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When the cult at the film’s opening is unable to proceed with their ritual because their intended victim is not wearing the sacrificial ring and the screen abruptly jump cuts to a projected black and white - the only such sequence in the film, a deliberate call back to their first film? - performance by The Beatles of the title song, who do we see has the ring on his finger? Ringo. Of course, it’s Ringo. The film doesn’t need to supply us with an explanation (although it does, off-handedly at some point and I’ve conveniently chosen to forget said circumstances.) It simply stands to reason that if a ring from a cult was missing, it would turn up on Ringo’s finger and he would be unable to get the ring off easily. That’s who Ringo was.

For their parts, all four of The Beatles were naturals at performing with an inherent charisma and a complete willingness to downplay and undersell their scenes and dialogue (as opposed to mugging and overt clowning) that is remarkably refreshing. The film feels as cinematically inspired and fresh as if it had just come out yesterday, and manages to avoid the trap of simply being a nostalgic document. Lester shoots the musical scenes in far-flung locations, in what might be described as prototypical music video but in each he takes care to capture the joy of performance. Whether it’s in a studio, on the slopes, or on a beach, The Beatles seem genuinely alive and electrified to be playing together. I think of a grin on McCartney’s face as a sun beam lights him from behind or Starr’s deadpan tambourine shaking as he sits in Lennon’s sunken apartment bed.

It would be an exercise in futility to attempt to chart the logistics of the screenplay as constructed by Marc Behm & Charles Wood but admiration must be given to any story that allows an on-screen moment for an escaped tiger who can only be soothed with a spirited humming of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Interspersed with The Beatles numbers are more than a few classical riffs and references such as this that help place the band in a larger context while almost foreshadowing the day their songs would be deemed classic rock.

Having not seen A Hard Day’s Night yet (with its Oscar-nominated screenplay by Alun Owen) I can only hazard a guess that Help! comes off as more frenetic and vignette-driven than the former. A Hard Day’s Night would seem bound by its mockumentary approach and 36 hours in the life of time constraints while Help! suffers from no such restrictions. It strives for a sustained absurdity that heralds the impending arrival of Monty Python’s Flying Circus but is entirely too good-natured to crossover into that level of cut-throat take no prisoners satire and silliness. This everything-and-the-kitchen sink –approach certainly allows for any number of surprises as to where the action will turn to next but it also guarantees a certain raggedness and level of exhaustion, like a veddy British live-action take on a Looney Tunes theme. When the story simply forces itself to come to an end, to find a way to draw the curtain on the hijinks, it comes as somewhat of a relief.

Still for its energy, its music, its dazzling splash of colors (particularly as rendered in the print used for the 2007 DVD transfer) and for its furthering of The Beatles as icons in their own time, I am happy to have Help! Now just imagine The Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin having attempted something similar. Having a hard time doing so? Precisely.

Next time: Because really, why SHOULD everyone have to die at the end of Hamlet?

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