Richard Curtis is the reason why we can’t have nice things

Don’t get me wrong, the man has some serious talent and a long and distinguished CV to back it up. But he also possesses the rare and maddening ability to skew and contort any story he writes into this weird, cosy middle England wonderland that

1. Does not Exist. (Notting Hill)

And

2. Is not somewhere any of us would want to live in anyway. (Love Actually)

The most abhorrent of his transgressions though, occurred with the movie Yesterday. The 2019 release, inexplicably directed by the otherwise brilliant and dependable Danny Boyle, works on a highly imaginative and stunningly simple premise – what if we lived in a world were no one remembered the existence of the Beatles?

I will forgo a rundown of the basic plot points for now, and pivot instead towards the backstory that brought this clever and exciting idea into existence in the first place. Jack Barth is a veteran screenwriter. He is also someone who spent the majority of his thirty year long career in total obscurity. Toiling and dreaming and going from mediocre job to job, making ends meet, hoping and praying that his big break was still out there and waiting around the corner. As time passed by, Jack got to thinking – maybe it’s just not meant to be for me. Moving on a step further, Jack conjured up the idea of a world where everyone – bar one untalented singer songwriter – forgot about the existence and extensive back catalogue of the Beatles. In his original screenplay, Jack explored the notion that this singer songwriter is able to pass off the work of Lennon, McCartney and Harrison as his own. Two hundred odd certified classics in his armoury, and even still, he fails to gain traction or make any ground in his career with this golden songbook.

Now that is a movie I want to see!

The tragic but beautiful notion that – for some people – even a winning lottery ticket is no guarantee of wealth, success and happiness.

ENTER RICHARD CURTIS.

Jack Barth sold his script. He made bank and achieved the success (relatively speaking) that he had worked so long and hard for. But, in the course of this journey, the once in a lifetime, most wonderful idea he had brought into the world, was co-opted and CURTIS-ISED (you see what I did there??😂) and executed as the most bland and uninspiring of romantic comedies.

Seriously – it breaks my heart a little every time.

In Curtis world, Jack Malik (played by the game and utterly charming Himesh Patel) is a crap and permanently maudlin singer songwriter. Managed and driven around by his childhood friend Ellie (played by the delightful Lily Collins, who is comically frumped up and landed with thick, goggle glasses, in a laughable attempt to hide the fact that she is indescribably beautiful), Jack suffers through a road accident and realises that no one remembers the existence of the Beatles – apart from him. He proceeds to plunder their wide and extensive songbook and becomes a whirlwind of a global sensation. Wealth and superstardom beckon. But Jack realises, it is Ellie he really wants. And so, in inimitable Curtis style, Jack turns his back on fame and fortune (at Wembley Stadium, of course!), tells the truth about John, Paul, George and Ringo, and returns to leafy and pleasant Suffolk to be with the apparently frumpy girl he so deeply loves.

I mean…

JESUS

H

CHRIST

If you can think of a more mundane and underwhelming cannibalisation of Jack Barth’s brilliant and original premise, please send me an email or post about your thoughts in the comments section below.

Let me put out the narrative choices on offer to us in broad and simple terms.

Crap musician has the entire Beatles back catalogue to play and present as his own and still can’t get arrested. Leading him to realise and accept the fact that – some guys ain’t born to win.

Crap musician has the entire Beatles back catalogue to play and present as his own and becomes world famous in weeks – only to give it all up for a girl who has clearly been in love with him the whole time, for twenty goddam years without him making a move.

When you think about it in those terms, Julia Roberts crushing on Hugh Grant in Notting Hill seems like a scene from a Ken Loach, Mike Leigh or Shane Meadows movie in comparison. Now, as I have stated many times before, this whole movie game is entirely a subjective business. One person’s gold, is another fella’s garbage. I fully accept that I may be alone in my quietly simmering beef with Messers Curtis. But for the love of me, as a storyteller, it breaks my heart in two whenever the more interesting and thought provoking idea is rejected or discarded in favour of the cosy and homogenised big studio / opening weekend friendly release solve.

In the unique and particular case of Yesterday – it feels as though a once in a lifetime opportunity to tell a very funny but deeply sad, true and impactful story was thrown away to wither and die at the altar of that posh fella who wrote that Four Weddings, Notting Hill, Love Actually garbage.

In closing, I will say only this.

Richard?

In future, if you want to break your own toys, that’s your prerogative.

But for the love of John, Paul, George and Ringo, can you leave the rest of us alone???