The central problem with documentaries is that they are - at best - when they surprise, intrigue or even shock. The story of The Beatles is only behind the story of Jesus in being constantly re-told.
Even with the novelty of the focus being on George Harrison (for a change) you come with a heavy heart: knowing that you are, probably, going to see a lot of familiar film stock, hear a lot of familiar songs and yawn through a lot of misty-eyed wasn't-he-great backslapping from the great and the good.
Thankfully Martin Scorsese knows all this and - at least - tries to get original and unseen material, original interviews (but no Dylan or Jeff Lynne - why?) and dabbles with unorthodox approaches, including home movies. The opening and closing images (George in his beloved garden) being the most striking.
(The balance he gets totally wrong - his son Dhani gets so little interview time for a start.)
This clearly isn't going to be the best doc about Harrison in a hundred years time. It is aimed at me - the all-too-knowing viewer who has lived it though the papers, TV and even cinema. To enjoy this (and even make sense of it) you have to be able to fill in the many blanks yourself.
Major bombshells are avoided. Sometimes for no reason. The My Sweet Lord plagiarism case (he lost) is not even mentioned once! The farce of the Concert for Bangladesh which saw not one penny go to those in immediate need (here the film is deceptive to the point of being misleading!) The media comments about after hearing about Lennon's murder only to go back to sleep!
People loved this man. As Madonna said, "there isn't a bad bone in him." Well there was a few small ones. He took a lot of hard drugs (probably explaining his pasty-faced shambling stage performances glimpsed here) and he smoked very heavily. He also dosed unknowing people with acid. He cheated on his second wife (she says so herself in highly rehearsed code) and was strange (maybe greedy) with money. Who else goes in to tax exile when fighting cancer?
(How many mansions and exotic holidays can anybody want?)
He didn't actually write much, but it was usually pretty good when he did. Some of my favourite Beatles tracks are his, but the constant claims about "being squeezed out of the albums" has never borne much examination. When it was brilliant it got on. The mediocre stuff was junked. Lennon and Macca were the only ones allowed so-so material.
As a guitarist, not very good. OK on a good day. Here they give half-hearted praise about his slide work. Pete Townsend said (on hearing the tracks without the vocals) how ropey and out-of-tune they often sounded. Next to (best mate) Clapton he sounded like a guy playing in a pub. Not that he actually pretended otherwise.
I simply don't understand eastern mysticism or like eastern music. That is probably my ignorance/loss. However it clearly involves a lot of sitting on bottoms trying to feel good about yourself. Mansions, motor racing and electric guitars - his other three clear loves - are built by people who don't do a lot of these things. You know something, the material world has more going for it than these orange-clad layabouts would acknowledge.
Even with the novelty of the focus being on George Harrison (for a change) you come with a heavy heart: knowing that you are, probably, going to see a lot of familiar film stock, hear a lot of familiar songs and yawn through a lot of misty-eyed wasn't-he-great backslapping from the great and the good.
Thankfully Martin Scorsese knows all this and - at least - tries to get original and unseen material, original interviews (but no Dylan or Jeff Lynne - why?) and dabbles with unorthodox approaches, including home movies. The opening and closing images (George in his beloved garden) being the most striking.
(The balance he gets totally wrong - his son Dhani gets so little interview time for a start.)
This clearly isn't going to be the best doc about Harrison in a hundred years time. It is aimed at me - the all-too-knowing viewer who has lived it though the papers, TV and even cinema. To enjoy this (and even make sense of it) you have to be able to fill in the many blanks yourself.
Major bombshells are avoided. Sometimes for no reason. The My Sweet Lord plagiarism case (he lost) is not even mentioned once! The farce of the Concert for Bangladesh which saw not one penny go to those in immediate need (here the film is deceptive to the point of being misleading!) The media comments about after hearing about Lennon's murder only to go back to sleep!
People loved this man. As Madonna said, "there isn't a bad bone in him." Well there was a few small ones. He took a lot of hard drugs (probably explaining his pasty-faced shambling stage performances glimpsed here) and he smoked very heavily. He also dosed unknowing people with acid. He cheated on his second wife (she says so herself in highly rehearsed code) and was strange (maybe greedy) with money. Who else goes in to tax exile when fighting cancer?
(How many mansions and exotic holidays can anybody want?)
He didn't actually write much, but it was usually pretty good when he did. Some of my favourite Beatles tracks are his, but the constant claims about "being squeezed out of the albums" has never borne much examination. When it was brilliant it got on. The mediocre stuff was junked. Lennon and Macca were the only ones allowed so-so material.
As a guitarist, not very good. OK on a good day. Here they give half-hearted praise about his slide work. Pete Townsend said (on hearing the tracks without the vocals) how ropey and out-of-tune they often sounded. Next to (best mate) Clapton he sounded like a guy playing in a pub. Not that he actually pretended otherwise.
I simply don't understand eastern mysticism or like eastern music. That is probably my ignorance/loss. However it clearly involves a lot of sitting on bottoms trying to feel good about yourself. Mansions, motor racing and electric guitars - his other three clear loves - are built by people who don't do a lot of these things. You know something, the material world has more going for it than these orange-clad layabouts would acknowledge.