By Tony Sokol
Scottish director Kevin Macdonald’s “One to One: John & Yoko” details the times and aborted tour which led to the Willowbrook State School benefit concerts John Lennon and Yoko Ono performed with the Plastic Ono Elephant’s Memory Band at Madison Square Garden on Aug. 30, 1972. The show itself is secondary. Neither of the two concerts, afternoon and evening, are shown in full, and no mention is made of the supporting acts. Besides a short set at the Toronto Peace Festival in 1969, the One to One Concert was the first full-length concert Lennon played since the Beatles’ 1966 Candlestick Park show.
For the feature-length documentary, the performance is the ultimate destination of a late inspiration. During an intermittent series of protest performances in search of a movement to launch a proper Free the People tour in America, Ono discovers the story of the Staten Island asylum televised on Geraldo Rivera’s exposé. Lennon had been moving in a more radical direction, looking to directly challenge the U.S. prison system while continuing to be a thorn in the side of Richard M. Nixon’s reelection plans. The Willowbrook School presented a problem which could be solved with pure idealistic effort. Macdonald allows the time-constrained immediacy of the two artists’ commitment to an immediate solution to breathe relevancy into the present.
“One to One: John & Yoko” is artfully edited by Sam Rice-Edwards, who keeps the archives fluid amidst repeated channel surfs through early 1970s American television. The kind of television that turned The Beatles into overnight sensations after two performances on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” When Lennon was asked about his “bigger than Jesus” comments in 1966, he told interviewers it would have meant the same if he used the word “television” instead of “Beatle.” TV has that kind of power, but Lennon wanted a show which is powered by the people. The documentary delivers, but flips the dials.
Recurring montages pause over coverage of protests against Nixon; investigations into the Watergate scandal; and the return from exile of Charlie Chaplin amid locally relevant news like the Attica prison riot; the execution of Mafia upstart Joe Gallo, and Brooklyn bank robber John “Sonny” Wojtowicz, while dialing past commercials, episodes of “The Waltons,” and a contentious snippet of Jerry Rubin on “Phil Donahue.” The selections provide cultural counterpart to the counterculture’s unsteady beat.
Archival footage shows Lennon and Ono appearing on multiple American talk shows at the time, among them a week-long appearance co-hosting “The Mike Douglas Show.” Lennon doesn’t only come across as approachable, but more often than not, inviting, and his curiosity limitless. Lennon shows up on sets and rallies unguarded. Without calling overt attention, a parallel narrative culminates in the attempted assassination of Alabama governor George Wallace. A particularly satisfying moment comes when the channel-surfing catches U.S. Congresswoman and presidential candidate Shirley Chisholm suppress a grin after visiting the stricken polarizing politician.
The documentary’s focus is defined by a specific time frame. It begins with John and Yoko’s August 1971 escape from Britain’s harsh press to 105 Bank Street in New York City’s Greenwich Village, moves through the John Sinclair Freedom Rally to a burgeoning Free the People Tour, which detours to the benefit at Madison Square Garden. Lennon and Ono took on rock star personas of Woodward and Bernstein. Lennon called himself a rock and roll journalist, and his impatience lay with his ambitions. The era in John and Yoko’s journey a continuing one, evolving and improvising. Subliminal flashes of earlier footage fill in the historic gaps, but mainly for those who can make the connections. It takes a knowledge of history to appreciate the subtlest of footnotes.
The documentary finds a treasure trove of personal phone calls made by Lennon and Ono while planning the tour, curtesy of the paranoid Nixon administration, which plots to deport the radical rock star causing so much trouble. Outside threats infiltrate the optimistic planners. Previously unheard phone conversations, recorded by Lennon in the event defense required proof, are introduced in the discovery of FBI surveillance. If Nixon’s henchmen are recording taps, Lennon figures he should have his own copies, just in case he needs them. The phone conversations also provide brief but illuminating snatches of tour planning. With scratchy transcripts running against a black background, negotiations repeatedly provide evidence Lennon continues to push limits one step over any line. This kind of commitment let to some of The Beatles’ greatest innovations. Lennon’s commitment to political movement was a major contributor to the band’s breakup. Lennon always brought immediacy to his work, writing songs under tight deadlines for Beatles’ releases.
“One to One” is extremely revelatory in unexpected ways. The planned Free the People Tour was far more radical, and yet more practical, than we’ve been led to believe. A conversation between Lennon and Allen Klein about the penal system shows a far-reaching vision for the ex-Beatle. Lennon’s insistence on including the song “Attica State” at The Free John Sinclair Freedom Rally is actually met with resistance by the New York lawyer acting as musical manager. The aftermath of the rally’s success affords Lennon the opportunity to solidify the overall theme of continued performance and prisoner release. In each town the Rock Liberation Front plays, money will go directly to the bondsmen to post bail for those who can’t afford it. The film appears to show the seeming practicality of the former Beatle’s plan.
The self-surveillance also captures Bob Dylan’s personal garbologist, activist A.J. Weberman, getting tamed by Ono. She concedes the point Dylan could be seen as a multimillionaire hypocrite, but insists if the new superstar singer-songwriter performs at the “Free the People” concert in Miami, it will be a step towards the folk legend reclaiming his revolutionary leadership. This is before the rally changed course. Lennon’s ultimate demurral to perform at the protest against the Republican Convention in Miami is an example of one consistent tenet of his political stand. When The Beatle’s “Revolution” was blasted by the revolutionary voices of 1968 because Lennon sang “out and in” to violence, Lennon said he was ambivalent because he hadn’t decided. His mind was made up by “Give Peace a Chance,” and the growing call for violent confrontation at the Miami convention does not fit with Lennon’s mission statement: “Free all prisoners, everywhere.”
The documentary keeps a laser focus on John and Yoko. I wish about five minutes could have covered the other artists who played the Free Sinclair Rally and the One to One concerts. All we see is Stevie Wonder, Melanie, and some of Shanana urging the audience to “Give Peace a Chance.” There should be a few nods to the musical circle beyond Jim Keltner.
In spite of arguments to the contrary, John Lennon and Yoko Ono warrant additional documentations of their careers and influence. Changing political landscapes provide opportunities for deep, long-form, journalism aimed to deify the artists’ progressive achievements or demonize their human rights accomplishments. “One to One: John & Yoko,” which opens on iMAX on April 11, lets music speak truth to power, and redistributes the power to the people.
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