And recall Yellow Submarine for its best and purest quality: It’s a parade of color, swirling and ebullient. Sure, we can get balled up in production factoids and what each band member’s contributions were, but that feels so beyond the film itself. We all still live on it, in some way or another. One could surmise there’d be no Terry Gilliam animation without it. Toys, t-shirts, even a Lego set of the titular submersible. Countless digital reissues of the film have come and gone with new featurettes and commentaries, new generations each getting curious vantages on the legendary quartet’s output.
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But how to appraise Yellow Submarine when volumes of encyclopedic literature and paraphernalia have been produced on the matter? It’s the Beatles, man! What more can be said? There are enormous books on the film’s making. Here we are, tickled pink to dive into Yellow Submarine. Just how many cartoons can say that they play like Disney on acid? Like Bakshi, before Bakshi? Like riding a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies? They gamely satirized Bond-like adventures with their marvelous HELP!. They rivaled the French New Wave with A Hard Day’s Night in what could be called the proto-music video experience.
But this reflection, right here, is less about trivia, and more about just how damn good those Beatles were, and the movies they could inspire.
Such is the danger of reflecting on 50 years of pop cultural bedrock: natural weathering. We’re not there yet with the Beatles, are we? Meme-able? Resentfully popular? Dating them as bygone in a way resembling how we talk about James Bond’s machismo, or Woodstock’s Boomer naiveté? Oh, those Beatles and their lollipop lyrics and LSD-fueled hijinks. The caption imagined something like “A BEATLEMANIAC TRYING TO SHARE TRIVIA AGAIN EVEN THOUGH YOU DIDN’T ASK.” The other day, there was this meme on Instagram featuring a picture of John Mayer making a pained open mouth, with a spoon being forced upon him.
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