review

★★★★★ Man on the Run, a documentary directed by Academy Award winner Morgan Neville, chronicles Paul McCartney’s post-Beatles solo career with previously unseen footage

Sir Paul McCartney gave director Morgan Neville a blank piece of paper and told him ‘no notes’ after watching documentary Man on the Run for the first time.

Ahead of it being unleashed to fans next week, The Beatles legend has found a few more words to describe the two-hour film calling it ‘madcap’, ’embarrassing’ at times and often ‘overwhelming’ to watch, “But I come out of it thinking, ‘Yeah I’m OK,” says Paul at a very special screening.

The room of family, friends and rock royalty certainly agree. Paul Weller, Noel Gallagher and Sharon Osbourne are among those turning out to the film’s UK debut on a rainy night in Soho. Actor Paul Mescal, who is playing the mop-topped musician at the peak of Beatles-mania in a brand new four part film release, is also in attendance at the Ham Yard hotel.

While Mescal could be seen to be doing his homework, this brand new documentary from Academy Award winner Neville focuses on Paul’s life as he navigates the demise of the Fab Four and the ascension of Wings in its wake.

So what do you do when you quit the biggest band the world has ever seen? If you’re Paul McCartney you start another one.

Paul admits his boundless enthusiasm has led him into trouble at times, but turning a group of musicians practising at a remote farmhouse into a credible 70s rock band makes a gripping plotline for this joyous documentary showcasing a fascinating upheaval in his life, alongside a great love of his life.

Much of the never before seen clips that tell Paul’s story in intimate and raw detail are are thanks to his late wife Linda.

‘Next to a presidential library, Paul McCartney has the best personal archives,’ Neville was told of his subject before they set to work. “It also helped that Paul married a photographer because Linda takes pictures of everything and there are so many home movies too,” the grateful filmmaker says at a Q+A following the screening. “I thought I lost it all,” Paul says. “You know this was the 60s and 70s, you’d have a lot of break ins, you didn’t really bother locking your door too much. Fans would come in and nick a load of stuff. It was how it was. I kind of automatically just thought it’s all gone, but the kids at my office were fantastic. They looked in every little storage unit and every little drawer and they found it all and logged it. There’s amazing stuff there.”

For Paul, the most special memories he sees on screen are the moments of him and late wife Linda together.

“Seeing me and Linda interacting is very special because you know she’s not here anymore. It’s me and Linda, the kids. The music. Me and John. These memories it’s like a life flashing in front of you. There are so many cool things. All the stuff with the kids and Linda is lovely to see. Obviously it’s emotional because she looks so beautiful. She’s so cool.”

Daughter Stella who is in the theatre gives an approving cheer from her seat. “So that comes over,” notes Paul. “You know and the kids aren’t little anymore and they have kids of their own now.”

Paul married New York photographer Linda in March 1969, in a quiet civil ceremony at Marylebone Register Office in London with Ringo Starr among a select group of guests. Less than a year later, after a decade together the four Beatles went their separate ways – which for Paul was straight to a remote 183 acre farm on the Kintyre Peninsula in Scotland.

Talking on camera, a now 83-year-old Paul says all he wanted to do after the Beatles finished was ‘grow up’. Months into setting up his young family into chaotic country living, the call to create music couldn’t be ignored even from his rural retreat.

First came debut album McCartney, followed up months later by 1971’s Ram as he formed a double act with Linda.

“What am I doing singing with Paul McCartney?” Linda asks in the early home footage, admitting she can’t sing and could play only one note on the keyboard. “It’s a start,” Paul replies.

Ram was released just as Paul launched legal action to dissolve the Beatles’ partnership. It was poorly received. Undeterred, Paul set about forming a larger group this time recruiting Denny Laine, a friend from his time in 60s rock group the Moody Blues to join him and Linda. The trio took on more members, naming themselves Wings as they recorded experimental new material and set off to play in the type of tiny venues that had become a distant memory for superstar Paul.

“We’d show up at universities, not bother to book hotels, just take the kids and dogs in a van and for some reason we thought that was a great idea,” says Paul.

But at the start the enthusiasm was not reciprocated. The band were initially received as a ‘dud’ from fans and critics, with even Paul’s collaborator Lennon mocking his music.

After an early mauling from the industry who had once revered him, it was a slow road to success before Wings’ live shows developed into must-see tours and they produced some of the biggest selling singles and albums of the decade, including number one hit Mull Of Kintyre, Jet, Silly Love Songs and Live And Let Die, the theme to the 1973 James Bond film of the same title.

Paul said Linda’s responses to his boundless energy continues to inspire him today. “Anything crazy I would say, ‘Should I do that? Could I do that?’ And she’d say ‘Yeah, it’s allowed!’ It’s a great philosophy to have.”

The film is not just a family portrait, but also an insight into Paul’s complicated relationship with Lennon. Paul admits he felt he was punished most for the demise of the band and even bought into the blame himself.

“I thought that’s the kind of bastard I am, it leaves you in this kind of no man’s land, but the truth, John had come in one day and said he was leaving The Beatles, he said, ‘it’s kind of exciting, it’s like telling someone you want a divorce’.”

The film also sees Paul reflect on John’s ‘diss track’ about him following their break-up, How Do You Sleep?, which featured on 1971’s Imagine album with the Plastic Ono Band.

“The only thing you did was Yesterday (one of the song’s lyrics), was apparently (former Beatles manager) Allen Klein’s suggestion, but (at) the back of my mind I was thinking, ‘but all I ever did was Yesterday, Let It Be, The Long And Winding Road, Eleanor Rigby, Lady Madonna, f*** you, John,” says Paul. “How do I sleep at night? Well, actually, quite well, but you’ve got to remember, I’d known John since he was a teenager, and that’s kind of what I loved about John. He’s a crazy son of a bitch, he’s a lovely, lovely, crazy guy.”

Paul says one of his ‘greatest blessings’ is that he got to reconcile with John before his death in December 1980. Their children recall the last meeting of the two families in John’s New York City apartment, as ‘one big reunion’.

Stella and sister Mary also recall hearing the fateful moment Paul got the call that his best friend was gone. Stella says she heard a wave of commotion before seeing her dad rush out of their home and out onto the farm alone. The famous ‘Drag, isn’t it?’ clip of Paul reacting publicly to John’s death is shown in the film with Sean Ono Lennon defending the response as coming from a place of pure shock and grief, far from the Paul he recognised.

Reflecting on the period of life captured in the archive film, photo and audio recordings, Paul says: “It’s a heck of a story. It would be nice if people took away the fact that in my craziness and my enthusiasm, we stuck with it and we made it work. There’s something brave about that. It didn’t have to work out, you know, but it did.”

Giving their verdict immediately after the London premiere are two men who know exactly what it’s like to launch a solo career in the shadow of an iconic British band. Noel Gallagher and Paul Weller spoke to the Mirror following the screening. Weller hailed the movie as ‘fantastic.’ “It’s great to see that period of time ,the early 70s again, on screen like that.” Lifelong Beatles fan Gallagher called the project ‘amazing’ as the theatre lights came up.

Sharon Osbourne, who also posed for photos with Paul ahead of the screening, said she could see a movie of late husband Ozzy’s life being depicted on screen one day and was moved to tears by the film at several points. “It was incredible… very emotional. Especially the family moments with Linda. It was beautiful.”

*Paul McCartney Man On The Run airs on Prime Video on February 27*

“How to Make a Killing” boasts an opening so strong that it buys enough audience goodwill to coast through nearly its entire running time. That’s priceless in a screwball murder movie in which everyone’s soul is for sale.

Death row inmate Becket Redfellow (Glen Powell) is four hours away from execution. A priest (Sean C. Michael) solemnly arrives to take his final confession and finds the condemned man lounging in a sleeping eye mask, griping that his last meal served him the wrong flavor of cheesecake. “Kill me now,” Becket quips.

This will be a tale of crime and punishment told in flashback, rewinding to Becket’s mother, an heiress excised from an eleven-figure fortune for giving birth as an unwed teenager. And it will be, as Becket insists, “a tragedy.”

But while the story’s framework is familiar, what gives this intro sequence zip is Powell’s sly nonchalance, the little bounce he makes on his cot when Becket pivots to give the flabbergasted priest his full attention. He has ours, too. Powell has yet to find his perfect role (this one’s close) but his confidence is why the industry is convinced that he’s the reincarnation of a classic leading man: Tom Cruise or Cary Grant if we’re lucky, or at least Bugs Bunny.

Writer-director John Patton Ford’s morally bleak comedy is itself a reincarnation of the 1949 British caper “Kind Hearts and Coronets,” which egged on an exiled sire as he avenges himself upon his royal family by murdering everyone between himself and dukedom. The 21st century American privilege that Becket is chasing in the remake doesn’t rely on formal titles. He wants cold hard cash, plus a couple of private islands, planes and ultra-luxury yachts. Besides, he’s already got a first name that sounds like a last name, signifying the American upper crust.

This Dickensian vengeance setup gives us an awful lot of people to murder, all caricatures of the elite. The original “Coronets” offed a posh feminist who scattered political leaflets across London from a hot air balloon, Ford spins that passé joke into a gag where Becket’s spoiled cousin (Raff Law) hovers in a helicopter sprinkling money over a pool party and then for good measure, cannonballs into the water to stuff bills in the crowd’s open and appreciative mouths. (For his next trick, perhaps Ford will remake Terry Southern’s outlandish satire “The Magic Christian,” which has a scene like that but five times filthier.)

Lore goes that when Alec Guinness received the “Coronets” script with an offer to play four of the ill-fated tycoons, he wrote back greedily and said, “Why not eight?” To our good fortune, Guinness did play all eight, even the suffragette. “How to Make a Killing” shares the wealth, giving cameos to a very funny Zach Woods as the scion who fancies himself a hipster artist (he takes photos of the unhoused) and Topher Grace as the Redfellow who found faith or, rather, a more sanctimonious spin on grift as a megachurch pastor. Likening himself to Jesus, Grace’s bleached blond huffs, “Don’t hate on me just because my dad’s a big deal.”

There’s a tease of real-world critique in how the preacher has decorated his office with framed photos of himself with various presidents and drug-runners, alluding to the inescapable suspicion that the world is run by a powerful club whose only admissions requirement is a bank balance with plenty of zeros. The jabs stop at allusions — they’re entertaining but as thin as a communion wafer. Still, I guffawed when Becket popped back into his present-day cell to poke fun at his audience, the Catholic priest: “The last thing the Church wanted was an investigation,” he says with a smirk. “I’m sure you know all about that.”

Like his lead character, Ford himself had to ascend in clout to direct this script, which he launched on the Black List in 2014. He instead made his debut with the much-smaller 2022 indie “Emily the Criminal,” which starred Aubrey Plaza as an art student desperate to pay off her student loans. His heart is with the strivers who find that our K-shaped economy makes it impossible to go straight.

Yet he hasn’t cracked whether the corpses in “How to Make a Killing” are victims themselves. The rich Redfellows get dispatched one by one in scenes that are fun but empty — neither cathartic nor comic, simply boxes to be checked off to great big poundings of thunder and harpsichords.

Surely, I thought, the film will figure out how it feels by the time it offs a Redfellow who’s merely ordinary-terrible: Bill Camp’s drunken, cowardly banker. But it doesn’t and the real victim of the indecision is Powell, who is rarely given a reaction to play. (Guilt? Rage? Glee?) He needs to give us an extra hint how he’s feeling — as an actor, Powell is so slick that even his regular smile comes across phony. I’d say he couldn’t be sincere if he tried, except Powell actually does try for one scene and the bleary, terrified look in his eyes is devastating.

While the promise of that gangbusters opening sequence goes a tad unfulfilled, “Killing” has two strong twists and plenty of reasons to enjoy the romp. I suspect that the movie might be too smart for its own good, or perhaps hemmed in by a cynicism that, everywhere we look lately, it appears that crime does pay. As Becket says early on, “We’re all adults here.” Ford sees all the wrong moves and isn’t sure-footed in choosing the right one, even though I think he has. Today’s crowd wants to smash Marie Antoinette’s cake and eat it, too.

At least along the way, there’s a playful love triangle between Julia (Margaret Qualley), the privileged nightmare who’s had Becket wrapped around her pinky finger since grade school, and Ruth (Jessica Henwick), a humble school teacher. Both characters stake out their polarized corners — the rich bitch versus the sweetheart — with Qualley somehow always arranging her legs to be seductively horizontal in her too-few scenes. Henwick is saddled with the more prosaic role and dialogue (“It’s scary to dream small,” she says). Nevertheless, her presence is so compelling that we root for Ruth every time she’s onscreen.

I’m glad that Ford is part of today’s guillotine crew making capers about economic inequality. But the best shot in the movie shows his promise as a romantic comedian: Becket and Ruth bump into each other in the rain and just as they make eye contact, the sun comes out and they share a smile. It’s a tiny moment of magic that gives you hope that these young lovers can work it out. Better still, it even gives you hope for humanity, even if the movie’s overall forecast for society is stormy.