"'Yesterday' - An Improbable Film That Somehow Won't Let You Go"

Which may have already left town because it wasn’t that popular but I am writing about it anyway, possibly identifying with the unpopularity.  Or because it’s a well-meaning movie and don’t we all need one during times like our own.

British screenwriter/director Richard Curtis who specializes in appealing romantic comedies – quintessentially exemplified by Love Actually, which ought to have a comma between “Love” and “Actually” but inexplicably does not – has crafted a warmhearted fantasy that may not rise to the level of “Nice going” but satisfactorily reaches the standard of “Nice trying.”

Here’s the problem I have with science-fiction.

“Wait.  Is ‘Yesterday’ science fiction?”

No. 

“Then, why did you mention…”

I am getting to it, okay?

“First day back from vacation?”

Yes.

“Then we will cut you some slack.  Meander away at your leisure.”

Thank you.

My problem with science-fiction is that it seems annoyingly arbitrary.  An imagined world is created where they now do this when they used to do that.  (A generalization, although generally correct.)   

My brother and another comedy writer were working on a futuristic premise about a planet that was exactly like earth except for one thing.  My brother pitched the distinguishing difference about the virtually identical planet:  “They don’t have Pepsi.”  To which the other comedy writer spontaneously replied:  “They have Pepsi.  But they drink it hot!”

To me, that’s science-fiction.  They make crazy stuff up and we’re supposed to go, “Sure.”

So – belatedly, though some people don’t mind – with Yesterday.

(Spoiler Alert:  I am giving everything away.)

A struggling, young singer/songwriter slams into a bus during a brief, worldwide blackout, and when he comes to, no one remembers the Beatles but him.  (They also have no concept of Coca Cola, smoking, cigarettes and in the film’s “Here we go again” fade-out, Harry Potter.)  (But it could be anything, right?)

Pretending he wrote them himself, the young singer/songwriter builds his career performing the entire Beatles songbook, becoming wildly successful on the back of this great, purloined material.

Complications ensue.  Most of them predictable, though not excruciatingly so.

Except, complains the “Inspector Javert” of logical unlikelihood,

How did he remember all of the words to all of those songs?  (There is one joke about his mangling the lyrics to “For The Benefit of Mr. Kite”, but come on!  A guy in his twenties with no displayed interest in the Beatles recalls everything else?” 

“Go with the flow, baby.  They drink it hot.”

And he’s the only one who remembers?  (It turns out he isn’t, providing the storyline a surprising “twist.”  I have ruined everything else, but I shall keep that one a secret.  I guess I’m as unreliable as sci-fi.)   

There is also a sweet interlude in which the song-stealing scalawag meets an undead and unfamous – weirdly believable-looking – John Lennon, who offers a North-Star- focusing message of nurturing love and unwavering truthfulness. 

That scene is just shimmering. 

Also a treat are snippets of clever dialogue Curtis is known for, as in when his artless manager opines about the kid’s one self-written song – and I quote, almost verbatim:

“I hate that song.  I’m not exactly sure why.  But I hate it too much to listen to it again to try and figure it out.”

The manager also insists on changing the classic Beatles anthem to “Hey, Dude!”

I believe there are at least three things in the movie I haven’t given away, so I’d say it is still worth seeing.  If only for the gentle good feelings it sends out. 

A flawed film, making you feel somewhat better?

Thank you, Richard Curtis.  Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

Wait.  I just stole from Simon and Garfunkel.

A propos, I would say.

(As opposed to “glaring easy way out.”)

Oh well.

It is my first day back.

Written on Monday, August 5, 2019.