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selenak: (Arthur by Voi)
1.) Camelot: watched the first two episodes. Eva Green is great as Morgan, Joseph Fiennes a good ambiguous!Merlin, but alas, the youngster they've cast as Arthur seems to be capable of only one (slightly suprised) expression. This is a problem in a show where he has lots of screentime. (See, this is where underestimated Bradley James is underestimated, because he's really good not just at the comedy stuff, which Merlin especially in ye early days used Arthur a lot for, but also in giving the impression there's a lot going on inside in the angsty scenes.) And if virtually other actor is better than your leading man and some are genuine heavy weights, the problem is even stronger. Writing-wise, well, I'm biased but I think Chris Chibnall's contributions are evident. (Am I ever glad he's not working on Torchwood season 4...) In conclusion: could be worse, could be better, didn't grab me as much as The Borgias.

2.) Via Leviathan: one of my favourite scenes from Deathly Hallows was actually filmed but didn't make the cut, which is a shame because it's really well done - Dudley saying goodbye to Harry. This in a way completed Dudley's mini arc from caricature bully via the shock Dementor experience in Order of the Phoenix to human being, and it's played just right. Also, having seen Dudley's actor as Gilly the last season of Merlin, you can doubly appreciate what good work he does:



3.) Tumblr reminded me today of one of the passages in Philipp Norman's John Lennon: The Life which I found absolutely hilarious on Philipp Norman's behalf and sad on John's, to wit: "In contrast with John and Yoko’s low-key comings and goings, Paul liked to make an entrance with Linda, usually carrying her little girl, Heather, on his shoulders. “Here comes the Royal Family,” John would mutter. Bear in mind this is actually from the book where Norman tries to be more objective. :) I don't know who his editor was, but had it been me, I'd been tempted to say: "Philipp, dear, I've seen footage of John and Yoko in the late 60s. Come to think of it, I've seen footage of John and Yoko in the 70s, too. And in 1980. When were they ever low-key? I know you have the man crush of the ages on John Lennon, but let's try to make it a little less obvious, shall we?"
Leaving aside amusement, where it gets interesting and a little sad is when you wonder who Norman's source for this contrast and compare of John & Yoko versus Paul, Linda & Heather was, because it has to be either Yoko (whom Norman interviewed extensively for the book) or, even more likely, John and his gazillion early 70s interviews. (Which are certainly full of "she (Linda) came with a ready-made family, and he always wanted the family life" type of statements.) John in general on the subject of Paul & children is a psychological minefield, from suspecting Julian would rather have Paul as a father in a 1975 interview to insisting that Hey Jude was for him, damn it, not for Julian in 1980, and in the same interview going "he (Paul) has 25 children and million records coming out, when does he have time to talk?" And now let's look at that quote again. What is the "big production" the "royal" element of the McCartneys showing up? That Paul carries Heather on his shoulders. That he gets along with Heather. The thing is, Linda wasn't the only one who came "with a ready-made family". So did Yoko. So did John. Heather, Kyoko and Julian are all exactly the same age. John and Paul in the late 60s both fall in love with women with daughters from previous marriages. And from John's pov, it must have looked as if he was being continuously outdone in the parenting department. John manages to scare Yoko's previous husband so much that Tony Cox disappears with Kyoko and Yoko does not see her daughter again during John's life time; Paul manages to get permission from Linda's previous husband to adopt Heather within a year. John has difficulties talking to Julian when they're in the same room together, let alone play with him even in the 60s but tries to explain it by the fact he missed so much of Julian's early childhood due to the Beatles being on tour all the time. Except that Paul, who sees even less of Julian (what with not being the father) during the 60s, still has no problem playing with him whenever they meet and gets adored in turn. Both Yoko and Linda get pregnant in the late 60s; Yoko has two misscarriages, Linda gives birth to one healthy child after another. Finally in 1975 John and Yoko get Sean and John makes the big gesture of giving up his career for some years so he can devote himself to raising Sean, getting the father thing right this time, but he still needs a full time Nanny for that who does the actual primary care-taking; meanwhile, Paul and Linda somehow manage three, then four children without any Nanny and with going on tour and making succesful records at the same time, and without those children ever being neglected. It's enough to make someone less neurotic and competitive than John Lennon gnash their teeth.

Incidentally: in 1998, about half a year after Linda McCartney's death, Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders (who was friends with Linda) interviewed Paul; in the resulting 14 pages interview (which is mostly about Linda), the subject of raising children and how to do that if you're simultanously a rock star and one of the world's most famous people came up, and here's what he had to say:

CH: With your money and prestige you could have sent your children to any school in the world. And yet you'd drop them off and pick them up every day at the same local school -- what the Americans would call the public school -- along with the local shopkeepers, farmers, and the other people in your village. Why?

PM: We'd seen a lot of people go through the expensive schooling route with their kids, and we understood why they did it, because they wanted the best for their children -- that's normally the reason people say. But we'd seen a lot of heartache happen, when the kids would be devastated to leave, for instance, Mummy at the age of eight. Whenever we saw anything like that, Linda and I instinctively would look at each other and register the fact that that wasn't how we were going to do it.
The other thing was nannies -- and [what] put us off that was when one of our friends' kids ran to the nanny and said, "Mummy!" The kid had forgotten who the mummy was, and it shocked us. So we decided not to go that route. The nice thing was that because Linda was from money, she knew that it wasn't the be-all and end-all. She used to talk to me about a lot of loneliness she'd seen in a lot of these big houses and a lot of unpleasantness in families, because they weren't close, they weren't truthful, they weren't honest, because they didn't spend much time together.
So even though people would say, "You've got to send your son to Eton," we just said, "No way, they'll end up being like a different race from us, and we won't just won't relate to them." We decided that even if we were going on tour we'd take them with us. People thought we were mad, they used to be after us about "dragging our children around the world." But we said, "Well, they are close to us and if ever they get the flu, then we're not in Australia and they're not in England, desperately worrying." Instead, Linda would be there, with the medicine. Or I would be there to tuck them into bed. We just decided that that was more important to us. (...)
So we didn't send them to the paying schools, we did send them to the little local school. We'd moved out of London because London was getting a bit too much the fast lane. (...)

CH: Did you ever take a vacation together without the kids? Most couples, they want to get away and have a little second honeymoon. Did you ever go off on your own without them?

PM: No, we even took Heather [Linda's daughter from her first marriage] on our honeymoon. People are little surprised at that. We've met people who say, "Oh I like children, but I only like them when they get to be about three years old, when you can talk to them." Linda and I would look at each other and say, '"But don't you like them when they're little babies?" And they just gasp a little bit. I think it was just always such a mystery to us. I [come] from a very strong Liverpool family. And when Linda and I met, she was a single parent happening to get on with her life. So we just kind of pulled it together between us and just said, "Well you know, we'll just do it in a certain way." And we stuck to it. (...) And this idea that babies are only good when they're three -- when James was really little I remember sitting on the sofa with him. He's just a baby and he was sitting with me like we were grown-ups and he was just sort of gaggling and going, "Ah goo, ah goo." So I just said, "Ah goo." Like agreeing with him in his language. He looked at me like, "You speak this language?" We're sitting there for hours just "ah goo." I just mimicked him because kids mimic their parents -- but its actually a lot of fun the other way around. Then I said, "Pa, Pa, Pa," and he'd just go, "Um, hum, Pa, Pa, Pa." They see you like using their words and it's oddly so exciting. From the second they were born to this day, I think you learn so much off kids -- if you're willing to be open and you don't close your mind and say, "Oh, I know how to be a parent." I always said to Lin that being a parent is the greatest ad-lib you're ever involved in. You make it up as you go along, you have no idea what the script is, you have no idea how these kids are going to turn out but if you're just with them a bit and listen to them a bit and let them talk to you instead of talking to them all the time, then natural things occur a bit more easily. We don't give them anything near the amount of credit they should have. They teach you in the end.


Considering those children are well into their 30s (or, in Heather's case, 40s) by now, without any of the usual celebrity kid episodes (i.e. getting into rehab by the time they're teens, bashing it out with photographers, writing tell-all Daddy Dearest or Mummy Dearest stories, etc.) and never complained about more than dad's annoying habit of tinkering on his guitar when everyone wanted to watch tv and Mum's striped socks, I'd say the method worked. This month there was a lovely article by Stella and Mary McCartney about their mother and her photography (on the occasion of another collection of her photographs coming out) in Harper's, and their childhood memories present the other side of the above mentioned quotes. It's a good one. The new Linda photos printed in advance are great, too, btw; below the cut are some of John, and of McCartneys in various combinations.

Demonstration of why dismissing Linda's photography gets me mad )
selenak: (Beatles by Alexis3)
Daily annoyance for this long-suffering Beatles fan:

1) Coming across a fanboy who interprets the lyrics from Here Today as an attack on John. Quoth the fanboy: "Didn't understand a thing - Paul is saying John was daft". Head. Desk. (The verse in question goes - "What about the time we met? Well, I suppose that you could say that we were playing hard to get. Didn't understand a thing, but we could always sing." You don't have to be a literature major to notice the "we" in that sentence. And you have to be really, really dumb not to feel the searing grief and love in that particular song.)

2) Reading Philipp Norman's obituary for George Harrison. And here I thought Robert Christgau is the winner for the most tasteless obituary for a former Beatle. (Because of the "why is it always Kennedy and John Lennon, why never Nixon or Paul McCartney!" statement.) But Philipp N. tries to compete. How he ever became known as a Beatles expert is beyond me, because he's never made a secret of being interested in only one of the four, John. (Which is why of all of Norman's Beatle-related writings I prefer his John biography - it doesn't pretend to be about anyone else, and paradoxically he's far more fair and even-minded towards the others in that one than he is in Shout!.) And whoever gave him the job of writing George's obituary hopefully was fired, because it's incredibly spiteful. Which was a bit of a surprise - I was aware that until the John bio Norman was anti-Paul - Shout! is dripping with contempt and bile in that regard, which makes his disingenious "how could people ever assume I hate Paul?" in the afterword to "Lennon: The Life" quaintly amusing - but I hadn't known he also had it in for George to that degree, though I knew he wasn't exactly a fan. But really, imagine: George just died from lung cancer, you open the paper, and you read stuff like this: "I first saw Harrison backstage at a Beatles concert in Newcastle upon Tyne at the height of Beatlemania, back in 1965. Lennon, McCartney and Ringo Starr were immediately friendly and forthcoming, McCartney even handing his violin bass guitar to me to try. Only Harrison stayed in the background, his pale face cupped in a black polo-neck. I thought at the time that he looked a bit of a miserable git, but I did not dream how right I was. Harrison's misanthropy was as well hidden as McCartney's two-facedness and Lennon's general disgust with the whole Beatlemania experience." Which sets the tone.
He's not keen on George's solo music ("He began to alienate concert audiences by his self-importance and heavy-handed attempts at lecturing and preaching"), and while you could argue that fine, this is all Norman's personal impression and opinion of George as a man and a musician, though calling a man who organized the first big charity concert and who specialized in discovering and producing other artists a misanthrope really demands a new definition of the word), he then goes beneath the belt even when forced to write something positive about George's second marriage: His greatest asset proved to be his marriage to Olivia, not a rock star’s cipher wife but a woman of character and compassion who became deeply involved in charity work to help orphans in Romania. The marriage, clearly, was not all roses. A few years back a Los Angeles prostitute known only as Tiffany identified Harrison as one of her clients, alleging that while a sexual service was performed for him he was playing his ukulele and singing a George Formby song. Because that's really what you need to include in a Sunday Times obituary most likely read by the "woman of character and compassion" and her son. (Note: in a George biography, I can see the point of mentioning marital infidelities. But not in an obituary published as soon as the man breathed his last breath, and definitely not in such detail. No wonder Olivia has such a low opinion on Beatle biographers.)

So does he have any use for the deceased at all, during Beatles times or later? It's not like our Philipp N. has any preferences there, no. "He was as essential to the Fab Four formula as John Lennon's rebellious smile or Paul McCartney's great cow eyes. Beatles fans who screamed for George were a curious but dedicated minority, like those who pick the green ones in packets of wine gums." (Inability to resist taking another swipe at the cow-eyed one at the same time is noted, Norman.) How about the Concert for Bangladesh and that stunning debut triple album, All Things Must Pass? "One tribute last week called him "a great humanitarian"; if that was putting it rather strong, the Concert for Bangladesh undoubtedly gave rock its first inkling of social conscience, paving the way for Live Aid and similar events in the 1980s. Passing time, however, revealed the awful truth. All Things Must Pass consisted of songs that Harrison had written while still in the Beatles and for which there had never been room on their albums. Without Lennon and McCartney to stimulate as well as frustrate him, he would never produce such quality material again."

Actually I agree that if you'd do a best of Harrison list, his written during Beatles times but released in the early 70s songs would come out on top. But he wrote some good songs afterwards, too, and I loved what he did with the Travelling Wilburies. Still, it's the overall context that makes this musical judgment of Philipp Norman's just one more attack. As for the view of George as non-stop bitter man, that's not one you get when reading Michael Palin's diaries, who knew George as a generous patron, nor is it verified by something that Norman himself mentions though curiously without seeing how that contradicts his earlier assessment - his lack of vengefulness and complete acceptance of the Eric Clapton and Pattie situation. Norman is also very selective with his quotes when presenting George as unrelentingly hostile towards Paul post-break up. (Something that also gives him the opportunity to call Paul a hypocrite for the "he was my baby brother and I loved him" statement.) Yes, he took some shots over the years, and they could be nasty. ("Music for 14 years olds" and "Paul ruined me as a guitarist" come to mind, and of course the playing lead guitar in "How do you sleep?" . But he also was there in times of distress (after the pot bust in Japan plus nine days in prison disaster, and when one of the surviving Beatles had to testify at a hearing involving the Star Club tapes, George went because this was directly after Linda McCartney's death and Paul was in no condition to), and they shared times of joy as well; just as Paul went to some of George's concerts, George went to some of Paul's. He was the only one of the other three to acknowledge in public that Paul had been right about Allen Klein (and the original lawsuit) even though all of the other three sued Klein in the 70s. Though his own contract with Northern Songs ended in 1967 and his later songs were not published there anymore, he nonetheless went on the mat for John and Paul at the very height of his resentment against them, in the spring of 1969. (They were both on their honeymoon and thus abroad when Dick James let it slip that he had sold Northern Songs, i.e. the entire Lennon/McCartney catalogue plus any songs John and Paul would write until 1973, which was when their own contract would run out, and George, again despite the fact this was the very moment in the Beatles saga where his hostility against them brimmed over in public arguments, went to James to try and stop this, replying to James' attempts that did didn't matter with "it matters a great deal to John and Paul!")

And in his 2001 chat he shoots attempts to bait him down with these lovely replies:

a_t_m98 asks: Mr. Harrison.. what is the opening chord you used for "A Hard Days Night"?
george_harrison_live: It is F with a G on top (on the 12-string)
george_harrison_live: But you'll have to ask Paul about the bass note to get the proper story.
spongeweed70508 asks: Does Paul still piss you off (tell us the truth)
george_harrison_live: Scan not a friend with a microscopic glass -- You know his faults -- Then let his foibles pass.
george_harrison_live: Old Victorian Proverb.
george_harrison_live: I'm sure there's enough about me that pisses him off, but I think we have now grown old enough to realize
george_harrison_live: that we're both pretty damn cute!


That was a Yahoo chat; he then did an MSN one where the moderator actually asked him "is it true that you got into the Beatles because you could play the whole of Twenty Flight Rock?" (Head. Desk.) To which George, unfazed, replied: "Actually, that was Paul, but I can play it, too."

In the Anthology which was made in the mid-90s, you can see both the occasional tense moment and shared laughter, plus George remembers how to play a song Paul started to write as a teenager and didn't even finish ("Thinking of Linking"), which btw also proves remarkable musical memory (presumably he last played that little unfinished ditty in the 50s!). It always struck me as a very sibling-esque relationship, with the very thing that annoyed George (being regarded as the little brother) also the thing that kept them returning to each other (because the "brother" part was as true as the "little"). Because of George's long illness, as opposed to John's sudden death, they had plenty of time to say goodbye; in fact George died in a house that used to belong to Paul, and they saw each other two weeks before George's death, when, according to the doctor, "Paul sat down next to him and, taking hold of George's hands, started rubbing them gently", and stayed the entire day, with George in a good mood, talking about Hamburg, losing his virginity, all the old times. So for Norman to claim George died bitterly feuding with Paul simply isn't true.

Not that Philipp Norman is that firm with the facts in this obituary anyway. After chastizing George for his immediate reaction to John's death (" like McCartney he was unable to comment on it at the time with more than inappropriate 1960s flipness"), he then goes on to write grudgingly "Of the surviving Beatles he was the only one to record a tribute song, All Those Years Ago, sung at the anomalously cheerful tempo of a Scouts' campfire chorus". Err, Philipp N., first of all, can't see the similarity between All Those Years Ago and "a Scout's campfire chorus", and secondly, how was George the only Beatle to record a John tribute song? Whom do you think Paul's "Here Today" is about, some other guy whom Paul wrote songs with and who died? (As for Ringo, he plays on George's song and on Paul's entire Tug of War album from which Here Today hails.)

You know, I reallly, really hope they won't let Philipp Norman write the Paul and Ringo obituaries as well. But given the practice of newspapers to order obituaries years ahead of time, I'm afraid they might have already.

...you know what helps to get over annoyance with stupid fanboys (be they journalists or not) ? Other than ranting which is what I just did now. :) Re-read old Beatles press conferences in which they pwn stupid journalists.

13th August 1965 in New York City

Q: Is matrimony in the immediate future for the two unmarried members of the group?
Paul: Uh, matrimony is not in the immediate future.
George: Paul won't have me.
Q: I noticed the two married men are sitting together, and the two single boys are sitting together.
John: That's 'cause we're queer.
Ringo: But don't tell anybody, will you? It's a secret.


29th August 1965 in Los Angeles:

Q: This is a double-barreled question directed at both George and Paul, who are the two remaining...
George: We're not getting married, no. He still refuses to say yes.
Q: You're both the only bachelors, and you're not gonna give us any indication of what your matrimonial plans might be?
George: Well, soon we're gonna just get an answering service for that question.
Paul: We're both queer anyway, you know. How often do we have to tell you? Write that one in your magazines!

(Yes, the "we're gay" thing is repetitive, but so is the "are you getting married?" question.) Also fun to sweep annoyance away: cover versions by other legends. Paul always said the biggest compliment the Beatles ever received by a fellow musician was Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band being released on a Friday and Jimi Hendrix, on tour in London, opening with the title song the same Sunday. Here's Jimi Hendrix covering the Beatles (observe that warning at the start!), and below Paul telling his Jimi story, guest-starring Eric Clapton:



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