The Beguiled

The premise of Sofia Coppola's The Beguiled is almost literally a Monty Python sketch; the Pythons' Holy Grail, perhaps in a sendup of the source novel and previous film adaptation, has a scene with a setup that's only slightly more ridiculous.  In both cases, a young man (for the Pythons, a knight, for Coppola, a Union soldier) is injured and reaches a haven with no men to be found (in Grail, a monastery with nuns, in Beguiled, a boarding school with a couple of teachers and one rstudent who's rather mature for her age).  It's not hard to see the comic possibilities: in the climax of the Pythons' scene, one of the nuns announces their plans, stating, "And after the spanking, the oral sex!"  The knight replies, "Well, I could stay a bit longer..."

The inherent silliness is not lost on Coppola.  She's included some rather amusing moments in her film, particularly a scene in which the teachers and girls sing to the soldier.  As they beam at him and he smiles right back, there are a million things left unsaid.

And yet this film is actually toned down from the 1971 Clint Eastwood version, which is by all accounts much raunchier.  Even though the 2017 version is the more modern film, it's this one that relies more on meaningful glances.  There's been much discussion of the male gaze in recent years; you could say this film is about the female gaze, and the projections the women put onto the soldier: as a protector, an escape, or perhaps just a night of fun.

Yet apart from this theme and a couple of melodramatic twists that follow the source material, there isn't much to the film.  It's hard to see why Coppola felt a remake was necessary.  Particularly undeveloped are the relationships between the women, which seems like a missed opportunity in light of some juicy assignations that go down late in the film.  A worthwhile remake of this story could be made.  But this isn't it.

The Golden Slumbers Suite

I just got a book of essays on Beatles songs.  I'm doing one on the Golden Slumbers suite, because I can.

I prefer Paul.  I know that this is not the cool answer.  I know that John Lennon was a brilliant songwriter--probably more brilliant than Paul.  I know that I will never be smart enough to appreciate many of Lennon's songs.  I know that the Beatles would not have been a great band without the magic of the Lennon-McCartney collaboration.  I know that they would have been a lot less special with George Harrison.  (I'll put "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" up there with anything they ever did.)  I know that Ringo was fun.

I know that Paul could be maudlin.  Like Brett Favre, who once held the records for most touchdowns and interceptions, they are probably few people in pop history who have written more bad songs than McCartney.  I will forever hold a grudge against him for writing the hideous "Wonderful Christmastime," an insipid ditty for which he's probably made royalties in excess of the annual GDP of some small nations.

But come on.  Just look at this motherfucker's oeuvre.  If he had never written a song after the Beatles split, he would still be one of the greatest pop songwriters of all time.  If he had never written a song until after they split, he would still be on the greatest pop songwriters of all time.  One of my maxims is that songwriters have to keep experimenting to stay vital; basically no one in the pop canon can hold a candle to Macca in that regard.  He still doesn't get enough credit for how much he pushed himself.  From helping create pop's DNA with the Beatles to "Ram" to Wings to electronica to classical, he moved forward over and over instead of resting on his laurels.  Just listen to "Band on the Run," a song that's been played to death and yet still sounds interesting, thanks to Paul's funky detours.

The best part of Dave Grohl's Sound City, in which he records collaborations with pop stars using a famous sound board, is when McCartney, who's there to record "Long Tall Sally" with the surviving members of Nirvana, ditches that plan and says, "That's been done before.  Let's do something new."  They proceed to write "Cut Me Some Slack," five minutes of dumb, fun rock, in a matter of hours.  Grohl says, "If only it were always this easy."  Macca says, "It is."  That's Paul McCartney.

***

So where were we?  Oh, yeah, the Golden Slumbers suite.  Paul promises "I will sing you a lullaby," and boy does he ever.  Yes, it's boring to say it, but the melodies here are gorgeous.  Moreover, it's a nice quick spin through the Beatles' sound at the close of the final album they recorded.  There are guitar solos, horns, a callback to "You Never Give Me Your Money," and vocals from all four members.

Then there are the words.  Another maxim of mine: it's really hard to write lyrics that are profound without sounding silly.  Paul nails it here.  "Once there was a way/To get back homeward" is the perfect line for if your band is breaking up or your partner left you or your job sucks or basically any situation in which you realize that childhood was the best time, dammit, and you didn't appreciate it when you had the chance.  "Boy, you're gonna carry that weight" is a perfect pop juxtaposition, an uplifting melody undercut with melancholy.  You'll never find a better pub singalong.

And then?  "And in the end/The love you take/Is equal to the love/You make."  Would that it were true!  But you have to believe it, at least sometimes, or you'll never make it through your days.  Yes, Lennon was great.  But we needed Paul McCartney.