I’d been hoping to see “Melania,” the movie, about as much as I’d like to see a meteor hurtling toward my house, or receive a visit from door-to-door evangelists. I should tell them I’m already going to heaven — I’ve saved up enough travel points on my credit card.
Since “Melania” wasn’t showing in our beautiful little bubble on its opening weekend, we happily went to Dartmouth for a showing of “A Hard Day’s Night,” the 1964 Beatles movie. It was, in a word, fab.
I don’t know why no one’s come out with a sing-along version for Boomers. My wife discretely sang a few lines and a woman in front of us did, too. I couldn’t resist joining in just a little — the Fifth Beatle!
It was a Boomer reunion, mostly retirees and other old people who wandered in from the cold. I don’t know what actual college students made of what was on the screen before them.
“A Hard Day’s Night” is wildly lively. John, Paul, George and Ringo romp through the hours leading to a TV performance. Young girls scream, cry and chase after “the boys” whenever they get a glimpse.
Some of the mature women in the audience — perhaps former bank execs, professors, civic leaders — laughed out loud when they relived the memories. Oh, to be young and screaming.
This showing used 35-millimeter film — not digital — perfect for the era. The black-and-white image was a little soft, just like my current vision. The reel broke two or three times, but we didn’t yell and stomp and throw little candy bits toward the front row like we did so many years ago at Saturday kiddie matinees. I hadn’t snuck any in. Where did that little rebel go?
AHDN — I am trying to be cool by using an acronym for “A Hard Day’s Night” — featured songs like “All My Loving,” “I Wanna Be Your Man,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and “I’m Happy Just to Dance With You.” You will notice a certain theme. This was before the Beatles, love and life became complicated.
If you aren’t familiar with the tunes, head on down to the local record shop for the vinyl album. Stop in at the malt shoppe on your way home.
I was never the biggest Beatles fan, although I followed their musical, personal and follicle evolutions. I was a baseball and Boy Scouts kid, just 12 when they first sang on Ed Sullivan’s show. We watched Disney on Sundays, but changed channels for the big event. I chuckled at my sisters for being worked up about it.
Although their look was clean-cut, the early Beatles had longish hair. As it happened, I had many bad hair days ahead of me. Evidentiary photos from those years make me wince.
Of course I wish things were still as simple as Beatlemania. But the nation is, to borrow from Elvis, all shook up. Hate-watching is what we do. Politics is dark entertainment for dark times. Donald Trump is the master of it.
Which brings me to Melania’s movie, which critics said is dull as dishwater, though that might be selling dishwater short. Our President claims everyone loves the film. He has a different idea of “everyone” than I do.
I kind of wish I didn’t hate the idea of her making $28 million from Amazon for a movie deal that smells off, like burnt popcorn.
Maybe she has an inspiring story to tell. Any girl from Slovenia could grow up to become First Lady of the United States, a land of opportunity where you can “be best,’’ as she once said. Things just have to break right, you catch the eye of a special guy, impeachment resolutions fail — and here you are on top of the world.
Sadly, the movie lacks the big reveal we hoped for: “He’s a brute. I hate him. Help me!”
Maybe in the Director’s Cut.
For now I can close my eyes and think of 1964. Fans embraced happy times, believed in better days, and sang “She Loves You’’ along with the Fab Four. And then the great affirmation: “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Of course it was kinda dopey. But I’ll take joy and fun where I can find it.
And here is a most welcome earworm that has been with me since I re-met the Beatles:
Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you,
Tomorrow I’ll miss you,
Remember, I’ll always be true.
And then while I’m away,
I’ll write home every day.
And I’ll send all my lovin’ to you.
I sing it at home sometimes, to Dede, to the universe, to the birds at the feeder.
Beatles forever? Sure, right now, why not?
Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.