Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is truly delightful! A classic!

Last night, presented by the American Cinematheque at the Egyptian in Hollywood, we saw Sgt. Pepper on the big screen for the first time in 25 years, and it not only "holds up" (as aging movie geeks like to mutter while their fantasies needlessly crumble), it is as fresh, funny, charming and touching as it was when we saw it in the summer of 1978. Blessings to director Michael Schultz, writer Henry Edwards (where are you, fellah?), obviously very busy producers Robert Stigwood, Dee Anthony and Bill Oakes, bright-eyed DP Owen Roizman and of course that music fellow George Martin and those English blokes who wrote such sensational songs. I hope they still have a little money left over, in addition to all the love and joy. (Don't go hungry, Paul; call if you need a few quid.)

Yes, there are thousands of brilliant films to adore, and of course it's common to find a scapegoat to flog, but the sweetness of this movie is undeniable.

It would be very easy to ramble for a couple of days about the wonders of this eternally surprising cast, but I'll save that for parties at B.D.'s pad or the Heartland gazebo. Simply, just try to watch Billy Preston (those boots!), Sandy Farina (!), George Burns, Steve Martin (!?!?!?!), Alice Cooper, Frankie Howerd, Paul Nicholas, Aerosmith, Donald Pleasance, Dianne Steinberg, The Earth, The Wind and The Fire, Stargard (????) and the rest without smiling or getting one of those weird "tingles."

Particularly, Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees -- Barry, Robin, Maurice (goodnight, Brother Gibb) -- commit themselves to a unique, today almost unknown sense of silly good humour. Admittedly, it's a bit uncomfortable when Barry croons to his brothers that he'd "love to turn them on," (egad!) but -- like the sometimes staid framing and cutting -- it's worth overlooking in appreciation of the bigger picture. If you love Rocky Horror, Shock Treatment, The Magic Christian, The Robe, Python's musical offerings, Visconti's The Leopard, Phantom of the Paradise, The Star Wars Holiday Special, Intolerance, The Muppet Movie, Xanadu, Summer of Sam, Happy Campers, The Conversation, The Wiz, On the Waterfront, Spice World, Infested, Yojimbo & Sanjuro, X-2, Bugsy Malone, Potemkin, Grease, Repo Man, Richard Lester's oeuvre, Pennies From Heaven, American Graffiti, Badlands, The Tigger Movie, Little Odessa, The Tattoo Connection or, heck, Singin' in the Rain, High Society or Disorderlies, there's plenty to enjoy here, and no reason to be a mindless bully or snob about it.

Everybody sings really splendidly, too, and Sandy Farina's presence in her one lead role (to date) is unforgettably lovely.

Nice one, Sandy.

While we're at it, why not commend Carel Struyken for being a really good "Brute," and Patti Jerome, Max Showalter and those disturbing robots for tugging our heartstings in "She's Leaving Home" (this version still moves me more than Tori Amos' nice take).

Who knows what bizarre energies converged behind the scenes to bring this thing together (not to mention landing Etta James, Leif Garrett, Barry Humphries, Tina Turner, Sha-Na-Na, Jose Feliciano and Wolfman Jack on the same risers at the finale), but whatever it was, thank you. (Use that great IMDB "more" clicker to scan the credits.)

Now please release a proper widescreen, ZONE-FREE, global DVD packed with extras ASAP. (I cheerfully volunteer as interviewer for the commentary, since no one else on the whole planet would have the guts.) This version from Brasil is pretty good for a full-screen with no chapter-stops (Steve's freaking through "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" right now), but -- like Shock Treatment, The Fabulous Stains and others, the public deserves a good look at this stuff.

Sorry if that sounds like a threat.

Let the pleasure be guilty no more!

If you are looking for a movie that you can just sit back, relax and forget about the world, this movie is it.

In 1978, when I was 12 years old, we were living in Moscow, while my father was stationed at the Canadian Embassy. To escape the "fun" of living behind the Iron Curtain, we routinely took the Moscow-Helsinki express and travelled around Scandinavia. Our trip always ended at this huge department store in Helsinki, where we'd order all our non-perishable groceries until our next trip. My brother and I were allowed to purchase one record apiece to take back with us.

So one time, I picked up the soundtrack to this film. I don't think the movie had been released yet. Goodness knows, I didn't know that the movie was going to be a howler. All I know is that I loved the soundtrack. I listened to it over and over, and pored over the photographs on the album cover, trying to get a sense of the movie.

A few years later, I read "The Golden Turkey Awards" and then I started to realize how bad the movie was. I didn't get my chance to see it until 1997. Oh, it stunk! Cheese everywhere, from the awkward love story to the campy antics of the villain and his robots.

And yet, I watch it every time it comes on TV. Finally, I have the movie to go with the soundtrack. And let's face it - I love cheesy movies.

This was considered one of the biggest cinematic disasters of its era---a film that virtually destroyed the careers of the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton, and recording mogul Robert Stigwood (a giant at the time) likewise disappeared from view. Thirty years later, there are no less than 13 pages (so far) of blistering denunciations of this movie here at IMDb.

I have never understood any of this. I had a good time with the film when I was young, and in later years, it still held up for me. It certainly is no classic, but if you are willing to relax and meet it halfway, you might find yourself having a good time. It is fun watching people like Steve Martin, Frankie Howerd, and Donald Pleasence hamming it up, and George Burns is always enjoyable.

Once, I said all of this to an acquaintance in person, and his response was: "Why would I want to hear Beatles songs if the Beatles aren't doing them?" Herein lies the film's problem, I think. Fans of the Beatles consider their music to be untouchable---very few artists have tried to do covers of Beatles songs, and the few who have met with hostility. Fans of the "fab four" carry a lot of weight, and they consider covers of the music to be nothing less than blasphemy. Consequently, when this innocuous film came out, they went on the attack and never let up.

Come on, lighten up! It is a fun, innocent little film.

A Beatles fan all my life and this was a pleasant surprise as I had avoided it over the years as being pastiche cliched crap, but hey, life is full of surprises. And I like it. Just shows that brilliant music can make a mediocre story look good. Never the other way around. Bee Gees and Frampton were good choices.