Sep 2014 *
I have seen the light. An atheist no more, I can say to you, hand on heart, that there is a God. And, what’s more I can prove it.
If you’re anything like me*, you’ve probably been wondering what would happen if Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battled the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and, er… Frankie Howerd,
with a glorious medley of Beatles covers.
You haven’t?
Well, I have for years. But how, in God’s sweet everlasting everything, would I answer this particular conundrum?
Thankfully, less than a year after I was born (how serendipitous – it’s almost as if a certain Big Man in the Sky knew I’d want to know in the future…), Hollywood power trio of Michael Schultz, Henry Edwards and Robert Stigwood (“Who?!” I hear you cry) were on hand to answer this question of the ages. In 1978 they directed, wrote and produced Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!
Now before I go any further in this review, I would just like to reiterate the concept of this film. Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battle the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and Frankie Howerd with a medley of Beatles covers.
Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battle the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and Frankie Howerd with a medley of Beatles covers.
Peter! Frampton! And! The! Bee! Gees! Battle! The! Combined! Evil! Forces! Of! Donald! Pleasance!, Alice! Cooper!, Aerosmith!, And! Frankie! Howerd! With! A! Medley! Of! Beatles! Covers!
Has there ever been a more awesome premise for a film in the history of… well the history of blummin’ everything???!!!
Why is this film not the ultimate box office master piece, the zenith of artistic endeavour, and still raking in unheard of profits in soundtrack sales, reissues, and remakes?
Well, because it’s bloody terrible, that’s why!
But, it’s terrible to such an incredible degree, that it somehow transcends its innate badness and transforms into a kind of all consuming, anti-naff singularity that sucks all certainty out of mortal minds, and leaves the viewer in inner turmoil, staring, in some kind of twisted hybrid of awe and disgust, positive and negative, yin and yang, at the sparkling teeth and bright colours displayed on the screen (this would make the scariest ever 3D movie, by the way, on account of all the teeth on display) until the grand finale. This simply cannot be the work of mortal men!
So, what is it that makes it so bad?
You mean besides that?
Firstly, it consists of a veritable A-Z of singers who should never have acted in movies, and actors who have no place singing in one. In fact the singers ‘acting’ is so bad that all of the spoken dialogue (not just the singers’) has been either been overdubbed by George Burns’ narrator (Mr Kite…), or cast aside to the editing room floor. There’s no denying the talent on display, but sadly that talent is completely misdirected.
Secondly, as a musical, it’s about as catchy as the Higgs-Boson - these people have made Beatles songs sound bad!
Thirdly, as a comedy, it’s slightly less funny than the Battle of The Somme…
The plot, thin as it is, concerns Frampton’s Billy Shears and the Gibb bros’ Hendersons as the ‘new’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, who live in twee Heartland USA, wearing their colourful dungarees and pastel shirts, gaily singing and swinging in a white-picket fence world. Soon, their popularity is so great, they are whisked away to the bright lights and hedonistic world of drink and drugs and groupies, as they sign for the villainous D.B. Hoffler (Pleasence), tempted by humorously oversized banknotes and Lucy (Dianne Steinberg) and the Diamonds (Stargard).
Meanwhile, with the Peppers trapped L.A.-L.A. Land, Mean Mr Mustard (Howerd) takes over Heartland by stealing the original Pepper’s magical instruments – the only thing that keeps Heartland pure. But Mustard is merely a pawn, carrying out the machinations of the mysterious FVB (later unveiled as Aerosmith as the Future Villain Band), who want to brainwash the kids to get their money. They are helped by the sinister, brainwashing guru, Father Sun (Cooper looking every inch like Frank Zappa),
and the maniacal Dr Maxwell Edison (a scenery chewing Steve Martin cameo).
Can the wholesome Strawberry Fields (Sandy Farina) release the boys from temptation and save Heartland from corrup…
Ah, fuck it. It’s completely anti-climactic, anyway. Here’s Aerosmith singing ComeTogether, instead.
Let’s face it, the plot is irrelevant to this turkey. What’s important is the badness, the contrived crowbarring of Beatles’ songs into a shitty narrative in a really ham-fisted way. There’s greatness and badness in unequal measure, and in a truly surreal scene (which is saying something in the face of all this nuttiness!), Earth Wind & Fire pop up out of nowhere as themselves singing Got To Get You Into My Life!
There’s awful comedy, and, more importantly, much funnier unintentional comedy. Best example of the latter being the sombre singing of Golden Slumbers at Strawberry Fields funeral that transitions into Carry That Weight as the pop pallbearers lift the coffin. How did no one realise the connotations of that song choice?
There’s the jolly When I’m Sixty Four, turned into a pre-rape gloat from Mean Mr Mustard, there’s Steve Martin’s insane rendition of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.
There’s Robin Gibb’s gurning face, and there’s Barry Gibb KO-ing Alice Cooper with one punch.
All of this and so much more, including what can only be described as an incredibly fruity rendition of Get Back by gold-clad occasional Fifth Beatle, Billy Preston, appearing as a reincarnated Dr Pep… I mean Sgt Pepper as deus ex machina.
Fruity
Then there’s the grand finale. And what a finale it is!
Out of nowhere pop a studio full of ‘70s celebrities to sing Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise). And who are they? Well the full list looks something like this:
Peter Allen, Curtis Mayfield, Keith Allison, Cousin Bruce Morrow (Cousin Brucie), George Benson, Peter Noone, Elvin Bishop, Alan O'Day, Stephen Bishop, Lee Oskar, Jack Bruce, The Paley Brothers, Keith Carradine, Robert Palmer, Carol Channing, Wilson Pickett, "Charlotte, Sharon, and Ula", Anita Pointer, Jim Dandy, Bonnie Raitt, Sarah Dash, Helen Reddy, Rick Derringer,Minnie Riperton, Barbara Dickson, Chita Rivera, Donovan, Johnny Rivers, Randy Edelman, Monte Rock III, Yvonne Elliman, Danielle Rowe, Jose Feliciano, Sha-Na-Na, Leif Garrett, Del Shannon, Geraldine Granger, Joe Simon, Adrian Gurvitz, Seals & Crofts, Billy Harper, Connie Stevens, Eddie Harris, Al Stewart, Heart, John Stewart, Nona Hendryx, Tina Turner, Barry Humphries, Frankie Valli, Etta James, Gwen Verdon, Dr. John, Diane Vincent, Bruce Johnston, Grover Washington, Jr., Joe Lala, Hank Williams Jr., D.C. LaRue, Johnny Winter, Jo Leb,Wolfman Jack, Marcy Levy, Bobby Womack, Mark Lindsay, Alan White, Nils Lofgren, Lenny White, Jackie Lomax, Margaret Whiting, John Mayall, and Gary Wright.
So what, you say, has all this nonsense this to do with Jono finding God?
As I said before, nothing so cosmically awesome, yet terrible, could have been born of human hands, or even evolution. Only intelligent design could be responsible for this masterpiece of abomination. Everything about this film is at the same time terrible, and a thing of beauty. It truly is the epitome of the concept of ‘so bad it’s good’ cinema. It couldn’t have happened by accident.
Yes, Sgt Pepper’s is my proof that there is a God, and he is surely the very Devil himself - he must be, they do say he gets the best tunes, after all!
So, if your faith has ever been wavering, even in the slightest, here is the answer. Watch the fucking film, already!
*in need of some psychological help
I have seen the light. An atheist no more, I can say to you, hand on heart, that there is a God. And, what’s more I can prove it.
If you’re anything like me*, you’ve probably been wondering what would happen if Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battled the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and, er… Frankie Howerd,
with a glorious medley of Beatles covers.
You haven’t?
Well, I have for years. But how, in God’s sweet everlasting everything, would I answer this particular conundrum?
Thankfully, less than a year after I was born (how serendipitous – it’s almost as if a certain Big Man in the Sky knew I’d want to know in the future…), Hollywood power trio of Michael Schultz, Henry Edwards and Robert Stigwood (“Who?!” I hear you cry) were on hand to answer this question of the ages. In 1978 they directed, wrote and produced Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!
Now before I go any further in this review, I would just like to reiterate the concept of this film. Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battle the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and Frankie Howerd with a medley of Beatles covers.
Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees battle the combined evil forces of Donald Pleasence, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, and Frankie Howerd with a medley of Beatles covers.
Peter! Frampton! And! The! Bee! Gees! Battle! The! Combined! Evil! Forces! Of! Donald! Pleasance!, Alice! Cooper!, Aerosmith!, And! Frankie! Howerd! With! A! Medley! Of! Beatles! Covers!
Has there ever been a more awesome premise for a film in the history of… well the history of blummin’ everything???!!!
Why is this film not the ultimate box office master piece, the zenith of artistic endeavour, and still raking in unheard of profits in soundtrack sales, reissues, and remakes?
Well, because it’s bloody terrible, that’s why!
But, it’s terrible to such an incredible degree, that it somehow transcends its innate badness and transforms into a kind of all consuming, anti-naff singularity that sucks all certainty out of mortal minds, and leaves the viewer in inner turmoil, staring, in some kind of twisted hybrid of awe and disgust, positive and negative, yin and yang, at the sparkling teeth and bright colours displayed on the screen (this would make the scariest ever 3D movie, by the way, on account of all the teeth on display) until the grand finale. This simply cannot be the work of mortal men!
So, what is it that makes it so bad?
You mean besides that?
Firstly, it consists of a veritable A-Z of singers who should never have acted in movies, and actors who have no place singing in one. In fact the singers ‘acting’ is so bad that all of the spoken dialogue (not just the singers’) has been either been overdubbed by George Burns’ narrator (Mr Kite…), or cast aside to the editing room floor. There’s no denying the talent on display, but sadly that talent is completely misdirected.
Secondly, as a musical, it’s about as catchy as the Higgs-Boson - these people have made Beatles songs sound bad!
Thirdly, as a comedy, it’s slightly less funny than the Battle of The Somme…
The plot, thin as it is, concerns Frampton’s Billy Shears and the Gibb bros’ Hendersons as the ‘new’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, who live in twee Heartland USA, wearing their colourful dungarees and pastel shirts, gaily singing and swinging in a white-picket fence world. Soon, their popularity is so great, they are whisked away to the bright lights and hedonistic world of drink and drugs and groupies, as they sign for the villainous D.B. Hoffler (Pleasence), tempted by humorously oversized banknotes and Lucy (Dianne Steinberg) and the Diamonds (Stargard).
Meanwhile, with the Peppers trapped L.A.-L.A. Land, Mean Mr Mustard (Howerd) takes over Heartland by stealing the original Pepper’s magical instruments – the only thing that keeps Heartland pure. But Mustard is merely a pawn, carrying out the machinations of the mysterious FVB (later unveiled as Aerosmith as the Future Villain Band), who want to brainwash the kids to get their money. They are helped by the sinister, brainwashing guru, Father Sun (Cooper looking every inch like Frank Zappa),
and the maniacal Dr Maxwell Edison (a scenery chewing Steve Martin cameo).
Can the wholesome Strawberry Fields (Sandy Farina) release the boys from temptation and save Heartland from corrup…
Ah, fuck it. It’s completely anti-climactic, anyway. Here’s Aerosmith singing ComeTogether, instead.
Let’s face it, the plot is irrelevant to this turkey. What’s important is the badness, the contrived crowbarring of Beatles’ songs into a shitty narrative in a really ham-fisted way. There’s greatness and badness in unequal measure, and in a truly surreal scene (which is saying something in the face of all this nuttiness!), Earth Wind & Fire pop up out of nowhere as themselves singing Got To Get You Into My Life!
There’s awful comedy, and, more importantly, much funnier unintentional comedy. Best example of the latter being the sombre singing of Golden Slumbers at Strawberry Fields funeral that transitions into Carry That Weight as the pop pallbearers lift the coffin. How did no one realise the connotations of that song choice?
There’s the jolly When I’m Sixty Four, turned into a pre-rape gloat from Mean Mr Mustard, there’s Steve Martin’s insane rendition of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.
There’s Robin Gibb’s gurning face, and there’s Barry Gibb KO-ing Alice Cooper with one punch.
All of this and so much more, including what can only be described as an incredibly fruity rendition of Get Back by gold-clad occasional Fifth Beatle, Billy Preston, appearing as a reincarnated Dr Pep… I mean Sgt Pepper as deus ex machina.
Fruity
Then there’s the grand finale. And what a finale it is!
Out of nowhere pop a studio full of ‘70s celebrities to sing Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise). And who are they? Well the full list looks something like this:
Peter Allen, Curtis Mayfield, Keith Allison, Cousin Bruce Morrow (Cousin Brucie), George Benson, Peter Noone, Elvin Bishop, Alan O'Day, Stephen Bishop, Lee Oskar, Jack Bruce, The Paley Brothers, Keith Carradine, Robert Palmer, Carol Channing, Wilson Pickett, "Charlotte, Sharon, and Ula", Anita Pointer, Jim Dandy, Bonnie Raitt, Sarah Dash, Helen Reddy, Rick Derringer,Minnie Riperton, Barbara Dickson, Chita Rivera, Donovan, Johnny Rivers, Randy Edelman, Monte Rock III, Yvonne Elliman, Danielle Rowe, Jose Feliciano, Sha-Na-Na, Leif Garrett, Del Shannon, Geraldine Granger, Joe Simon, Adrian Gurvitz, Seals & Crofts, Billy Harper, Connie Stevens, Eddie Harris, Al Stewart, Heart, John Stewart, Nona Hendryx, Tina Turner, Barry Humphries, Frankie Valli, Etta James, Gwen Verdon, Dr. John, Diane Vincent, Bruce Johnston, Grover Washington, Jr., Joe Lala, Hank Williams Jr., D.C. LaRue, Johnny Winter, Jo Leb,Wolfman Jack, Marcy Levy, Bobby Womack, Mark Lindsay, Alan White, Nils Lofgren, Lenny White, Jackie Lomax, Margaret Whiting, John Mayall, and Gary Wright.
So what, you say, has all this nonsense this to do with Jono finding God?
As I said before, nothing so cosmically awesome, yet terrible, could have been born of human hands, or even evolution. Only intelligent design could be responsible for this masterpiece of abomination. Everything about this film is at the same time terrible, and a thing of beauty. It truly is the epitome of the concept of ‘so bad it’s good’ cinema. It couldn’t have happened by accident.
Yes, Sgt Pepper’s is my proof that there is a God, and he is surely the very Devil himself - he must be, they do say he gets the best tunes, after all!
So, if your faith has ever been wavering, even in the slightest, here is the answer. Watch the fucking film, already!
*in need of some psychological help
Echo echo-ko-oh
I feel like that twat from 127 Hours stuck in here. Where's my penknife?