Movie Quote of the Day (Ringo Starr, in “A Hard Day’s Night,” Defying Pigeonholes)

Female Reporter (played by Marianne Stone): “Are you a Mod or a Rocker?”

Ringo Starr (played by himself, of course!): “Um, no. I’m a Mocker.”—A Hard Day’s Night (1964), screenplay by Alun Owen, directed by Richard Lester

In the year of Beatlemania, is it any wonder, when A Hard Day’s Night premiered on this date in the London Pavilion Theatre, that Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon were in the audience? 

Or that the Fab Four film produced such a mob of fans that Piccadilly Circus and surrounding streets had to be temporarily closed?

Every generation has to create its own musical heroes. So, if my niece and nephews were ever to ask me what the Beatles were all about, I’d point to this movie—one that, like the group itself, left the world, to borrow a phrase from C.S. Lewis in a far different context, “surprised by joy.”

Yes, yes—of course the film features performances of “Can't Buy Me Love,” “If I Fell,” “And I Love Her,” “Tell Me Why, “All My Lovin',” “She Loves You,” the title track, and six other tunes. 

But offhand, I simply can’t recall another motion picture (and the Beatles are always in motion here!) filled with so much infectious fun.

The direction by the American Richard Lester was rightly lauded for its innovations (including, as noted by Roger Ebert, the first time movie titles had been intercut by the title song and action—in this case, of course, the boys’ madcap dash through a train station with a mob of crazed fans right behind).

Lester certainly performed miracles with his black-and-white medium and a budget of only 175,000 pounds, creating, in effect, a precursor of the music-video format.

But we should note here the contribution of screenwriter Alun Owen. Partly because he had only three movie credits (counting this one) to his name, with most of his work confined to TV and radio, he has been largely forgotten—including by The New York Times, which dispatched him with an 81-word obituary. He deserves far better.

Nobody, but nobody, had any idea what the Beatles would be like onscreen. Could they act? Could they say normal lines?

Nobody knew for sure, which is why no single sentence spoken by any Beatle was intended to be longer than six words. That is, until Owen had a chance not only to hang around with the group, catching their cheeky attitude and rapid quips, but to see them interact with the media.

While fleshing out the resulting scenario, Owen created a Seinfeldian universe that blended reality and fantasy in entertainers’ lives.

Yes, the four group members all go by their own names. But their road manager, “Norm,” was played by a character actor, Norman Rossington. 

More prominently, the film featured the sublimely silly scenario involving Paul’s fake “grandfather” (played by Wilfrid Brambell). (The Beatle’s grandfather was named Joe, not John, and he played the tuba.)

The above quote is as good a place to start as any in seeing the unexpected exuberance of the script in action. Now, in doing this, we have to proceed cautiously, recalling E.B. White’s stern admonition: “Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but the thing dies in the process and the innards are discouraging to any but the pure scientific mind.” Still, let’s have a go at it, shall we?

The reporter asking her question can barely disguise her boredom with—even ignorance about--her assignment. Her question is binary—either/or. 

Her story is already written in her head, the way so many reporters’ often are to beat deadlines. Ringo’s response will merely trigger which scenario she already has planned.

Then the drummer upsets the whole apple cart.

In a way, the gulf between uncomprehending reporter and these new young entertainers symbolizes the generation gap that would dominate headlines throughout the rest of the decade.

Ringo’s response represents an unanticipated third way totally unanticipated by reporters used to the careful, noncommittal “yes, ma’ams” of, for instance, Elvis Presley. We are beyond category, Ringo is telling her. We’ll blend traditions and make something new, different, and, if we’re lucky, better. See?

At the same time, Ringo’s deadpan answer is subversive. The group is “mocking” solemnity (including the media’s).

You can argue that the more appropriate person to deliver the dialogue would have been John Lennon, the musician with the sharpest wit and the most delight in Joycean wordplay of anyone in the group.

But putting the answer in the mouth of Ringo (who, as it happened, got most of the film’s funniest lines, and who, in a Yogi Berra-ish burst of brilliance, even came up with the title after one concert) turns out to be inspired precisely because it is so startling.

Several years ago, I was surprised and moved to hear Ringo Starr describe the Beatles simply as “four guys who loved each other.” Years before the end of the innocence, that joy in each other shows in this box-office smash.