At a smoky club, the band plays "When the Saints Go Marching In," and Stu is macking on a girl in the audience. They wink at each other and blow kisses. Problem: Her boyfriend doesn't appreciate the discourtesy and gets particularly agitated when Stu makes fun of his protests. Much glaring ensues. Oh, gee, I hope there isn't a fight.
Outside the club, there's a fight. When Stu is loading the van, he's ambushed by the thug and two pals, who proceed to beat the crap out of him. John joins the fray, and the others trot out and feebly say, "Stop that," which somehow is enough to make the three enormous men run away in fear. Makes sense. The last time I was a 250-pound man, I squealed and fled when a handful of skinny-ass singers accosted me. Stu refuses to go to the hospital, because he's really only losing several liters of blood. See, it's just a flesh wound.
We jump to a conversation with Mimi, so apparently the lads have returned from Scotland. I can only assume Scotland wasn't so free and easy with the "unprecedented access." Scotland's no whore. If you want to feel up Scotland, you'd bloody well better be prepared to settle down with it and have kids. John expositions that The Beatles are going to Hamburg, Germany, and that he's quitting school to focus on the band. Mimi begs him to get a real job, but he insists that what he's doing does constitute legitimate income. "I regret the day I let that guitar into this house," Mimi bellows. "Mark my words, John Lennon, that guitar will be your downfall yet!" Foreshadowing crawls out from under the couch, where it had been eating the carpet from sheer boredom, just to remind me that it's alive and well and spitting on my television.
This movie is terrible. Someone got wind of a great chance to use real-life sets, and wrote a shoddy movie around it. There are other ways to do justice to Lennon's memory. Like, say, a nice flower arrangement.
Half the viewers -- say, thirty -- realize that it's time for The Practice. It's a rerun, but they don't care. They're desperate people. Desperate to flee this carnage.
While Cynthia reads a letter from John, his voice-over tells us what it says. Cynthia took John's hair suggestion too seriously. When he told her to lighten it, she dunked her head in bright yellow paint -- and then actually darkened her brows. She's a walking Yield sign. Lennon uses the words "eight days a week," which is a shameless wink from the screenwriter. Basically, The Beatles are playing lots of gigs and living in squalor. They smoke. They drink. They swear. Suddenly, Pete Best is in the picture so that Paul can play guitar. All we get is that he's "a good bloke," because his isn't his life story, so who cares anyway. John also found a pal in Rich Starkey, a fun-loving drummer who's changing his name to Ringo Starr. Isn't it nice how all the key players just appeared out of nowhere?