I'll have you know this is all ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ponygirl2000's fault. Writing to me about Two of Us, she said she had liked the film, with the one caveat that "I'm not sure from both a narrative and (more shakily) a historical perspective about making Paul so completely well-adjusted. His patience in the movie seemed to tip over into saintliness at certain points. With all the discussion of John's childhood issues it would have been nice to delve more deeply into Paul's drive and need to please. It's more interesting to think that his charm is a bit of a mask for a control freak with more than a few of his own loopy behaviours and substance abuse problems - except from the perspective of actual person!Paul of course."
Which is a very valid point to make. I love the film to bits, but it did deserve the this parody raising the same point, and I quote:
AIDAN QUINN
I see a beautiful boy who’s mother says goodbye, who blames himself for his father’s mistakes and tries to believe ordinary little things don’t scare him to death, when they do. I see a man who still doesn’t realize how beautiful he is.
(pause)
Why the hell am I playing therapist so much? I’m Paul fucking McCartney, not Dr. Janov.
SCREENWRITER
I thought it’d be interesting if we spent half the time going into how John’s mind works and why he acts the way he does. John’s much more interesting then you in that respect, you see.
AIDAN QUINN
You mean it’s more interesting to psychoanalyze a man who just throws a fit whenever he feels like it then a man who hides everything from the world and his family behind a smile and then goes on to drown himself in drugs and alcohol?
SCREENWRITER
Yeah, well, at least John didn’t write Silly Love Songs you hack.
Now, as far as fictional treatments are concerned, there is one obvious advantage when focusing on John's issues. He's dead, the story finished, and he can't Joss you. Also he did, as the quote above mentions, have the habit of throwing a temper tantrum a lot, and was very vocal about (many of) his issues, which means the public at large knows a lot about them. Paul is still alive, which makes delving into his psyche automatically feel far more intrusive, and he's far better at guarding his privacy (in general, not always). Never mind fiction; biographers who attempt to have a go at Mr. McCartney are regularly frustrated by the fact that they don't get interviews from a) him (with the exception of Barry Miles, who did the authorized one), b) his children, c) his brother (not in the last 20 years anyway), or d) John Hammel. Never heard of the last one? With reason. He's been Paul's personal assistant, roadie, sidekick and general best friend since the mid-70s and can be spotted regularly on occasions ranking from touring to family baptisms to daughter Stella's fashion shows and gets thanked in the credits of many an album (oh, and in the transcript of the divorce proceedings). But he refuses to give interviews as much as the late Neil Aspinall (Beatles roadie turned Apple boss) did. Jane Asher, the woman with whom Paul had his most serious relationship pre-Linda? No interviews on the subject ever since their breakup. Current girlfriend, Nancy Shevell? No interviews. This is all great when it comes to maintaining privacy (and speaks of the loyalty of the people in question), but somewhat frustrating for the biographical industry which has to do with cousins, short affairs, brief acquaintances and ex employees instead. And of course the occasional rambling and less guarded moment in interviews given to non-biographers. Given that any member of the Beatles gave a gazillion interviews since they came to public attention a little less than five decades ago, and everybody and their dog seems to have a "my encounter with (Ex-)Beatle X" (including Paul) story, this still makes for a lot of material, plus there is of course the work. Not to say that behind the dogged optimism and the thumbs aloft mannerisms lies a secret axe murderer, just that the impression you - well, I - get is based on the material that is available is that he has his own set of dysfunctions (some of which actually overlap with John's, and some are quite different), with less obvious coping mechanisms. The primary one being music.
Earlier this week, I got around for the first time to listen to Ecce Cor Meum, an oratorio on four movements released as an album in 2006. He had started working on it in 1998 (when it was a commission from Magdalen College to set the seal on a new concert hall), then Linda died, the whole thing was delayed (and not ready for the concert hall opening) and became something more personal, there was an early version in 2001 with which he wasn't satisfied, more work, the disaster of second marriage and its end, and finally the premiere in 2006. Of his earlier attempts at classical music, I knew only the Liverpool Oratorio which I could take or leave, but Ecce Cor Meum turned out to be stunning. Very beautiful (more on that below), and also the latest in a line of several examples of a quintessential McCartney trait, to wit, that for all his affable manner and decades in the public spot light, he's not really good at expressing feelings verbally; he channels them into composing and playing instead. To qote from the leaflet, "what I'll leave behind me will be music, and I may not be able to tell you everything I fell, but you'll be able to feel it when you listen to my music. I don't have the time or the articulation to be able to say it all, but if you enjoy composing you say it through the notes". (Or, as he put it decades earlier re: The Long and Winding road: I like writing sad songs, it's a good bag to get into because you can actually acknowledge some deeper feelings of your own and put them in it. It's a good vehicle, it saves having to go to a psychiatrist. Songwriting often performs that feat, you say it but you don't embarrass yourself because it's only a song, or is it? You are putting the things that are bothering you on the table and you are reviewing them, but because it's a song, you don't have to argue with anyone. )
Naturally, busybody fans like myself aren't content to simply listen, we have to speculate as well. To kick the theorizing about Paul's hang-ups and coping mechanisms off, here's a classic Lennon/McCartney exchange from the early 70s, i.e. when things were bad between them and phonecalls were heated and usually ended abruptly. Quotations of dialogue courtesy to the gentlemen in question, as related in interviews.
John: You know what you are? You're all pizza and fairy tales!
Paul: What a great album title! Well, if that's what I am, I'm not wholly against that description of me. I can think of worse things to say. *hangs up*
I'm usually siding with Paul when it comes to the early 70s, but I can see why John would find that reaction frustrating.:) (BTW he actually came close to using "pizza and fairy tales" as an album title years later, but went with "Flaming Pie" instead.)
( On waking up to the sound of music, in times of darkness and light )
ponygirl2000's fault. Writing to me about Two of Us, she said she had liked the film, with the one caveat that "I'm not sure from both a narrative and (more shakily) a historical perspective about making Paul so completely well-adjusted. His patience in the movie seemed to tip over into saintliness at certain points. With all the discussion of John's childhood issues it would have been nice to delve more deeply into Paul's drive and need to please. It's more interesting to think that his charm is a bit of a mask for a control freak with more than a few of his own loopy behaviours and substance abuse problems - except from the perspective of actual person!Paul of course."Which is a very valid point to make. I love the film to bits, but it did deserve the this parody raising the same point, and I quote:
AIDAN QUINN
I see a beautiful boy who’s mother says goodbye, who blames himself for his father’s mistakes and tries to believe ordinary little things don’t scare him to death, when they do. I see a man who still doesn’t realize how beautiful he is.
(pause)
Why the hell am I playing therapist so much? I’m Paul fucking McCartney, not Dr. Janov.
SCREENWRITER
I thought it’d be interesting if we spent half the time going into how John’s mind works and why he acts the way he does. John’s much more interesting then you in that respect, you see.
AIDAN QUINN
You mean it’s more interesting to psychoanalyze a man who just throws a fit whenever he feels like it then a man who hides everything from the world and his family behind a smile and then goes on to drown himself in drugs and alcohol?
SCREENWRITER
Yeah, well, at least John didn’t write Silly Love Songs you hack.
Now, as far as fictional treatments are concerned, there is one obvious advantage when focusing on John's issues. He's dead, the story finished, and he can't Joss you. Also he did, as the quote above mentions, have the habit of throwing a temper tantrum a lot, and was very vocal about (many of) his issues, which means the public at large knows a lot about them. Paul is still alive, which makes delving into his psyche automatically feel far more intrusive, and he's far better at guarding his privacy (in general, not always). Never mind fiction; biographers who attempt to have a go at Mr. McCartney are regularly frustrated by the fact that they don't get interviews from a) him (with the exception of Barry Miles, who did the authorized one), b) his children, c) his brother (not in the last 20 years anyway), or d) John Hammel. Never heard of the last one? With reason. He's been Paul's personal assistant, roadie, sidekick and general best friend since the mid-70s and can be spotted regularly on occasions ranking from touring to family baptisms to daughter Stella's fashion shows and gets thanked in the credits of many an album (oh, and in the transcript of the divorce proceedings). But he refuses to give interviews as much as the late Neil Aspinall (Beatles roadie turned Apple boss) did. Jane Asher, the woman with whom Paul had his most serious relationship pre-Linda? No interviews on the subject ever since their breakup. Current girlfriend, Nancy Shevell? No interviews. This is all great when it comes to maintaining privacy (and speaks of the loyalty of the people in question), but somewhat frustrating for the biographical industry which has to do with cousins, short affairs, brief acquaintances and ex employees instead. And of course the occasional rambling and less guarded moment in interviews given to non-biographers. Given that any member of the Beatles gave a gazillion interviews since they came to public attention a little less than five decades ago, and everybody and their dog seems to have a "my encounter with (Ex-)Beatle X" (including Paul) story, this still makes for a lot of material, plus there is of course the work. Not to say that behind the dogged optimism and the thumbs aloft mannerisms lies a secret axe murderer, just that the impression you - well, I - get is based on the material that is available is that he has his own set of dysfunctions (some of which actually overlap with John's, and some are quite different), with less obvious coping mechanisms. The primary one being music.
Earlier this week, I got around for the first time to listen to Ecce Cor Meum, an oratorio on four movements released as an album in 2006. He had started working on it in 1998 (when it was a commission from Magdalen College to set the seal on a new concert hall), then Linda died, the whole thing was delayed (and not ready for the concert hall opening) and became something more personal, there was an early version in 2001 with which he wasn't satisfied, more work, the disaster of second marriage and its end, and finally the premiere in 2006. Of his earlier attempts at classical music, I knew only the Liverpool Oratorio which I could take or leave, but Ecce Cor Meum turned out to be stunning. Very beautiful (more on that below), and also the latest in a line of several examples of a quintessential McCartney trait, to wit, that for all his affable manner and decades in the public spot light, he's not really good at expressing feelings verbally; he channels them into composing and playing instead. To qote from the leaflet, "what I'll leave behind me will be music, and I may not be able to tell you everything I fell, but you'll be able to feel it when you listen to my music. I don't have the time or the articulation to be able to say it all, but if you enjoy composing you say it through the notes". (Or, as he put it decades earlier re: The Long and Winding road: I like writing sad songs, it's a good bag to get into because you can actually acknowledge some deeper feelings of your own and put them in it. It's a good vehicle, it saves having to go to a psychiatrist. Songwriting often performs that feat, you say it but you don't embarrass yourself because it's only a song, or is it? You are putting the things that are bothering you on the table and you are reviewing them, but because it's a song, you don't have to argue with anyone. )
Naturally, busybody fans like myself aren't content to simply listen, we have to speculate as well. To kick the theorizing about Paul's hang-ups and coping mechanisms off, here's a classic Lennon/McCartney exchange from the early 70s, i.e. when things were bad between them and phonecalls were heated and usually ended abruptly. Quotations of dialogue courtesy to the gentlemen in question, as related in interviews.
John: You know what you are? You're all pizza and fairy tales!
Paul: What a great album title! Well, if that's what I am, I'm not wholly against that description of me. I can think of worse things to say. *hangs up*
I'm usually siding with Paul when it comes to the early 70s, but I can see why John would find that reaction frustrating.:) (BTW he actually came close to using "pizza and fairy tales" as an album title years later, but went with "Flaming Pie" instead.)
( On waking up to the sound of music, in times of darkness and light )
