Wall of Paul

The notion that this country used to be a soda pop river of gee-whiz guilelessness, is, of course, a standard-issue lie of the mass media. Allow me to introduce you to slavery, the Civil War, the genocide of Native Americans, World War I, the Depression, World War II, and the Red Scare, to name a few obvious points of departure. But JFK had just been shot dead 10 weeks before John (SCREAM!), Paul (SCREAM!), George (SCREAM!), and Ringo (SCREAM!) touched ground in America. So, to say the least, the citizenry had been in a funk. Think back to your post-9-11 blues, and you’ll get the general idea. People felt blind-sided by an obscene twist of fate.

That said, the miles of black & white footage that Albert and David Maysles shot while following the Beatles in February, 1964 illustrates that our society was able, even in one of its darkest moments, to cut loose for all the right reasons. Although they couldn't have known it, the Maysles were there for the beginning of a bold experiment based on the hoary concepts of love and hope, just as they and their cameras would be present when the experiment collapsed from exhaustion at Altamont Speedway five years later. The Stones, the Hell’s Angels, and a dumb kid waving a gun set the tone for that one.

If you’re a big Beatles fan, or if you simply hum along when one of their tunes wafts into your personal sphere of existence, “The First U.S. Visit” is never less than fascinating. Even at this early stage of the game, the Beatles can be enjoyed as spectacularly charismatic individuals who somehow managed to shine brighter as a unit. Given what we know the passage of time will do to these guys - the good, the bad, and the mystical of their trajectory - it’s genuinely surprising to see them so nonplussed by the tidal wave of adulation foaming up around them.

God only knows how the Maysles brothers could have sat on this footage for as long as they did; most of it didn’t appear, in any form, until the 1990s. The movie is loaded with jaw-dropping moments that seem like something out of a dream. The gaps in a well-known story are filled before your very eyes.

The airport press conference, during which the boys charm some grizzled reporters with a series of one-liners that Elvis couldn’t have convincingly read off a cue card, let alone made up on the fly, is just the beginning. Shortly after that, we actually climb into the car with John, Paul, and Ringo (George, if I’m not mistaken, is in another car with his sister, who lived in the States) for their ride to the Plaza Hotel.

Throughout the trip, Paul has a transistor radio - which, in a nice Warholian touch, is designed to look like a Pepsi machine - pinned to his ear. To a man, the three friends marvel at their good fortune; the New York airwaves are jammed with reports of their arrival. Then, while an artificially zippy cigarette commercial interrupts the reverie, Paul falls into a series of mocking jibes that transforms the scene into something out of “A Hard Day’s Night.” There’s an almost mythical level of cool in this vehicle.

That same feeling arises throughout the film. The easy camaraderie, as the Beatles lounge about in their hotel suite while the world goes crazy around them, speaks volumes about how they managed to survive their ascension without going insane. They were definitely the calm at the center of the storm. By the time you board the train with them and head toward concerts in Washington, D.C. and Miami, you feel like you’re tagging along with the most popular guys in class, except that the class happens to be the entire country. (The show in D.C., by the way, rocks with a brutal, punk-like urgency. It makes their famous Ed Sullivan appearances look dainty by comparison.)

The Beatles are always captivating, but the crowds of variously shrieking and hyperventilating teenagers that they encounter are just as much fun. There’s a sweetness rising to the top of these sequences that - when you consider our current state of fandom, in which Madonna’s marketing acumen gets as much attention as her music - seems almost other-worldly. Girls sing “We Love You Beatles” in thick, Long Island accents. The boys, sporting the horn-rimmed glasses and slicked-back hair that they would soon abandon, hilariously try to convince some bored cops that they know the Beatles and should be escorted to their room. I mean it, the whole movie is a blast.

The real secret to the Beatles success, at least in the early going, was that they supplied their audience with a string of sparkling jingles that promoted the possibilities of an unsullied spirit. The Beatles gave the audience a jolt, a reason to celebrate, and this film makes it obvious that the audience gave the same thing back to them. As magical as these young men were, there was even more magic to be found in that simple, pure-hearted transaction. Thank goodness we have “The Beatles: The First U.S. Visit” to prove that such a thing is supposed to be possible. You certainly won’t find any evidence of it in today’s newspaper.

- Paul Tatara