Chapters (91)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- —
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- —
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- —
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- —
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- —
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- —
- Chapter 44
- —
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- —
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- —
- Chapter 60
- —
- Chapter 61
- —
- Chapter 62
- —
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- —
- Chapter 68
- —
- Notes
- —
- ABOUT THE AUTHORS
- Photos
- Coming Soon
It’s March of 1964, and “Can’t Buy Me Love” (which Paul and John had written over the course of a few hours during a break in Miami) is the first British single to hit number 1 simultaneously in Britain and the United States. The record is certified gold even before its release, selling two million copies during its first week on sale.
The Beatles have the top five singles on the American charts.
John doesn’t have high hopes for their film, which chronicles the thirty-six hours leading up to a televised concert—until he finds out that the director, Richard Lester, was responsible for bringing John’s favorite zany radio comedy, The Goon Show, to television. The Beatles, John says, are “the extension of that rebellion.” And the screenwriter, Alun Owen, was raised in Liverpool and wrote an acclaimed TV show about the city called No Trams to Lime Street—John cheekily noted that “Lime Street is a famous street in Liverpool where the whores used to be”—but more seriously, Owen “was famous for writing Liverpool dialogue.”
“The trouble is, it’s only us who can write for us,” John laments. Still, with a director and screenwriter both as driven about filmmaking as John is about music, he readjusts his attitude.
But not about acting. It’s “fucking stupid, isn’t it?” he says to Dick Lester of his boredom with the strict shooting schedules, early morning calls, and endless waiting on set.
Lester quickly decides that little acting is required, choosing a black-and-white cinema verité style to capture the Beatles’ humor, which is amplified by the bond among the four. “They had this great thing of gangs,” the director later reflects, a sense of “us against the world.”
Late in the filming, on set, Ringo is talking about their having yet another “hard day’s night.”
“What does that mean?” a young woman asks.
“It’s a Ringoism,” John explains, “said not to be funny, just said.”
Ringo elaborates on his way with words. “I used to, while I was saying one thing, have another thing come into my brain and move down fast. Once when we were working all day and into the night, I came out thinking it was still day and said, ‘It’s been a hard day,’ and looked round and noticing it was dark, ‘…’s night!’”
Dick Lester loves it, and during the film’s final production stage, he tells John the movie title has changed from Beatlemania to A Hard Day’s Night.
Which means John and Paul have to come up with a new title track.
It takes them twenty-four hours—with a little help from journalist Maureen Cleave.