The Movie

In what is probably my favorite of all the reviews I've written for DVD Talk, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, I remarked about how that particular cinematic abortion film in question had earned the distinction of being - and I quote - "perhaps the most singularly awful embarrassment to be ever associated with the Beatles." Well, I had yet to see Paul McCartney's 1984 pet project Give My Regards To Broad Street. Which is a rather odd statement, given that I've been a raving Beatlemaniac since I was 10 years old. I scarfed up anything even remotely Beatle-related like hopheads at a Shoney's buffet. I begged my Dad to take me to see A Hard Day's Night at a local arthouse in 1982, stayed home from watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on opening day to catch a local showing of the 1968 film The Magic Christian, featuring not only Ringo Starr in a major role but a scene that featured two big, hairy, sweaty heavyweight boxers passionately making out, a scene which emotionally scarred me for years. Years , I tell you. Thanks Ringo.

So anyway, by all rights I should have seen Give My Regards To Broad Street in 1984. I remember Paul had a hit song from the movie with No More Lonely Nights, which received some pretty heavy rotation on MTV and contemporary radio. But the reviews were positively scathing. It was reviled as being a boring, meandering, pretentious mess with some occasional entertaining musical performances strung around a plot as inconsequential as Cliff Notes for a Dan Brown novel.

So I avoided Give My Regards To Broad Street entirely. Well, not entirely; I caught a few scenes on cable once, but they didn't leave much of an impression as being entirely entertaining or utterly without merit. So here we are - twenty years later after the film's release - and I finally sat down and gave the film a good old college try.

The verdict?

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band doesn't have to worry. Its infamous distinction as the most colossally revolting Beatles-related embarrassment remains intact.

But Give My Regards To Broad Street came close. Very close. As in, the two shared the Green Room right before the ceremony.

And that's not to say that the film is particularly cheesy, overwrought, cringeworthy, or the type of disaster that makes you feel sorry for everyone involved and three generations of their ancestors. The sad truth is that Give My Regards To Broad Street is, quite simply, a bore. The plot - and I use the term loosely - is an inconsequential, threadbare, and utterly uninvolving storyline through which the viewer trods through in order to get to the songs. The story deals with Paul McCartney trying to track down the missing recordings to his latest album, stolen away by an unscrupulous business associate, while fellow ex-Beatle Ringo strikes up a romantic pursuit with a reporter, played by his real-life wife Barbara Bach.

The cast doesn't look like their buying into it, either. Sir Paul seems game but none-to-enthused about the entire affair. Ringo might have been there for the paycheck alone, who knows... There are also appearances by Bryan Brown and Tracy Ullman, who add some flair to their roles, but overall this is a staid and lifeless affair. If you have any interest in the film, it's most likely for the music. Paul and company do some pretty impressive work here and there; he has the good sense to open with Yesterday and performs many beloved Beatle chestnuts along the way, including For No One, Eleanor Rigby, Here There and Everywhere, Good Day Sunshine, and The Long and Winding Road. Hmm... that's four songs from Revolver alone! Where's the love for Rubber Soul?! Unfortunately, all of this is countered by what appears to be an Andrew Lloyd Webber-inspired rendition of McCartney's Silly Love Songs, in which he and a group of face-painted musicians perform this "classic" alongside a very 1980s breakdancer in a piece of work that, upon retrospection, would have fit right in with the Sgt. Pepper's movie. And then there's this godawful ballroom dancing sequence that would have been that much more entertaining had it been awful in a campy, cheesy way. Instead, it was little more than a quizzical exercise in ennui.

By any discernable means, Give My Regards To Broad Street is a bust. Even the rather impressive cinematography featured in the "Jack The Ripper/Eleanor Rigby" sequence does little to polish this turd. Beatle fans who have been avoiding the film since 1984 can just keep on keeping-on.

The DVD