Back in 2001, I saw the film with my two brothers and my dad (as far as my memory is concerned). We saw it at the legendary Music Box Theatre in Chicago, a wonderland for anyone even remotely invested in cinema. When I walked into the theatre, I was immediately captivated by the artificial night sky on the ceiling, with those pin hole lights replicating the stars. It was truly an awe-inspiring place. Then the movie started. I was already enamored with where I was, but I would be even more with where I was going. I was about to take a life changing trip to Pepper Land. The theatre melted away and it was just me and the movie.
It’s a memory I have cherished for almost two decades: the final scene of Yellow Submarine has the Beatles and the Blue Meanie on a vibrant hillside backlit by a psychedelic sun as “It’s All Too Much” plays. It was that exact moment that I fell in love with movies. I wouldn’t know until a while down the road, but it would also inspire me to pursue a career in film as well.
As time went on, the lyrics in particular began to have a greater effect on me. I am constantly struck by the lyric “Makes no difference where you are or where you’re meant to be”. Sometimes I read it (and the song as a whole) as realizing that finding a place is not the point in life, but rather experiencing the emotions and relationships you make. Other times, it’s a futile statement, meaning that it’s pointless to find comfort in a place because life in general is so overwhelming.
Moving from Chicago in 2003, living in rural New York, going to college near New York City and finally moving to Boston recently, I’ve never quite felt at home anywhere. I’ve loved where I’ve lived, but never felt that total sense of home and this song really speaks to that.
So why did it take me almost 20 years to come back to the movie that literally started it all? Thinking about it these last few days, I think it was this specific memory and the fear of possibly tainting it. As time went on, this memory became increasingly more evocative, so the idea of seeing this scene again and it not living up to the incredibly potent impression it left on me was kind of terrifying.
There was never a right time to revisit it, either. Never did I feel the urge to watch it again. And if I were to ever see it before the “right time,” I would run the risk of tarnishing the memory forever.
Yet when I found out that there would be a limited re-release of the film in celebration of its 50th anniversary, I couldn’t have been more excited! This was finally the time to rewatch it, on the big screen in the comfort of my local independent theatre.
I’ve only been in the Boston area for little over a week now, so there was an immediate comfort knowing I would be seeing Yellow Submarine; the most intensely personal film in a new foreign land. Being alone in a new place is a crippling feeling, so the fact that I could find comfort in something that has come to represent home and purpose put me at ease.
I wouldn’t be seeing it with my family, nor would I see it in Chicago, a city that since I moved from in 2003, has straddled the line between familiar and foreign. The theatre in Boston would never match the splendor of Music Box (very few can), but it was the movie that truly mattered.
There was very little of the movie that I remembered, or so I thought. As it progressed I found myself recalling more and more moments, from the bleak Liverpool “Eleanor Rigby” scene to the Sea of Monsters. But I was watching it with new eyes. So many of these images were remembered from the perspective of a 5 year old child, but now were seen through the lens of a (relatively) fledged adult, with new ways of interpreting and experiencing the phantasmagoric images before me. It was a blast. The fact that there’s hardly a story in the film works in its favor; it let me experience the otherworldly visuals unburdened. In some ways, I did feel like I was back at the Music Box, mouth agape and having my mind (re)blown.
Then that guitar feedback kicked in and "It's All Too Much" started. The film cuts to the song sharply, and began to inundate me with layer after layer of beautiful, surreal imagery. I should’ve known better (can’t help myself) that watching the scene after all this time would never match the initial reaction. But there were goosebumps aplenty and seeing it again was a true pleasure, one rarely found despite having watched thousands of films in my lifetime. It was a transcendent kind of feeling too, seeing images that have taken on such a larger meaning. Initially representing my youth and innocence, now coupled with my knowledge of where I’ve been since then.
Finally seeing not just this scene but the whole movie was an intensely personal reminder that I can always find comfort and purpose in the images I watch. I can go to a movie theatre, sit down and experience something that can affect me in ways previously unknown. It can unlock new ideas, new feelings and new relationships.
I don’t know when I’ll see Yellow Submarine again. It may be another 17 years from now. (Me at 39?! I can’t even begin to imagine.) It may be shorter, may be longer. I’ll know somewhere down the line when the time is right. But with each viewing, the memory and idea of what Yellow Submarine means to me will continue to evolve. It’s a beautiful thought, although even thinking about that is too much.