Stay Classy: A Hard Day's Night

Maybe you’ve never heard of it. Maybe you’ve always wanted to see it. Or maybe you’re just tired of the new. Whatever your reason, the classics are always worth a nod. Every Friday in Stay Classy, we look some of the films that started it all and how they hold up today. So sit back while we reel through the past.

Photo: source unknown

Before the JoBros and BSB, there was The Beatles. Yes, aside from their legacy as rock icons, they also set the bar for screaming, crying and fainting women. Looking back, they seemed so quirky. Nowadays, it's all about the rock bods, pearly whites and coiffed locks (OK, some things haven't changed). But I guess when you're singing songs about holding hands and giving all your loving, ladies in hot pink dresses and beehives will swoon.

In 1964, The Beatles capitalized on Beatlemania with A Hard Day's Night, a mockumentary following our four British beaus around London the night of a big television performance, much like their famous Ed Sullivan Show gigs. You know, it's just a "typical" day in the lives of The Beatles, charming women, giddy dancing and getting arrested, not to mention babysitting Paul's grandpa all day.

It's a very simple story, so simple that at first, you aren't sure if there's going to be more to it before realizing it's just about goofing around and playing great music. There are only two traceable strands throughout the film: the whereabouts of the "clean old man" and the impending concert. Well, unless you count constantly trying to escape authority a storyline.

It's actually a bit surprising how silly these guys are. I guess it should have been obvious having seen their Sgt. Pepper and Yellow Submarine outfits or even just listening to some of their lyrics. Again surprisingly (and again it shouldn't have been), the silliest of all was John! Really, what 20-something year old still plays with toys in a bubble bath?

It's also funny how many one-liners are cracked at poor Ringo's expense, including from himself. I feel bad laughing but when Paul grandfather keeps making jokes about Ringo's nose (and "his poor little head, trembling under the weight of it"), I can't help it. They also speculate about why he's got the least fans and yes, grandfather deduces it's the nose.

But the best part of all was the quartet's escape from their manager to skip and dance through fields on fast forward to the tune of "Can't Buy Me Love." Honestly, you'd think they were 12-year-olds trapped in the bodies of mid-20 heartthrobs. I only wish there was more of this. Actually, I just wish there were more of the entire film. Eighty-seven minutes is not enough.

However, there are a few scenes that drag, mainly the "plot scenes," sans antics and guitar strumming, but when the rest of it is so entertaining, it compensates. You know, brave the bore for the brilliance.

Of course, A Hard Day's Night has served as model for many fan-serving films made later, most notably Spice World. And although they both raked in millions, Spice World sank with critics while A Hard Day's Night is still revered by many (including Ebert). But if you ask me, I'd watch either of them again. The only necessary criteria for loving these films: being a fan.

And just because...

DVD: The Runaways

Photo: Amazon.com
(She's a ch-ch-ch-ch-cherie bomb!)

Starring Dakota Fanning, Kristen Stewart, Michael Shannon, Scout Taylor-Compton and Stella Maeve. Directed by Fioria Sigismondi. 106 minutes. 14A

In the middle of The Runaways, Kristen Stewart's Joan Jett turns to her jail bait band mate, Cherie Currie and screams "Publicize the music! Not your crotch!" That line, in all it's super-campy glory, pretty much sums up my feelings towards the grrl-power biopic.

The problem with the The Runaways is it tries too hard to make the music movie magic that's already there. The story itself is rockin': wannabee rocker girl (Stewart as Jett) tries to start up the first all-girl rock group with the help of a make-upped manager named Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon., Revolutionary Road) and a baby bombshell belter (Dakota Fanning as Currie). But the presentation is just off key.

The movie wants to be an pseudo-feminist flick - with some glittery sex, drugs and rock n' roll thrown in. But it focuses far too much on the sex part. Although the girls are supposed to be barely old enough to be considered legit jail bait, there are two highly extended scenes of Fanning and Stewart sharing experimental relations to a glam rock soundtrack. Some might claim they are just poorly lit versions of reality (we don't really know exactly what happened between those two girls and their hotel room sheets, although Jett did oversee the project as exec producer), but there's a reason why these scenes are much longer than the actual musical performances. Like Cherie, who resorts to exploitative nearly-nude pics or press, this movie is too focused on sexing up the girls' image.

Director Floria Sigismondi also relies heavily on over-done We're-Teenagers-In-Leather-Pants-Hear-Us-Roar cliches. Oh my god - look they're doing coke in a airplane bathroom. Holy shit -they're drinking booze out a baby shampoo bottle. Hold the phone. Did she just piss on that dude's guitar? Shut up. They did not just get their period in the middle of an intersection.What? They parked diagonally in a spot - cause they don't believe in staying in the lines? We get it.

In general, The Runaways feels like too many rock n' roll movies we've already seen. It's like Rock Star, with tits (Rock Star-lette, I suppose). The stories are nearly identical - young impressionable kid joins in as lead singer of the band and skyrockets to super stardom, only to be sidetracked by groupies, booze and illegal substances. They also both feature excessive montages, visualizing said journey to celeb status. And in the end, they both leave the band (and their tight pants and secret eyeliner stash) behind and go back to being normal, sorta musically inclined nobodies, while the rest of the band keeps rockin'. The only difference is that this movie features real people while Rock Star is only loosely based on Judas Priest.

Speaking of eerie resemblances, Kristen Stewart could not look more like Joan Jett in this movie. Her acting, is not so strong (she just seems like Bella Swan, with heroin and a bad haircut), but the look is enough to convince you she's right for the part. Dakota Fanning, is, surprise, surprise, much more impressive as Cherie. She makes it really hard to believe she's merely a sweet, 16-year-old cheerleader in real-life. Too bad her character is really unlikeable. The movie is based on Cherie's bio (Neon Angel), so it naturally focuses in on her and her and her one-hit-wonderful story. But you spend most of the movie wishing there was more about Jett and her badass reputation.

The Runaways ends before you OD on the cheesy riot-grrl-isms and purposefully sleazy cinematography. The final scene is awesome, though. As you watch Joan dump all her party friends out to write a fucking legendary song (the once-again-immortalized-in-Crossroads classic, "I Love Rock N' Roll"), you can't help but smile - and wish that they'd made The Blackhearts instead. B

EXTRAS: A commentary track featuring Stewart, Fanning and Jett, two featurettes ("Plugged In: The Making the Film" and "The Runaways")

DVD: When You're Strange

Photo: amazon.ca

(The Doors a.k.a. just Jim)

Narrated by Johnny Depp. Directed by Tom DiCillo. 90 minutes. 14A

When You’re Strange is a better song than this documentary. The song is soulful yet airy. Riffs are catchy, lyrics are interesting. It’s the kind of song you could set on repeat for a while. This documentary, on the other hand, is too linear and predictable: instant fame, too cool for school, then drugs.

When You’re Strange sums up The Doors from genesis to crash. Actually, it’s mostly about Jim Morrison. It’s as if there is no band, there is just Jim. He is The Doors and some fans would probably argue so, just as this documentary does. The Doors’ story is framed by scenes from a film that Morrisson made and stars in, but set up by DiCillo to imply that Morrison faked his own death, as DiCillo dubs news of Morrison's death over the scene where the car radio plays. Y’know, like Elvis and Tupac.

As a Doors fan, you might get distracted by the music in this film, but as a neutral observer, it should be about how the doc carries the songs and the band's story. Unfortunately in this case, it's not very well. The story is not very compelling. That's not to say The Doors, or Jim, didn't lead interesting lives or careers, it's just a story we've seen on film too many times before. It's up to the doc creators to come up with a new way of telling that story, bringing new elements to it, maybe finding details we wouldn't expect. Instead, DiCillo keeps it cliche, making it a doc for Doors lovers, not music lovers.

The film also embeds a weird narrative with Morrisson, set in the desert, filling up at a gas station, covering up a dying animal and playing with random children. It seems staged because it is. The footage cheese-ifies the doc, detracting from its integrity. But again, maybe a gem for the die-hard fans.

As a whole, nothing is very memorable. You might stumble across this doc on TV again one day and not remember you'd seen it before. But if you aren't a Doors fan, you'll probably just flip the channel. C