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Fisher's The Stranglers of Bombay is the satirical starting point, the death cult's sacrifice is halted because the ruby ring is missing, a fan sent it to Ringo Starr. (The titular tune plays on the black-and-white screen that is the villain's dartboard, "shocking," he declares.) The lads in London, "adoration hasn't gone to their head," they step into separate modest homes that fuse into a lavish mansion (Wurlitzer organ, sunken bedroom, soda dispensers, grass carpet). "Psst, Bea-atle!" Nefarious swami (Leo McKern) and high priestess (Eleanor Bron) on their trail, along with the megalomaniac scientist (Victor Spinetti) and his assistant (Roy Kinnear). Syringe and laser are their weapons, one shrinks Paul McCartney to Tom Thumb size while the other sputters and stalls, "made in America, you see." "You're Going to Lose That Girl" in the studio, "Ticket to Ride" in the Alps with piano amid snow and top hats on skis. Tons of red, as Godard would say, Ringo maintains a deadpan front until a bucket of paint dumped on his black suit brings him to tears. "Part three later that evening." Between Termite Terrace and Monty Python, Richard Lester's Dada jamboree. "The mystic East" bumbled by frenetic Brits, also a bit of Bondian spoof so George Harrison can ride on top of a pink car, cf. Russell's Billion Dollar Brain. "I Need You" on Salisbury Plain with Stonehenge in the distance, suddenly surrounded by tanks. The season ticket in the soup bowl, the Beethoven-loving tiger beneath the pub, "a fiendish thingy!" John Lennon's disguise at the airport is remarkably like his bearded, spectacled later self, the whole thing wraps on Caribbean shores. "We're risking our lives to preserve a useless member." Rafelson's Head dilates the kaleidoscope. Cinematography by David Watkin. With John Bluthal, Patrick Cargill, Warren Mitchell, and Alfie Bass.
--- Fernando F. Croce |