So, having nothing better to do on a Wednesday night, I cued up the old Netflix queue and decided to try out this film I had heard about but had never experienced: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Have. Left. The. Words. Me.
What an utterly bizarre mishmash. Covers that (with one definite, and one possible, exception) should never have been attempted. A rambling pseudo-plot that doesn’t make enough sense to be called surrealist.
I could go on and on. So, let’s just do a “WTF” list of the top weird things in this…this…I don’t even know what to call it…
- Peter Frampton‘s acting: When was he going to “come alive”?
- Barry Gibb‘s hair: That magnificent mane, that glorious coiffure; it needed its own acting credit. I haven’t seen a head of hair steal a movie like that since The DaVinci Code.
- Really, George Burns? Really? Had the “Oh, God!” money run out?
- Steve Martin channeling Boris Karloff for “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”. I can’t get it out of my head. Short of using a hammer. Oh the irony.
- Billy Preston raising the dead with laser beams. Laser beams! And they gave him a trumpet to do it? If he had used a keyboard, I could have bought that…
- You have singing robots with electronic voices and you don’t think to just have Pete Frampton “talk box” the part? Wasted opportunities…
- Okay…so the town everybody wants to save is Heartland, America. But all the good guys are British and the bad guys are American. Weird, huh?
- I totally don’t buy that the Bee Gees and Peter Frampton beat Aerosmith up. That just can’t happen in this universe.
- Okay, I admit it. At first I thought Donald Pleasence actually was Ringo Starr.
- What the hell ever happened to Lovely Rita, the Meter Maid? Huh? What has Mean Mr. Mustard done with her? Seriously–you manage to work in a guy named “Sunk” who dropped the ‘k’ to become the Sun King but you couldn’t work in a lousy traffic enforcement officer?
Because I don’t have any silver hammers laying around and I’ve punished myself enough.