So Heavy)<\/em>\u00a0in such a vile montage that it made one yearn for the nuanced subtleties of William Shatner’s timeless cover of\u00a0Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

This movie KILLED Peter Frampton’s career. Really.<\/p><\/div>\n

The film is so bad, so embarrassing, so shocking, so cringe-worthy, so unbelievably….\u00a0unbelievable<\/em>… that it tops my personal list of must-see misfires. This is the type of bad movie that is so abysmal that, right before your eyes, it rewrites the living definition of “So bad, it’s outstanding!”<\/em>\u00a0I love this movie. I partake of its bright color gruesomeness like a shaman at a peyote ritual. It exists as some kind of permanently sealed relic of the late 1970s, a prism of sound and color that grew out of disco, roller-skating rinks, high school band rooms decorated with various rock album covers (mostly Boston and Pink Floyd), Battlestar Galactica in\u00a0its first-run broadcast on ABC,\u00a0an endearing innocence in the face of popular malaise, an attitude of embarrassingly cheesy goodness that simply doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe you just had to be there: I was seven in 1978 and this entire film just reeks with my memories of the era.<\/p>\n

In any case, it’s as I mentioned before:\u00a0Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band\u00a0<\/strong>is without a doubt the most awful film I totally adore.\u00a0Now… for those of you who are new to this\u00a0mountainous turdburger<\/s>\u00a0fantastical musical adventure, drop everything and rent this film as soon as possible. It has to be seen. It must be experienced. It’s a great big sweaty heapin’ helpful of everything that made the late 70s such a wonderfully embarrassing time. Big, loud, howlingly awful and deliciously\u00a0cheesy, God bless\u00a0Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Is it over yet?? Oh Jebus please…<\/p><\/div>\n

WAIT!! I haven’t even begun to rip apart\u00a0that screamer of an ending!\u00a0Right after we’re subjected to the appalling site of Billy Preston prancing around in a gold lam\u00e9 jumpsuit, a few dozen\u00a0second- and third-string singers, musicians, and celebrities get together to sing the film’s final farewell (“We’re Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band… we hope you have enjoyed the show…”<\/em>), including such quizzical stalwarts as Peter Allen, Keith Carradine, Carol Channing (!), Jose Feliciano, Helen Reddy, Jon “Bowzer” Bauman, Wolfman Jack, and Hank Williams Jr… well, once you pick your jaw up on the floor and jab a fork into your eye to make sure that you’re not drowning in the midst of some nightmare, you just might find yourself admiring the sheer stones of everyone involved in this monstrosity. And that’s before this entire group starts breaking out in some of the most bizarre disco moves ever committed to screen.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

What the what, I say, what the WHAT is a-goin’ on here?<\/p><\/div>\n

Please see this movie. Just the fact that\u00a0Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band\u00a0<\/strong>is out there in popular awareness gives me hope for the future of mankind. It’s just about the most\u00a0watchable, lovely, and endearing atrocity ever filmed.<\/p>\n