I don't write diary entries enough, or things of the sort. I've been looking at this comp assignment of mine up, down and sideways for three days now, and I can't seem to see a way to make it work.
Also, I admit, I take extended breaks to do research on The Beatles.
But what are The Beatles, really? I love their music, but that's not what's making me do all this research, because I honestly can't tell you, for instance, whether Ringo's an excellent drummer or not. (All I'm aware of is that he's my favorite, and that he would continue to be my favorite even if it turned out he didn't know which end of the drumstick to hold.) It's the drama that intrigues me; all the individual characteristics of everyone bristling against each other. Not just the Fab Four, but their wives, their managers; each a conflicting character study. I guess I'm just fascinated by plain old people.
So why don't I write about my own family more? That's the thing that's killing me. Because I don't want to be a transcriber. I did that, when I was younger; tried to write down conversations as they came. All I got were hurt fingers. Either I want to write down everything, or I shut down and I don't write anything at all. I should be more of an open book. Starting…now.
Anyway, yesterday Clair and I made some tea and watched A Hard Day's Night. Great movie, and fascinating because back then people had a completely different concept of the "vehicle for hot young stars" film. It's a comedy, and it's a British comedy, which means the humor is all slap and bite and disjointed bits of oddness. From what I've read about John Lennon, that sort of thing suited him just fine; he's utterly believable as the guy who responds to an older man's rebuke by leaning in and saying snidely, "Give us a kiss." I assume that the screenwriter was capitalizing on the Beatle's popularity with the younger generation by pitting them against their elders, among which he himself numbered one.This dynamic gets an interesting reversal in the film's rather vestigial plot, which sees Paul looking after his "grandfather"--a "clean"-looking old fellow with a sneer that could break glass, who defies his appearance by repeatedly running off to try and meet women.
Oddly enough, Paul McCartney--he of the charming face and the left-handed bass--puts up a minimal presence even under these circumstances, and the other three Beatles steal his show. John, always the character, is just as much at home dunking toy boats in a bathtub as he is sassing his elders (in the same scene, even), while George, the quiet one, manages to nearly equal John's sarcasm with a few well-placed eyebrows and some laconic use of Liverpool slang (what does he think of a new line of shirts they've asked him to advertise? "Grotty!")
But it's Ringo Starr who stands out for his portrayal as the sad-sack of the group, by turns embittered and resigned, with an abrupt laugh that serves him equally well as he a) makes a lame joke that his bandmates politely ignore and b) gets asked a standard "girlfriend" question by an interviewer (with the implication apparently being, "Girlfriend? Me?") Despite receiving--in a touch taken right from the band's real-life experience in America--more fanmail than the others, he refuses to believe that any of the screaming girls who pursue his buddies might harbor an interest in him. When a young lady in a train car beckons, he first looks dumbfounded and then gestures at George, as if to say, "Nah, you must be looking for him." It's interesting to see that the standard "Ringo as the expendable Beatle" joke isn't some recent development, but actually a carry-over from the band's early days, quite possibly originated by Ringo himself. It should be noted that the real-life Ringo, like his counterpart in the film, has been alternately encouraging and fighting against this perception for years.
However, these observations must be put to a halt, as I'm unfortunately not supposed to be writing an essay about Ringo Starr. I'm supposed to be writing about education, and I can't see my way around it.
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