Object #66 - Poker Chips - A Hard Day's Night (1964)

Dir. Richard Lester 

A great film is one you can return to after many a year, finding your viewing experience completely changed. My first viewing of Blade Runner had me intrigued, but frankly, a little bored - this at the age of 15/16; my second viewing, age 17/18, had me drawn into the world of neon, smoke, and Replicants, fully comprehending the plot this time around, and starting to appreciate the subtext of the narrative; third viewing, not long after, it became (and remains) my favourite film. It wasn't a 'click' moment, but rather the unveiling of a beautiful art piece that resonates to my very core, bit by bit, each viewing. Although I will admit, it can drag in places, I wasn't wrong that first time, but I was missing so much. 

So far in my amateur dive into all things film, it's a rule that has stayed true - if you leave a film with the thought "That was...alright", but with a feeling in your chest and brain that there's more to uncover, then, boy, that might just be a film that resonates with you. Always trust your gut. It works for TV as well, with my latest example being the finale to Doctor Who's series ten, The Doctor Falls. First viewing - great moments, choppy scenes, a smidge unsatisfying. Second viewing, day later - a 10/10 episode, the closest Who has ever come to mythological storytelling, with the bonus of sticking the landing. Moments such as the departure of a secondary companion, which felt rushed and weak first time around, become beautifully understated and thematically satisfying exits when you know the outcome and structure of the episode, and have mulled it over a bit. 

In the case of A Hard Day's Night, I first watched it at around the age of 17, during that sacred period that everyone (it must be everyone, right?) goes through in their life - discovering The Beatles. This odd little B&W, mock-documentary, where the Fab Four seem to be there only to perform all the iconography that you would later see in Beatles photo-books, attached to articles online, and on all sorts of merch. You think of The Beatles, you think of images like the one below, except maybe in your head they had groups of screaming girls behind them. It doesn't matter, because like all pop culture, it seems to be in not only your DNA, but everyone's. Fine details non-existent - a cultural hodge-podge of screaming girls, twangy guitars, harmonised vocals, and suited young Liverpudlians? That's more like it.

The film itself was neither here nor there. It was almost a check-list tick -

 i) A Hard Day's Night 

ii) Help!

iii) Magical Mystery Tour

etc. etc. 

To know The Beatles was to have listened to all the albums, viewed all the films, and caught up on the fifty year head-start every older person on the planet seemed to have. The film is a culture piece, not in the sense of reflecting culture, but the fact that it is culture. Does is matter if those screaming girls at the start of the film were real fans, actors, or a mix of both? Not a bit, because if Lester wanted to catch reality he could have had them actually run out on a street and roll a camera. Instead, what we have is an encapsulation of Beatlemania, and one that is done in the eye of the storm of 1963, by the filmmakers and The Beatles themselves, as the boys 'act' scripted versions of their own personalities. It's reality, enhanced. The camera angles as the fans rush into the foyer do so much to convey excitement, and are in fact almost more true recordings of the emotions The Beatles created, than it would be to plonk a camera in the middle of the street and record rabid fans in real-doc fashion. 

Here then, my first viewing of the film was almost the most accurate, as it was consumed by myself as a part of the myth of The Beatles. I didn't pay attention to things like shot composition, camera placement/movement, or editing, I simply experienced the film on a visceral level, and what I saw was a reflection of Beatlemania, the humour of the Beatles (Did they trade quippy one-liners like that in reality? Doesn't matter, that's how they've passed into pop culture.), and of course, the music of the Beatles early in their careers. 

Skip ahead a good few years, and here I am re-watching the film, almost everything from that first watch with regards to plot forgotten - the most remembered being Paul's grandfather (Wilfrid Brambell) and stuff happening on a train. This time I know what was happening in 60s cinema, not in encyclopedic detail, but enough of an understanding to know what was the common style (particularly in Britain) and which filmmakers were pushing boundaries. Lo and behold, this mockumentary thing I passed off as fodder in the Beatles myth, suddenly becomes a precursor to MTV,  kinetic documentary cinema, and a contemporary to the French New Wave. 

Here's a film which takes the rebelliousness in film-making that Truffaut, Godard, and Chobral were beginning to display in films like Breathless, or The 400 Blows, and not only successfully mimics it from a British viewpoint, but manages to add to it a unique spin. From my experience, the early New Wave tends to use editing as its most potent weapon, in an obvious way. Whereas, with A Hard Day's Night, the camera itself seems to be doing more of the work, particularly the way it's placed. 

Take for example, the famous Can't Buy Me Love sequence, where the four leave the stuffy recording studio, head down the fire escape, and dance in a field like a bunch of kids. Smarter people than I have analysed each and every cut, but what I love about the camera-work is how them simply going down the fire escape has such energy. The way the camera looks up at them, light twinkling through as their feet clatter down, the camera turning, following their action. It's not rocket science, but the camera is selling this feeling of freedom, and it's working with the music, not against like the stagey set-ups of the rehearsals inside. 

Honestly, even look at that screenshot above, and notice how Ringo opens his arms, welcoming the world, happy to be free. Yet paired with the church, and the religious imagery of Christ on the right side of the shot, that famous quote of The Beatles "Being bigger than Jesus" swims into your mind and is made truth - here they are, fresh from recordings that will conquer the living rooms of thousands/millions, ready to be embraced as deities, and yet deities that want something money can't buy, love, and the simple pleasure of frolicking in a field. Even that is enhanced by the film-making to become a stepping stone to their conquering of the medium of editing, and music video itself. 

Do you see how I wasn't wrong that first time around? But now my eyes are opened and I can see! See the majesty of The Beatles! Not only as musical pioneers, but as avatars of the quick-cut, hand-held shot, music videos we all love today, and which feed themselves in and out of film itself, the place where the likes of Ridley Scott (lest we forget, the director of Blade Runner) and David Fincher would cut their teeth. 

But, beyond all this film magic, what I love about A Hard Day's Night is Paul's Granddad. He's unique to this film, a creation of Alun Owen the screenwriter, an older man to counterbalance the four, and bring a more classic sense of British humour to the film. Nowhere is this blend of styles more apparent than the party scene early in the film, scored to I Wanna Be Your Man, and All Your Loving, where the editing literally makes a point to show Paul's Granddad up to some japes in a casino, as the boys (scored by their own revolutionary music) party, trade quips with guests/journalists, and in the case of Ringo, awkwardly but lovably dance. Yet, both are funny.

There's a great bit where Paul's Granddad is playing baccarat, and upon finding he's lost all his chips, he hastily scrawls a bill on a piece of paper, puts it on an empty plate, walks over, flapping a towel over his arm, and presents it to a patron on the nearest table. The patron, looks, scowls a bit, then puts two chips as payment on the plate. Granddad returns to the baccarat table, tips the chips out and places a bet, exclaiming "Bingo!" as he nibbles on some food.

It suddenly feels like and Ealing comedy, and a damn good one as well, as the move of Paul's granddad is surprisingly effective, completely off-the-cuff, and endemic of a British guy who's a bit weaselly but completely lovable. Who better to portray this than the 'dirty old man' (or is it clean, as the four keep reminding us?) Wilfrid Brambell, famous as Arthur Steptoe? This clash of styles is echoed by the camera-work, as the casino scenes are more static, traditional affairs, which cut right into hand-helds of Ringo dancing, showing us the difference in generation - but each funny, unique, and mythological in their own way. Paul's Granddad with a foot in the past, BBC, Ealing, older-fashioned suit vs. The Beatles, music to openly dance to, novel camera-work in exteriors rather than the studio, and suits which disguise the rebellious youths.  

In sum, watch films from every era, re-watch films that you have unfinished business with, and discover the connections and synergy that comes from generations working together to create something that will stand the test of time. Dance like a child, be a crafty old geezer, take your camera outside, make music, and remember that money can't buy you love.