Context is key in one’s enjoyment of the 1970 Beatles documentary “Let It Be,” now re-released in a restored version on the Disney+ streaming service.
Although it was filmed in January 1969, “Let It Be” first came out in May 1970, one month after Paul McCartney publicly announced his breakaway from the Fab Four, and hence, the documentary was interpreted as a sad and mournful swan song for the supergroup.
Today, in the wake of Peter Jackson’s “The Beatles: Get Back” docuseries in 2021 which utilized unused “Let It Be” footage and reputedly depicted a more joyous aura of the band, the latter comes off as a shorter version of “Get Back” with a seemingly happy and relaxed vibe.
Why the radical difference? For one, the documentary, helmed by music video director Michael Lindsay-Hogg, is shot “cinema verite” style, thus eliminating narration that would slant the movie towards any clear historical or emotional context. All that one objectively sees is a band cooped up in a studio and going through a series of lengthy rehearsals and jammings, expressing moments of both cheerful energy and ennui, and in just one occasion, getting on each other’s nerves. Are they sluggish and bored out of their skulls, or — using an expression that wasn’t available at that time — simply being “chill”?
They play and sing a variety of soon-to-be-recorded-and-released songs in their raw form, including the solemn title cut with slightly varied lyrics (“There will be no sorrow.”) and portions where McCartney as the soloist skips the higher notes. In the early goings, we hear “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” which would become one of the sillier cuts in the Beatles’ farewell album “Abbey Road.”
We sense the power play in which McCartney appears to be calling all the shots, and John Lennon, with wife-to-be Yoko Ono in black as a silent but constant presence, playing along and not minding at all. On the other hand, there’s George Harrison’s passive-aggressive conversation with McCartney where George states, albeit grudgingly, that “I’ll play what you want me to play.” When Harrison later joins Ringo Starr in a joyful rendition of Starr’s kiddie song “Octopus’s Garden,” we realize the hierarchy being established: McCartney and Lennon (and maybe even Yoko) are the bosses, and Harrison and Starr are the underlings, the former getting to be a rather disgruntled one.
Nonetheless, the bearded McCartney comes off as a benevolent director, trying to pull the group together with persuasion rather than force. Lennon, who had long been regarded as the group’s leader, simply coasts along, perhaps (allegedly) with the help of substances or because he is obliged to behave in front of Ono.
All the Beatles are shown to be individually talented, making their eventual split feel perhaps less painful. All of them can play and sing with gusto, Starr perhaps to a lesser extent for some in the vocal department, but he does show off his flair in novelty tunes like “Garden” and some of his skill at the piano. And in case you might ask: no, Ono does not sing here.
What both the sad sack and the Polyanna viewers can probably agree on is that the film ends in a kind of liberation when the Fab Four finally bust out of their self-imposed isolation in the Apple Corps studio and perform a number of songs on its rooftop, in a way prefiguring the outdoor Woodstock Festival that would occur some months later, and drawing the curiosity and at times, consternation, of onlooking Britons on the street. It’s a dramatic finish that perks up the previous laid-back vibe.
So, can we then say that “Let It Be,” shorn of obvious affective gaslighting, shows the unvarnished truth? Not so fast. Lindsay-Hogg has admitted that the iconic Apple rooftop scenario was no spontaneous Fab Four move, but his deliberate attempt to end the docu with a bang. The gambit, as we all know, pays off, in a case of subtle cinematic manipulation trumping slice-of-life reality.
In an ideal world, I would have wanted to see a documentary on how the Beatles, with producer George Martin, created the album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” arguably their most ambitious and critically praised effort, and perhaps the studio atmosphere would have been more inspired and excited.
But why complain? Whether you end up weeping, laughing or simply high, “Let It Be” remains a precious and early, relatively concise, in-your-face documentation of a great, if not the greatest, pop band at work. Either way, it moves you. Rating: 4 out of 5 stars.
