Mr. Ginley: Oh, look! It's the movie, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. In Blu-ray. Want to watch it?
Me: I've never seen it. The movie really got panned when it came out in, what, 1978?
Mr. Ginley: I thought it was pretty good. You know it has Peter Frampton in it. And the Bee Gees.
Me: Well, Peter Frampton was pretty easy on the eyes. Barry Gibb, too. Okay, we can give it a shot.
So, Sunday evening we popped in the the disc and began to watch.
The premise was plausible enough. One Brit and three Australians, alleged natives of Heartland, U.S.A., take up the name of a band that was popular during the first half of the century, and start playing Beatles tunes.
Peter Frampton plays Billy Shears. The Gibbs brothers play the Hendersons. (Late of Pablo Fanque's Fair). Billy Preston plays Sgt. Pepper.
The music was reasonably well done. But someone was smoking something mighty powerful when they came up with the premise.
We watch as the improbable (certainly not a strong enough word) plot unfolds. A record deal is signed by getting the lads boozed and doobied up. They move to Los Angeles, where they are seduced by a team of, frankly, pretty skanky looking women. They party, they record, they go on with their lives oblivious to the fact that back home, the bad guy has stolen the town's instruments that were said to keep the moral fiber of the town on the straight and narrow. The town turns into a modern day version of Sodom and Gomorrah. Billy Shears' girlfriend (her name is Strawberry Fields) packs up and departs to the strains of She's Leaving Home to bring back the boys and save the day.
In the meantime, there is a van equipped with robots, Alice Cooper sings Because to his classroom of robotic followers, and Steve Martin, as Dr. Maxwell Edison, croons Maxwell's Silver Hammer. And, oh yes, Aerosmith plays a bad-boy band (big stretch) singing Come Together.
Spoiler alert: The lads return to the home of their birth and save the day.
Throughout the flick, Mr. Ginley says, "That's not from the Sgt. Pepper album, is it?"
"No, that's from Abbey Road," I reply. Or the White Album. Magical Mystery Tour. Let it Be. Revolver. Rubber Soul.
There are a lot of clever references to Beatles lyrics. Mr. Kite, played by George Burns, is a featured player. (Yes, THAT George Burns. He dances AND sings. Bless his heart.) The bad guy is named Mean Mr. Mustard. And there is a Lucy. In the sky. With diamonds.
When we at last get to the boisterous, happy ending, the whole town comes out to sing. And, inexplicably, their are many familiar but up-to-that-point-unseen, faces. Carol Channing. Keith Carradine. Wilson Picket. Helen Reddy. Bonnie Raitt. Tina Turner. Peter Noone. Etta James. And many, many more. (Presumably to mimic the cover of the original Sgt. Pepper album, which featured a hodgepodge montage of celebrities.)
Well.
It was at this point that I reminded Mr. Ginley of his earlier opinion of what a good movie this was. His defense was his age and circumstances at the time he saw it. (i.e. There may have been alcohol involved.)
He also pointed out that our son, having viewed Paul Blart, Mall Cop, proclaimed it was the best movie he'd ever seen. Of course, he was not an adult at the time, so he may be forgiven (if still teased about it).
Did I enjoy the show? I can't say it was 113 minutes of my life well-spent. But there were elements of nostalgia that I suppose made it somewhat palatable.
On the other hand, we didn't pay good money for the movie, we could take it back to the library. So that's a plus.
A big plus.
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