Get Back…in the Green Room?

Photo credit: Dylan McLeod

It’s now been a month and half since the premiere of Peter Jackson’s eight-hour re-imagining of Let it Be. There has been no shortage of opinions from critics and viewers, among them: “a fascinating look at the creative process,” “overlong and tedious,” “they all needed showers.” One of the most talked about topics was how this expanded version put to rest the notion that Yoko Ono broke up the Beatles. We see pretty clearly that George Harrison wanted out, and actually quit the band for a few weeks. McCartney publicly stated that Yoko “sitting on an amp” couldn’t be blamed for a future Beatles demise. He, himself, had developed the reputation of resident control freak, according to George. When the inevitable finally went down, fingers would be pointed in all directions, both by fans and the Beatles themselves. Somehow, as I watched the documentary, I wasn’t thinking much about the breakup. I was too busy reacting viscerally to the music and interpersonal dynamics of the moment, as well as pondering things I had never before considered.

A lot of the hype preceding Get Back promised a more friendly, playful view of the group than what we’d witnessed in the original film. To some extent, Jackson delivered on that, especially in the priceless moments of connection between Lennon and McCartney. The digital remastering of the bleak-looking 16-millimeter footage also makes for a sunnier viewing experience. Their rooftop concert was even more exhilarating than I remembered, and I was particularly impressed by the gutsy energy of John’s live performance. The EP-length set is a compact but sublime tribute to the power of rock ’n roll. Still, as I watched the eight hours’ worth of footage, I couldn’t help but find myself overcome with sadness.

Knowing the futures of John and George was obviously a part of it, but there were other, unexpected triggers. One was Ringo, who looks miserable throughout the entire enterprise. Linda McCartney, on the other hand, presents as the epitome of youth and health, while the viewer knows that her life will be cut short by breast cancer. Music-wise, we see Paul arrive at the studio with bucket-loads of material and John show up with next to nothing. It is often uncomfortable to watch him work from the invisible cocoon he shares with Yoko, who never seems to be more than two inches from his side.

Photo credit: Kelly Sikkema

What exactly is her role? Knitting, painting, and reading the newspaper, apparently. These sorts of activities are normally relegated to the comfort of the Guest Green Room, so as not to disturb the business at hand. Yet she remains an unmovable presence in the studio, which is now also a movie set, occupied by important players who are on a deadline. At the very least, Get Back reveals that while Yoko might not have broken up the Beatles, she sucked a shit-ton of oxygen out of the room.

While the Lennon-Ono superglue factor wasn’t exactly breaking news to this viewer, watching it for such a protracted period of time was a debilitating exercise. Having been part of many creative group endeavors, I could only imagine the effect it had on the other Beatles. Granted, punching up jokes on an episode of Home Improvement is a far cry from recording at Abbey Road, but imagine being on a hit show with excellent writers, and suddenly having a showrunner’s new girlfriend or boyfriend sit at the writer’s table every day, contributing nothing. A seemingly passive significant other can change the dynamics of the room and the mindset of the showrunner, both in terms of the material and the other creative people involved. Who would want to put up with it?

I don’t doubt that John and Yoko loved each other, and that in many ways, he needed her. But when it comes to making art, I would amend the statement “All You Need is Love.” You also need space. Artists must have the freedom to reflect, and assert their individuality. Also, if they happen to be part of a team with an established working relationship, they need to honor that. Another argument for “creative separation” is the immense pleasure of bringing home a new piece of work and sharing it with someone who wasn’t part of the process. The artist can then listen to what the other person accomplished that day, and they can appreciate each other’s progress. To my way of thinking, a bit of breathing room only makes the bond grow stronger.

Of course, there are people in relationships who also choose to be a creative team. The thing is, no sane person could argue that John and Yoko were on equal footing musically. Or Paul and Linda, for that matter. Lennon and McCartney’s post-Beatles work, which both bore their partners’ influence and participation, would manifest moments of brilliance but ultimately be regarded as uneven. I would not be alone in assuming that the majority of record buyers moved the needle right past the Yoko tracks on Double Fantasy. Are spouses/partners to blame for inconsistent quality in an artist’s work? Certainly not. There is no lifetime guarantee for churning out masterpieces, whether one works in a group or flies solo. The former Beatles had earned the right to make music in whatever configuration they chose, yet I would posit that in most cases, carving out a little space between love and art is a healthy thing. What do you think?