John & Paul: A Love Story in Songs

‘Ticket to Ride’ glints with meanings; you can walk around it forever and see different shafts of light bounding off its surfaces. It’s about a break-up, viewed through a haze of pot smoke. It’s about a generational shift in the balance of power between men and women. It’s about a shift in the balance of power between John and Paul, as John comes to suspect that Paul doesn’t rely on him quite as much as he relies on Paul.’

This new book by British author Ian Leslie tells the story of John Lennon’s and Paul McCartney’s intimate relationship. Starting with their first meeting at the Woolton Village Fête and ending with Paul’s response to John’s death in 1980. It tells the story by way of the richest primary source of all: the songs they wrote together. Each chapter is anchored in a song that tells us something about the state of their relationship at that time. The main point is that even after the Beatles broke up, John and Paul were inseparable. They merged their souls and multiplied their talents to create the greatest bodies of music in history.

This is also a love story. John and Paul were more than just friends or collaborators in the sense that we normally understand these terms. Their friendship was in a sense a romance, full of longing and passion, riven by jealousy.

The biographical stories told aren’t new – although I certainly learnt new things – but Leslie’s approach still feels fresh. The psychology behind the stories is what sets it apart. Every anecdotal story is approached by how things must have felt and been experienced by John and Paul. It delves into their state of mind at the time certain songs were written.

The first song Leslie discusses is ‘Come Go With Me’, which John performed with the Quarrymen at the Woolton Village Fête. His improvised lyrics impressed Paul, who realized they might connect through a shared passion for music and songwriting. It moves on with their first songs: ‘I Lost My Little Girl’ by Paul and ‘Hello Little Girl’ by John. This was right away the first instance in which the two were borrowing and building on each other’s ideas.

They began writing songs together, something nobody was doing at that time except the Great Ones from America. The two trusted each other enough to let the other hear their unfinished work, and the more they shared the closer they became.

They bonded even more deeply over the loss of their mothers—Paul at 14, John at 17. Paul: “Each of us knew that had happened to the other. At that age you’re not allowed to be devastated and particularly as young boys, teenage boys, you just shrug it off.” It shattered them he later said, but they had to hide how broken they felt. “I’m sure I formed shells and barriers in that period that I’ve got to this day. John certainly did.”

Shells and barriers are defensive fortifications, but for John and Paul this shared trauma also blasted open an underground tunnel through which they were able to communicate in secret from the rest of the world, and even from themselves. In music they could say what they felt without having to say it at all. In 2016, McCartney told Rolling Stone Magazine: “Music is like a psychiatrist. You can tell a guitar things that you can’t tell people. And it will answer you with things people can’t tell you.”

The story goes on with their rise in Hamburg and then in Liverpool. Those who knew the pair marveled at how close they were. Bernie Boyle, a Cavern regular who did some work for the Beatles as a roadie, observed their eerie mental connection: “They were so tight, it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking.”

People were drawn to them, but were also wary of them, for both were capable of shriveling outsiders with wit. Together they had an aura of unbreachable assurance. This was partly the arrogance of the damaged. The well known trauma psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk observes: “After trauma the world becomes sharply divided between those who know and those who don’t.”

In their early years, McCartney brought in ballads to their performances like ‘Till There Was You’. John felt discomfort during those moments, but he realized that these songs contributed to the band’s more varied approach than just rock ‘n roll. Besides, John – despite his tough image – secretly also loved the genres that they both got familiar with in their childhood, like folk, music hall, jazz and show-tunes.

It was the song ‘Please Please Me’ that really got the Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership going. At that point, it became a second revenue stream within the band just for the two of them. ‘Please Please Me’ was their first number one hit and was the final move towards the Lennon-McCartney songwriting explosion that would soon be unleashed.

The book goes on to describe many of the songs that followed, focusing on how John and Paul conceived them, delivered them, and why their combination of voices and sensibilities made the music so enduring. Leslie also teases out the hidden meanings some songs carried for each of them; messages they sometimes couldn’t say directly.

There were also differences in their approach to songwriting. John’s song ideas were often used as a creative platform to which the others could bring their brilliant contributions. Paul – the most accomplished musician and instrumental allrounder – tended to bring more fully fledged songs to the band with clear ideas of what he wanted.

In the first five albums, John was mostly the song originator of the band. Paul’s ‘Yesterday’ was an important moment in their relationship, argues Leslie. John always felt uncertain about it, perhaps because it showed that Paul was such a brilliant songwriter in his own right and that he could do without John. After the break-up, John wrote ‘Imagine’ and according to a collaborator at that time, John felt he had finally written a melody as good as ‘Yesterday’.

After the creative highlight that was ‘Sgt. Pepper’s’, the disintegration of the band started in John’s mind. During their time in India, John was depressed as evident by songs such as ‘I’m So Tired’ and ‘Yer Blues’. The Beatles had been his closest connection and had pulled him through the most difficult of times. Now, it was time to start anew.

Leslie covers the break-up and post-break-up years in great detail, showing how the songs of that period reflect what was going on in their minds. For example, John’s ‘Look At Me’ – which was written in India – is about John’s sense of identity hanging on by being seen by Paul, his creative partner. And if he is not being seen by Paul, who is he supposed to be?

After the break-up, their connection always remained strong and they always kept communicating through music. There were the famous songs at which they were having digs at each other (‘Too Many People’ and ‘How Do You Sleep?’). There was also the instance of John’s final live performance at a concert by Elton John. He chose three songs to perform and one of them was ‘I Saw Her Standing There’. Why did he choose this Paul-song? Because he was scared and needed to summon Paul to get him though, Leslie argues.

The book ends with John’s murder and Paul’s heartbreaking response. The bond was severed forever, yet Paul found a way to keep speaking to John – as always through music. His song ‘Here Today’ is a conversation with the friend, rival, and partner he could never replace.

Witness to the Mob (1998)

Directed by:
Thaddeus O’Sullivan

Written by:
Stanley Weiser

Cast:
Nicholas Turturro (Sammy ‘The Bull’ Gravano), Tom Sizemore (John Gotti), Debi Mazar (Deborah Gravano), Michael Imperioli (Louie Milito), Abe Vigoda (Paul Castellano), Frankie Valli (Frank LoCascio), Katherine Narducci (Linda Milito), Arthur J. Nascarella (Bruce Mouw), Frank Vincent (Frankie DeCicco), Vincent Pastore (Mikey De Bat)

Sammy ‘The Bull’ Gravano is remembered as one of the most notorious informants in mob history. He betrayed the Dapper Don, John Gotti – whom he believed had first betrayed him. Before making that fateful decision, the story flashes back nineteen years to his childhood in Brooklyn. There, he and his best pal Louie (Michael Imperioli) begin their careers in organized crime as part of the powerful Gambino family.

Gravano rises quickly through the ranks. His willingness to follow orders to the letter – and to kill without hesitation – earns him the respect of higher-ups. Before long, he’s made an official member by boss Paul Castellano himself.

Around the same time, John Gotti (Tom Sizemore) is on the rise as well. When Castellano begins to break the mob’s code of honor, Gravano and Gotti conspire to take him out and seize control. Gotti becomes boss, while Gravano becomes his second-in-command. But Gotti’s flashy lifestyle draws unwanted attention from the press, the public, and the FBI – setting the stage for a conflict that will bring everything crashing down.

This made-for-TV film was released just two years after HBO’s Gotti. Both screenplays are based on the real Gravano–Gotti saga, and the similarities are striking – not only in story but also in style. Several familiar faces from The Sopranos and Goodfellas (Tony Sirico, Frank Vincent, Vincent Pastore) appear in both films. The key difference is perspective: Witness to the Mob is told through Gravano’s eyes, while Gotti presents Gotti’s side of the story.

Still, there’s something about Witness to the Mob that doesn’t quite ring true. Despite the strong ensemble, the interactions don’t always feel believable. Nicholas Turturro (brother of John) lacks the presence and charisma needed to carry Gravano’s role, and most of the actors have delivered stronger mob performances elsewhere. That said, fans of mob movie clichés – the talk, the mannerisms, the hits – may still enjoy Witness to the Mob. It has plenty of all that, even if it never quite rises above the familiar.

Rating:

Quote:
JOHN GOTTI: “So the boss of bosses is dead?”
SAMMY GRAVANO: “He lived a long life. His maid is gonna miss him.”
JOHN GOTTI: “His wife won’t.”

Trivia:
Arthur J. Nascarella plays FBI special agent Bruce Mouw, who is in charge of breaking up the Gambino family. In The Sopranos, his character Carlo Gervasi eventually betrays mob boss Tony Soprano.

Gotti (1996)

Directed by:
Robert Harmon

Written by:
Jerry Capeci (book ‘The Last Gangster: Winning the War Against John Gotti and the Mob’)
Gene Mustain (book ‘The Last Gangster: Winning the War Against John Gotti and the Mob’)
Steve Shagan (teleplay)

Cast:
Armand Assante (John Gotti), William Forsythe (Sammy Gravano), Richard C. Sarafian (Paul Castellano), Frank Vincent (Robert DiBernardo), Anthony Quinn (Neil Dellacrose), Dominic Chianese (Joe Armone), Robert Miranda (Frank DeCicco), Scott Cohen (Gene Gotti), Vincent Pastore (Angelo Ruggiero), Tony Sirico (Joe Dimiglia)

John Gotti seemed destined for the Mafia. He was smart, tough, loyal to the code of omertà, never skimmed from the top, and respected the boss’s policy on narcotics. These qualities helped him rise to become boss of the infamous Gambino family in the 1980s. But Gotti also had his flaws: he craved media attention and was too careless about discussing sensitive business in unsecured settings.

Gotti is the biography of one of history’s best-known mobsters. The story begins in 1973, when Gotti first comes to the attention of his crime family, the Gambinos – then the most powerful of New York’s Five Families. Boss of bosses Carlo Gambino asks Gotti for a personal favor, which nearly goes wrong due to the interference from underboss Paul Castellano. The conflict almost dooms Gotti, but his mentor, second underboss Neil Dellacroce (Anthony Quinn), steps in to resolve it.

In the years that follow, Gotti steadily rises through the ranks alongside his close associate and fellow captain Sammy Gravano. When Gambino dies of old age in 1976, he names Castellano as his successor, to the disapproval of Gotti and other top figures. While Gotti was seen as a true man of Cosa Nostra, Castellano was regarded more as a businessman. Tensions eventually culminate in one of the most infamous gangland hits in history: the 1985 assassination of Castellano and his partner outside Sparks Steak House in Manhattan.

Now John Gotti is the boss. But, as noted earlier, his weaknesses ensured that his reign would be relatively short-lived (until 1992 to be precise). As a biographical made-for-tv HBO production, Gotti stands out for offering a complete look at the life and times of a legendary mobster. Armand Assante is memorable in the lead. The supporting cast – featuring many future Sopranos actors – is also strong, with Anthony Quinn and William Forsythe delivering standout performances. If you watch only one television production about the mob, make it Gotti .

Rating:

Quote:
JOHN GOTTI: “A Mexican, a Puerto-Rican and a black guy are sitting in a car. Who’s driving? The police.”

Trivia:
According to IMDb, this film was the highest rated original telefilm in HBO history at that time. The success of the film convinced HBO to cast film co-stars, Dominic Chianese, Vincent Pastore and Tony Sirico in a series in development at the time called The Sopranos (1999).

The Outfit (1973)

Nobody plays rougher than The Outfit…Except maybe Earl, Cody and Bett!

Directed by:
John Flynn

Written by:
Donald E. Westlake (novel ‘The Outfit’ as Richard Stark)
John Flynn (screenplay)

Cast:
Robert Duvall (Earl Macklin), Karen Black (Bett Harrow), Joe Don Baker (Jack Cody), Robert Ryan (Mailer), Timothy Carey (Jake Menner), Richard Jaeckel (Kimmie Cherney), Sheree North (Buck’s Wife), Felice Orlandi (Frank Orlandi), Marie Windsor (Madge Coyle), Jane Greer (Alma Macklin)

Forgotten, gritty ’70s crime flick loosely adapted from a novel by Richard Stark (a follow-up to ‘The Hunter’, the book that inspired Point Blank and Payback).

The novel’s central character, Parker – named Earl Macklin here for some reason – has a score to settle with the crime syndicate known as the Outfit. After they murder his brother in retaliation for a robbery the two pulled on one of their banks, Macklin decides they owe him payback.

True to Parker’s nature, he demands compensation in his own way: together with his buddy Jack Cody and girlfriend Bett Harrow, he begins hitting the Outfit’s operations one by one. In return they set a trap for him, but Macklin is not a man easily cornered. It ends in a memorable shootout in the mansion of the Outfit’s top boss.

The film is directed by John Flynn (Rolling Thunder), who also wrote the screenplay. Flynn was a fine, efficient, and sadly underrated filmmaker who specialized in lean, mean crime pictures. He’s a director admired by Quentin Tarantino – as Tarantino noted in ‘Cinema Speculation’, his book on ’70s cinema – and it’s easy to see why. The film is stylishly shot and Robert Duvall is great in the lead tough guy role.

That said, it misses the real hard-boiled coolness or cinematic innovation that made John Boorman’s Point Blank, which was again based on similar source material, such a memorable film.

Rating:

Quote:
EARL MACKLIN: “Now, the Outfit’s gonna pay me money for my trouble. I figure 250.000 to make things right. Tell your friends. That’s the bill: 250. I hit you until you pay me. What I take in between is extra.”

Trivia:
The Outfit (1973) (much like The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973) and other crime films of this period) has been included on many lists of lesser known films recommended by 21st century film analysts.