From the Sep 2 – Sep 8, 1999 issue

Film

Return of the Blue Meanies

The Newly Restored Yellow Submarine

by Steve Wiecking

WAY BACK IN 1968, when they were more famous than Jesus and could have lent their names for big bucks to peddle paper clips, the Beatles chose to restore harmony to Pepperland -- pursued by kinky boot beasts, mutant dogs, and best of all, deliciously wicked Blue Meanies. I don't think it's too cynical to suggest that Yellow Submarine was basically an excuse to package the Beatles in a different form (the Fab Four don't even provide their own character voices), but age and distance have mellowed its marketing dreams. Everything about the film (even, paradoxically, its subtle creepiness) has a genuine warmth about it, a sometimes cutting good nature that spills over into each vibrant image.

This newly restored head trip features candy-colored art design by Heinz Edelman so stunning to look at that even when the film lags, which is often, you won't care; the more you go inside, to paraphrase one of the tunes, the more there is to see. Edelman and director George Dunning send the film merrily down a hill of glistening pop-culture flowers, giddily rolling across everything from Magritte to Marilyn Monroe. There is no smug, late-century irony to dispel the joy; if ever there was a hallucinogen to insure you of a good trip, this is it.

The Beatles, here, are musical freedom fighters liberating an imprisoned people, and some of the film's great pleasure comes from the way it captures the playful exuberance and optimism of the biggest band on Earth (they actually appear in a live-action cameo at the end). Their songs, of course, remain the jewels they are; "All You Need Is Love" still shines with a purity and beguiling directness missing from most anything you're likely to hear today. You could quibble that there are a few too many numbers (including the addition of "Hey Bulldog," never-before-seen in the U.S.), but this is soaring, timeless music, dazzlingly illustrated. Yellow Submarine is a kaleidoscopic, gently irreverent memory of a time when a lot of people believed that music could save the world.