SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND 1978

The saying goes that no one starts out intending to make a bad movie. This sounds fine in theory, but the reality is more in line with--no one starts out intending to make a flop. Hollywood makes bad movies all the time. Sometimes willfully (looking at you, Adam Sandler, Kevin James, & Rob Schneider). They just care when their bad movies don't make money. Who's going to call the blatantly lousy (to me) Fast & Furious movies bad when they rake in so much at the boxoffice? 

When boxoffice success becomes the defining standard by which a film is deemed good or bad, creative decisions are ultimately ruled by their marketability and moneymaking potential. And just as there is a subtle, yet significant, difference between someone wanting to be a great actor vs. someone wanting to be a big star; a movie that starts out intending to be a good film is not (necessarily) coming from the same creative mindset as one that sets out to be the next blockbuster boxoffice success. 

Which brings us to Robert Stigwood's $18-million boondoggle, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Peter Frampton as Billy Shears

Sir Barry Gibb as Mark Henderson

Robin Gibb as Dave Henderson

Maurice Gibb as Bob Henderson

Dianne Steinberg as Lucy

Sandy Farina as Strawberry Fields

In early 1978, Robert "Midas Touch" Stigwood was the man who could do no wrong. Producer of the hits Jesus Christ Superstar, Tommy, Saturday Night Fever, and Grease, Stigwood (via his lucrative RSO enterprise) had his hand in theater, film, recording, and personal management. His track record of success was such that when he decided to reconfigure his flop 1974 Off-Broadway Beatles-themed musical Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band on the Road (starring Ted Neeley of JC Superstar and Alaina Reed of TV's 227) into a feature film rock-opera along the lines of Ken Russell's Tommy, no one was going to tell him it might not be such a good idea.

Donald Pleasence as B. D. "Big Deal" Hoffler
...or Brockhurst, if you go by the film's credits and bubble gum cards 

While it certainly could be argued that with Sgt Pepper, Stigwood was ahead of his time in presenting what amounts to being the first jukebox musical (Abba's Mamma Mia! was a good two decades to come), in this instance, the uniqueness of the film's structure proved considerably less problematic than its execution.

George Burns as Mr. Kite

To illustrate: take the Las Vegas-y kitsch and celebrity clusterfuck lineups of '70s variety shows like Sonny & Cher, Donny & Marie, and The Captain & Tennille (they were all the same, weren't they?); top with a pop music trio projecting all the charm-free blandness of The Hudson Brothers forced into an oil-and-water collaboration with a soloist radiating a screen presence not matched in dynamism since Helen Reddy appeared as a nun in Airport 1975.

Drench in a garish, cocaine-color-palette reminiscent of a Sid & Marty Krofft kiddie show; blend in diluted, American Bandstand-friendly arrangements of a catalog of 29 Beatles songs culled from their most innovative albums: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Rubber Soul, Magical Mystery Tour, Revolver, Abbey Road. Ultimately mold into an inchoate fantasy adventure told entirely in song; tack on superfluous narration so soporific it makes Don Kirshner sound caffeinated by comparison, and voilà-- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band: The Movie.

"A Splendid Time is Guaranteed for All!"
This lyric from "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite" was used as the film's
promotional tagline and later came to bite the movie on the ass

Set in the fictional town of Heartland, USA, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (hereafter referred to as SPLHCB) is a musical fable about a wholesome boy band and their magical musical instruments (regrettably, Freddy the Flute fails to make an appearance). Conflict, such as it is, is introduced in the form of an oily music producer named B. D. Hoffler (Donald Pleasence), who interrupts the band's bucolic braying long enough to whisk them off to Los Angeles, where they are to be corrupted by the temptations of sex, drugs, and wealth.
The group's departure allows an organization called F.V.B. (Future Villain Band, played by Aerosmith) to steal the magical musical instruments, which in turn hastens the decline of Heartland, now taken over by an overacting real estate agent named Mr. Mustard (gay British comic Frankie Howerd, who makes Tommy Steele and Zero Mostel look laid-back). The rest of the film is devoted to the Heartland boyband's efforts to retrieve the instruments and save their hometown.

Paul Nicholas as Dougie Shears

By way of a love interest and virginal heroine, we have newcomer Sanday Farina (a kind of bargain-basement Ronee Blakley with a lovely voice) as Strawberry Fields. For femme fatale contrast, there's newcomer and just-as-quickly newgoner Dianne Steinberg as Lucy, a sexy pop singer backed up by The Diamonds, portrayed that '70s R&B trio you forgot to forget, Stargard (their 1976 hit "Wear it Out" is really pretty good).
British actor/singer Paul Nicholas adds to his growing screen resume of unscrupulous creeps playing one of Pepperland's few rotten apples. Iconic "fifth Beatle" Billy Preston, cast as a magical weather vane, is saddled with what can safely be described as the apotheosis of the Magical Negro trope. And last but not least, we have a pair of curvaceous  female robots called The Computerettes (yep, you read that right) aiding and abetting Mr. Mustard and sundry "guest villains."

Even by '70s standards, this was some weird-ass shit.

Frankie Howerd as Mean Mr. Mustard

But, as Ken Russell spectacularly proved in bringing The Who's equally bonkers Tommy (1975) to the screen, a hallucinatory rock-opera with no spoken dialogue and a preposterous plot can be made to work. Provided it's done with some talent and ingenuity. Alas, with SPLHCB, little of either is in evidence.

 OK, that's not really fair. I suppose it does take a special kind of talent to make a film as cheap-looking as this with a budget more than three times that of Ken Russell's visually dazzling film. Likewise, I'm sure it took considerable ingenuity for the producers to drum up much enthusiasm for the film's final cast when what was originally on the table was Olivia Newton-John as Strawberry Fields, Donna Summer as Lucy, Mick Jagger as Future Villain, Bob Hope as Mr. Kite, and Doris Day and Rock Hudson as Mr. and Mrs. Fields.

The emblem of fictional record magnate B.D. Hoffler (r.) spoofs the logo of the Robert 
Stigwood Organization (which is a good luck Japanese toy cow called an akabeko)

I have a hunch that Stigwood had the same kind of micromanaging hand in this film's production as Allan Carr had on the similarly calamitous Can't Stop the Music two years later (you don't hand over a $20m-million production to Rhoda's mother because she's experienced, you do it so you can control her). I say this because SPLHCB is so undistinguished in execution and so indifferently shot, I'm at a severe loss as to know what talented director Michael Schultz (Cooley High, Car Wash) brought to the mix. The film looks like a Kaptain Kool & the Kongs TV special.

Steve Martin as Dr. Maxwell Edison

In virtually every aspect surrounding the development of SPLHCB...both in front of and behind the camera... you'll find an incestuous network of mutually-advantageous business deals and cross-promotions. Stigwood managed the Bee Gees, Peter Frampton's manager was given an executive producer credit, record label distribution deals affected the choice of which recording artists would participate, etc. Contract deals that have everything to do with assembling the most marketable commercial elements available, but precious little to do with entertainment, acquiring the best talent for the job, or (perish the thought) simply making a decent movie.

The backup members of Lucy and the Diamonds are the all-but-forgotten R&B group Stargard, who sang the theme song to Michael Schultz's previous film Which Way Is Up? and, most importantly, were artists signed to the Universal Studios-connected MCA records. 

THE STUFF OF DREAMS   

In fashioning a musical with no spoken dialogue but extensive, expository voice-over narration, SPLHCB is an unhappy-alliance hybrid. A combination of sung-through musicals like Evita, Hamilton, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and Jesus Christ Superstar, and jukebox musicals like Mamma Mia! (ABBA), The Boy From Oz (Peter Allen), and—ironically enough—the 1998 stage production of Saturday Night Fever, which combined songs from the Bee Gees music catalog with songs from the film's soundtrack.

Earth, Wind & Fire had a #1 Soul Charts hit with their version of "Got to Get You Into My Life" 

The stringing together of unconnected Beatles songs to form a narrative is a dicey endeavor at best (something accomplished with considerable charm in the 1968 animated feature film Yellow Submarine). But to attempt to do so without expressive actors able to convey complex emotions (Ann-Margret and Oliver Reed in Tommy) or forceful musical personalities who grow more vividly "present" and alive in performance mode (Michael Jackson and Mick Jagger come to mind) is a fool's errand. Indeed, one that music journalist turned first-time screenwriter Henry Edwards could not overcome in fashioning the screenplay/story for SPLHCB.

Understandable given the era, but in the 1968 animated film Yellow Submarine, the Beatles' songs were presented in ways that emphasized their metaphorical and allegorical properties. Too often, the more literal-minded approach employed by Sgt. Pepper leads to moments of unintentional humor. Like when a coffin is hoisted unsteadily on the narrow shoulders of our heroes to the accompaniment of "Boy, you're gonna carry that weight a long time." 

The classic, Candide-like structure of The Who's Tommy was ideally suited to Roger Daltrey's blank-slate countenance, presenting him as a relatable everyman beset by harrowing encounters with bizarre characters on his journey to spiritual enlightenment. Unfortunately, SPLHCB takes a plot straight out of an episode of The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle (replace the stolen Sgt. Pepper instruments with a Mooseberry bush) but gives us heroes too bland to identify with, a low-stakes adventure that's hard to care about, and villains who shoot for outrageous and funny, only to land at embarrassing and hammy.

Alice Cooper as Father Sun, nee Marvin Sunk

This leaves all the film's heavy-lifting to the Beatles tunes themselves, which are a pretty fantastic lot, and generally well-performed...if not memorably. George Martin, producer of all but one of the Beatles' original records, was the film's musical director, but this didn't prevent the release of the double LP soundtrack album (arguably the only reason the film was made at all) from being a colossal flop. Copies of the soundtrack were found in remainder bins almost before the summer was over.

The night I saw it, laughter greeted this scene where Strawberry Fields sings to Billy about taking him down 'cause she's going to...well, herself. Then proceeds to elaborate, not making one whit of sense.

PERFORMANCES

Anyone who's ever seen the Gibb brothers together on a TV talk show knows how self-deprecating and engagingly funny they can be. On one such program, when asked to come up with Spice Girl-type names for themselves, they answered: Beardy Bee Gee, Teethy Bee Gee, and Baldy Bee Gee. They came across as relaxed, quick to laugh, and highly likable. Alas, none of these qualities are in evidence in SPLHCB. Uncomfortable and self-conscious, the constriction of their too-tight costuming seems to transfer to their performances. Granted, none of them are really given characters to play, but Schultz never finds a way to bring out the brothers' natural charm and relaxed rapport. Even their vocal performances sound hemmed-in.

Positively Ripping
Gibb is bustin' out all over in this shot reminding us that wearing those form-fitting
disco shirts of the '70s (fine for dancing The Hustle) came at a risk

Frampton mostly looks uncomfortable and seems like he wishes Andy Gibb would step in at any moment and take his place. (He never really recovers from how he's introduced in the film: wearing a pink shirt under stark-white, tapered overalls embroidered with a big red flower and the name "Billy"…he looks like the world's tallest, lankiest toddler.) But, of course, I do love the scene where he's supposed to be distraught, and tears stream down his face from his temples and forehead.

Dianne Steinberg and Paul Nicholas make a fun pair of double-crossers.
Too bad the over-busy script never allows their villainy to take root.

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM 

As much as it pains me to admit it, there was a time I really loved this movie (I still do, but I'm speaking of a time when I actually enjoyed it unironically). In my defense, SPLHCB was released a mere four weeks after I'd moved to LA, and I was still heady with the degree of hoopla Tinseltown could unleash when promoting a movie. The publicity push for SPLHCB was enormous, and it was hard not to get swept up in the circus-like atmosphere. In the summer of 1978, disco was king, the Bee Gees were riding high on the phenomenon of Saturday Night Fever (it had opened a mere six months earlier), Frampton was all over the radio, and Steve Martin was THE up-and-coming comic sensation.

A Sunset Strip billboard for Sgt. Pepper overlooks Tower Records
(also visible is an ad for a Steve Martin comedy album and for the band KISS,
an early casting consideration for the Future Villain Band in SPLHCB

I saw the film the day it opened at the Pacific Theater on Hollywood Boulevard. Thinking back, it's remarkable to think I had to stand in line to get in. The hyped-up audience was really in the spirit and they laughed loudly and readily. Applause even broke out when Billy Preston made his appearance.   

Billy Preston as Sergeant Pepper (the weather vane, anyway)

Having grown up in a household with a dyed-in-the-wool Beatle maniac (my older sister), I always loved the music but didn't revere it to the degree that I had a problem with other artists having a crack at it. To this day, Sandy Farina's rendition of George Harrison's "Here Comes the Sun" is my favorite cover of the song. And I thought Aerosmith's version of "Come Together" was a major improvement on the original.

Steven Tyler and Aerosmith as Future Villain Band

The theater was packed that first day, but by the time I saw the film for the 3rd time that summer, the house was nearly empty. As the years have gone by, the new-kid-in-town veil has lifted from my eyes, leaving me aghast that I had once found this largely clumsy enterprise in shameless commerce so entertaining. Happily, its plentiful cons have since morphed into pros, rendering SPLHCB so-bad-it's-good status in perpetuity.

Careers and reputations were decimated by the film's flop reception, but by all accounts
the cocaine flowed freely, so at least I hope everyone involved enjoyed a splendid time.

BONUS MATERIAL

Filmmaker Michael Schultz was Robert Stigwood's first choice to direct the film Grease. When hired for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, Schultz became the first African-American to helm a big-budget musical. Unfortunately, his feature film career took a hit when SPLHCB flopped so tremendously, taking several other careers with it). But Schulz continues to work steadily in television and, in 1991, was inducted into The Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame.

One of two prop trumpets created for the film by Dominic Calicchio is housed at the National Music Museum in Vermillion, SD. An eBay auction purchase donated by Allan R Jones. (Image: SFTrips.com)

The solo albums by Dianne Steinberg (1977) and Sandy Farina (1980) 
failed to cause much of a ripple in the music industry 

Standing 6'3" and made of plaster over a fiberglass frame,
 the Sgt. Pepper weather vane was sold at auction for $1,265 in 2012.  

Your patience for making it to the end of the film is rewarded by a WTF? cluster of "stars" from all walks of the '70s entertainment industry spectrum gathered to recreate the cover of the Sgt. Pepper Album. 

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 -  2019