A Hard Day's Night: The Beatles Have Arrived to Stay Forever

If one were to dissect the fantastical hybridization of genres within Richard Lester and the Beatles's A Hard Day's Night, it might look something like a pseudo-mock-doc-musical-proto-music video film...Well, it was worth the shot, but I would like to strip away all that and categorize it as free-form fun, through and through. The timelessness, disregarding the huge fact that the Beatles, themselves, have become timeless, is found in the diversity in technique and the brilliant carelessness of any solid function within the film. The film, made in 1964, was said to have taken only two weeks to shoot. Frankly, it does seem that way, but just as frank, it looks raw and fantastic. We start out with the iconic scene of the Fab Four running away from an army of screaming girls, one of them falling (not improvised, mind you), and it seems like that is the philosophy of the film in general, which is perfect. 

Then there is another aspect of the film that is so bizarre but fits appropriately with the free-flowing mantra of the filmmakers. Take, for instance, the scene in the train where the old man sits with the band. Generational tension arises through quick one-liners here and there and the Beatles are fed up and leave the room. We then seem them outside the train, running along side of it and then teasing the old man. It is a moment of brilliant arbitrariness that we can only smile at. We don't question it or scoff at it because, in the end, they are the Beatles, who, at this time and for the screaming girls watching it, seem to transcend any sense of time and space. Thus, they can do whatever they want. Note the hilarious gag with Lennon in the bathtub. The world the band lived in was unimaginably crazy, so such craziness is embraced by the film and gives the film and the story a playful edge.

One very intelligent element of the screenplay was the distribution of lines the guys were given; they are made up of one-liners and direct observation. The Beatles seem to do well at delivery, retaining the sense of carelessness and playfulness, and there are memorable pieces of dialogue that arise from such simplicity: Ringo Starr describing himself as a 'mocker', George's reaction when he sees a man in the wardrobe, and Lennon's wise-cracks. All this works because the amount of lines given to them doesn't seem forceful but, again, free-form.

When it comes to form in a more technical perspective, cinema-verite comes to mind instantly, and this film may have popularized the technique. The camera work correlates with amateur film, further immersing us with the fun in the day in the the life (no pun intended...aw, who am I kidding) of the Beatles. Spontaneity seems to be the motivation, and some of the running scenes have shaky cameras, but it never feels overdone. When the show they perform in starts, the camera work changes to half static, half frantic, the frantic shots being the ones of the slightly neurotic girls turning into mush, whose screams almost drown out the Beatles as they sing 'She Loves You'. There is a shot of a girl breaking into tears, no actor can mimic that. A Hard Day's Night is a constant blend of authenticity, fantasy, and absurdity that meshes together in such a captivating manner.

Renowned film critic Roger Ebert has it one his Great Movies list, saying, "...it stands outside its time, its genre and even rock. It is one of the great life-affirming landmarks of the movies." I agree, wholeheartedly. In the same sense that Singin' in the Rain and My Neighbor Totoro have limitless joy, A Hard Day's Night becomes something that celebrates this joy. In addition, it has become a document of a time that seems like it will never happen again; a time where we see the Beatles as both innocent and full of youthful energy before they become (for better and for worse) convoluted with drugs and disillusionment. Nevertheless, A Hard Day's Night becomes something much more than a promotional, which is what it started as. Here is a film that doesn't place the Beatles within the context of a predetermined cinematic structure. Rather, it goes for a ride and treats us to wonderment and exuberance.

The Band Wagon: "The World is a Stage! The Stage is a World for Entertainment!"

In 1953 Fred Astaire was fifty-four years old and it is safe to say his prime had passed; the fantastical age with Ginger Rogers has vanished, his stardom faded. The film, The Band Wagon, even begins by directly addressing this facet; the first scene has the famous top hat and stick Astaire was known for in his 30s films being auctioned off. It turns out that not even if the bets started at fifty cents would the people want to bid for it. It is a strong, albeit amusing, testament to Astaire's lasting image, a man of the museum, as Cyd Charisse's character says so in a later scene. Yet, even though physically and athletically, Astaire doesn't match his roles of yesteryear, he never loses one ounce of his slick goofiness as well as his well-deserved hubris he seems to carry around. Take note of his first dance number, "Shine On Your Shoes", where he masterfully moves within the active space, whether it just be confined to the shoe shining chair or the rest of the congested penny arcade. His interaction with co-star Leroy Daniels is phenomenal and bursts with joviality as well  as nigh-miraculous timing. The Band Wagon is not only a colorful musical with complicated numbers and exquisite dancing, but it is a film on how individuals approach the craft; the film becomes a reflective account of this approach to dance. It not only draws from the classic suave of Fred Astaire, but it also draws on the sublime seductive trance of Cyd Charrise, comedy, tragedy, and much more. In the end, it is all about they way in which individuals compromise for the good of the entertainment.

It is crucial to note the writers of this film, Betty Comden and Adoph Green, since they were responsible for what I consider the greatest musical of all time, Singin' in the Rain. Their screenplay and the numbers insinuate more than just the present state of mind of the characters. In this film, specifically, it is geared towards the arts. The whole number of "That's Entertainment" expresses the diversity of form in which entertainment can take the shape of, whether it be a slapstick or 'Macbeth'. The film itself delves into how a film and a play is made, although that is secondary to the actual numbers. Nonetheless, the screenplay brings out these observations and it is a joy to see a film, like Singin' in the Rain before, that is self-reflexive and builds upon such a perspective.

Basically, the story goes that Astaire, now a washed-up song and dance screen actor, is called to New York city to be apart of a musical his friends have written the screenplay for. They choose to get the hot auteur Jeffrey Cordova to direct the musical. Cordova, who begins to distort the original screenplay into a modern day  rendition of 'Faust'. He says the leading lady must be the ballet dancer on the rise, Gabrielle Gerard, play by Cyd Charrise. Astaire and Charrise don't see eye-to-eye at the beginning, their differences come with how they approach their craft. Yet, it takes the famous 'Dancing in the Dark' number to free them of their conventions and work together. It is quite endearing to see how this number starts. Charisse and Astaire dawdle in a park, both looking different ways. You can see Charisse's face and body slowly start to sway with the rhythm of the music. Then, causally, she spins to the side with Astaire, just as casually, following. The rest of the number is elegiac and intimate. The way it ends too is absolutely brilliant.

The play is a bust, yet Astaire gets the idea to stick with the original screenplay as they showcase the musical across the country, where the film ends with a series of numbers, including the strangely involving "Triplets" and the masterful "Girl Hunt Ballet". Much in the same realm as "Broadway Rhythm" in Singin' in the Rain, "Girl Hunt Ballet" is abstract and surreal, the sets are distorting and expressionistic. It is basically an expressionistic noir ballet, combining the grace of the art of dance with the stark composition of film noir. This number can only be done on film, the tricks the filmmakers and choreographers did are astounding and immerse the viewer with such vibrant visualization. The dancing is the epitome of such a visual feast, where the piece in which Astaire and Charisse dance in the bar/brothel is done with such intensity and action. Astaire enters the local with a guise of absurd lust. Charisse becomes a seductress (once again when regarding her role in Singin; in the Rain). Though when she is just acting she seems restrained and has a hint of innocence. When she is dancing, she becomes dominant and sensually imposing. The last number in the film encapsulate her characteristics. What makes the dance so enthralling is that Astaire and Charrise dominate the dance, their physicality doesn't combat each other but, instead, amplifies their relationship and interactivity.

As I stated earlier, this film is a story about how we approach the craft of art or, rather entertainment. The three most important characters, the one's of Astaire and Charisse as well as Cordova, all initially have different feelings and perspectives on the musical they set out to make. Entertainment only works when everyone is on board, and that is exactly what happens in the film, amid the plethora of diverse dance numbers, which is apt because the film approaches dance from several different angles.


The Band Wagon is one those films that is just more than a good time, and it is such a good time to watch. It has continuous activity within each dance, lyric, and set-piece. There is much to be said about art in this film, and I think it is gracefully handled. There are many different ways one can approach a story or a feeling. One thing is for sure, Astaire and Charisse knew their approach and they delivered such serenity and conviction. In regards to Fred Astaire, he showed the world he still had it, both within the film and outside of it.