
So Misguided it's Positively Hilarious!
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An absurd mishap from its beginning sequence, this film proves just how misguided one's efforts can be when unprecedented fame clouds their better judgement.
McCartney (or Macca, as he's referred to in Broadstreet) seemed to possess such a bland concept of pacing and suspense when he wrote the script that the film's "race against time" motif is treated with either complete indifference or an intermittent nod during its 110 minutes. It's actually quite maddening how the plot is nothing more than a soggy backdrop for the numerous epic videos McCartney (admittedly) put a great deal of thought and time into.
The recycling of so many songs from past albums (Beatles and solo efforts) also gives one the eerie sensation that this is little more than pop propaganda disguised as a "Greatest Hits" compilation in an effort to win public favor. Paul, being such a talented, charismatic and gifted songwriter, never had to stoop to such tactics, and as a result this is very painful to watch.
That said, it's not ALL a 110 minute inside joke the participants appear to be unaware of. A few highlights that help one work through the burn are the presence of Ringo Starr (for the eight minutes he's onscreen)who proves a playful and relaxed delight.
A Victorian dream sequence in ACT 3, while making absolutely no sense, is nonetheless beautifully-shot, impeccibly-edited, and has some amazing cinematography and scenery. It's an approach that could've served as a far more interesting plot concept than the dated '80s farce it ended up trapped inside.
Another perk is Tracey Ullman. Her adorable charm manages to shine through a flatly-written character that's little more than a sulky, post-punk stereotype erected to adore the lead character.
Last but not least, there's a real treat toward the beginning of the film. Paul traipses into the studio, sits with his guitar, and performs a beautiful medley of Yesterday/Here, There and Everywhere/Wanderlust. It's a crowning moment as the ridiculous plotholes take a backseat to let the film breathe as a brief rockumentary, with horn section and the Great Sir George Martin in tow.
As for Paul's acting, he comes off forced and vapid through much of the proceedings, only gaining life and vitality through thirty seconds as a homeless daydream singing for spare change on the Broadstreet subway. Virtually none of his innate charm present in his music and the Beatles films is present here.
Overall, despite it's grueling length and idotic conclusion, time has healed some of these wounds by the time it's placed in your dvd player. Your left to shake your head, like parents sticking an ugly scribble prominently on the fridge because they trust and adore the hand it was drawn by. For those who love McCartney's work (and are exremely forgiving), this will be no excpetion. You'll just love it for all the wrong reasons.
Review ID: 10000000002874357

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