How a New Doc Changes Everything You Know About John Lennon & Yoko Ono

In 1972, ABC aired an exposé on the Willowbrook State School in Staten Island, New York, which had been accused of abusing and neglecting its intellectually challenged wards. A young, hungry investigative reporter named Geraldo Rivera took a camera crew inside the institution, and gave the country a firsthand look at the appalling conditions the underage patients were forced to endure. Thousands upon thousands of viewers reacted with shock, anger and demands for Willowbrook to close its doors forever. Two of them, sitting in a cluttered apartment in Greenwich Village, decided to put on two benefit concerts to help these children out.

The resulting double-shot of Madison Square Garden shows that took place August 30th, 1972 — organized by and featuring recent NYC émigrés John Lennon and Yoko Ono — have become legendary for being the last full live shows that the former Beatle would perform. When ABC broadcast the concert, however, the reaction was mixed; Live in New York City, the 1986 album and video release of the event, did little to burnish its reputation. But Sean Lennon had long wanted to remaster the recordings, knowing that these shows played a huge part in the legacy of his parents. It was also a pivot point in Lennon and Ono’s relationship to both the city they now called home and the political radicalization they’d experienced since moving to downtown New York the previous year. The concert deserved a second chance. And the context leading up to that night in the summer of ’72 deserved a much deeper look.

Named after the benefit shows, One to One: John & Yoko focuses on the couple’s first few years in NYC, when they moved into a small, one-bedroom apartment at 105 Bank Street, befriended activists such as Jerry Ruben and John Sinclair, spent a lot of time watching TV, and begin figuring out how to live a post-Beatles life. (It opens in a special IMAX run this weekend, before going wide on April 18th.) Directed by Oscar-winner Kevin Macdonald — who’s also made docs on Bob Marley and Whitney Houston — it utilizes a huge amount of their home movies, personal phone recordings (which a justifiably paranoid Lennon taped because he believed he was being surveilled by the FBI) and a lot of largely unseen archival footage. Macdonald also painstakingly recreated the couple’s Greenwich Village flat, down to the debris strewn out on the floor. If you’ve ever wanted to hang out in a bohemian crash pad in the early ’70s, or listen in on Lennon arguing with manager Allen Klein about an Attica benefit or the couple’s assistant May Pang negotiate with a fly wrangler for Yoko’s art exhibits, you’ll feel like you’ve gone to Plastic Ono Heaven.

Yet the idea, the director says, was not to simply add to the already overflowing Beatles Nonfiction Industrial Complex so much as shed light as what he believes is one of the most crucial, transformative periods of John and Yoko’s life together. “Why not try to give someone a look back that’s more experiential,” he said, “and let them see what life was like for this couple, in this city, at this time?”

Over the course of two conversations — one at the Sundance Film Festival in January, where One to One played in the fest’s “Spotlight” section, and one in Los Angeles in February — Macdonald opened up about why he was initially reluctant to make the movie, how they managed to reconstruct Lennon and Ono’s apartment, the idea that this project is as much about the present as it is the past, and why it helped him see both of these iconic figures in a whole new light. The interviews have been edited for length and clarity.

You were approached by Mercury Studios with the idea of just doing a concert film, right?
I was actually approached by Peter Worsley, who’s the producer who had spent a long time getting the rights to use the concert. Mercury were already attached at that time.

Were they in the process of remastering the audio at that point?
Basically, the order of things is that Sean Lennon wanted to remaster the audio [of the “One to One” concert], which was terribly recorded. I don’t know if you’ve seen any of clips of what was originally broadcast; there are a few on YouTube from the videotape release of the show they did in 1986. It was never given a proper re-release or whatever, because the quality wasn’t great and I think the family felt like it wasn’t a fair representation of John. So only in the last few years did they think that, with the current technology and the incredible advances in digital remixing, that they could isolate the different tracks sufficiently enough to do a proper remix of it. My understanding is that he was in the process of remixing the show, and Peter and Mercury said, “Oh, we should make a film to put this in its context.”

So like a concert film with benefits?
Something like that. When they came to me, they asked: Do you want to do a film about this concert? And I looked at the original footage, and thought, No, this looks and sounds terrible. It wasn’t until they took me to where it was being remixed, and I heard what they were able to do with it, that I was like, Wow. Okay. There’s something here.

I was nervous about making another John Lennon or Beatles film, to be honest. I was 13 when Lennon died, and I grew up obsessed with him. Admittedly, there was part of me that thought, “Oh, it’s my childhood dream, to make a film about John Lennon.” But how do you do something different? There’s just been so much said and done. And then I thought, why not try to give the audience something that isn’t just, “Here are the facts, laid out in front of you. Here are more of the people you’ve seen a million times, if you’re a Lennon fan, talking about these things. Enjoy!” Why not try to give someone a look back that’s bit more experiential, and let them see what life was like for this couple, in this city, at this time?

The 18 months that you’re concentrating on is really fertile ground, because no one has really dug into that period this intensely before, have they?
It happens to be very fertile if you’re taking the approach that we’ve taken, yeah. When you look at the home movies, the photos, the shards of their shared life that are left behind in the attic — this is the period you want to do it in. Because they had their own cameras. They had their own film crews who often went with them when they were out at protests, or they’re doing the exhibitions. They recorded their phone calls. So this is probably the only period in his life, I think, where there’s enough material that you could pull this approach off.

It fills in the gaps of the traditional narrative, which always felt like: “John and Yoko came to New York. There was a lost weekend. He came back. And then they moved into Dakota, John started baking bread…”
“And then he was murdered.” Which leaves a lot of vital stuff out! That’s what I found so interesting. The more you dig into this period, the more you understand just how transformative this period was for both of them, but especially for John. This is when he’s going from being the guy who was a Beatle and is being hounded to death, and whose wife’s is being unfairly blamed for breaking up this band, to being the peacenik John Lennon of the 1970s. This is when he’s trying to figure out: Who am I? How do I reinvent myself? How should I use my power? How should I be relating to Yoko, and women and feminism in general? And because we had access to this great material, it feels intimate in a way that’s unique. I don’t think the world’s biggest Beatles fans will learn loads of new stuff. I just want them to feel like they’ve hung out with John and Yoko.

How much about this period of John and Yoko’s life did you know going in, or was this a pretty steep learning curve?
It was a steep learning curve because, finally, because… I was a big fan, but, for instance, I did not know about Kyoko [Ono Cox, Yoko’s daughter]. How is it possible that I’ve read so many books on Lennon, and I did not know this? I’ve been amazed how many real big, nerdy fans didn’t seem to know about her and the struggle John and Yoko went through in relation to her, either. It’s such a defining thing in their lives. It’s one of the main reasons they’ve really come to America — to look for her. They know that she’s been kidnapped by Yoko’s ex-husband. They’re sending out private detectives. And most importantly, it makes you understand Yoko a lot better. This is a woman who’s actually mourning for the loss of her child, and who, in that beautiful song at the end —

The “Age 39” song … [“Looking Over From My Hotel Window,” from Ono’s 1973 album Approximately Infinite Universe]
— She’s s talking about being heartbroken by losing a child, and she’s asking the question, “Am I a bad mother? Was it right that she was taken away from me?” And that makes me care for Yoko and see her in a light that I hadn’t considered before, you know?

In the film, the moment where you highlight that song comes right after you’ve shown Lennon performing “Mother.” It’s almost like the two songs are in conversation with each other.
Well, I think you could argue that the theme of this film — or one of the themes, in my opinion — is about children and unhappy childhoods. Lennon has always talked about the fact that his mother was killed had left him with a chip on shoulder, and it’s probably the thing that drove him to be who he is. Not to mention the difficult character that we know he could be! And Yoko is searching for the child she’s lost. So when they both see the Willowbrook footage, and they see those children in pain, that’s why I think that they have this huge outpouring of empathy for them.

I think Yoko specifically says, when they’re asked why they’re doing this benefit concert for Willowbrook, “As a mother…”
Yes! And that’s why it seemed appropriate to end it with Sean’s birth at the end. Because it’s kind of like, it’s this moment of completion, in a way. They are ready to devote this energy to being a family. I also find the Willowbrook story is just so incredible. I think some people know about the news report that exposed the conditions there, and Lennon fans know about the concert, but I don’t know that the connection between the two is well-known.

I’m just curious, because Lennon’s “Lost Weekend” has become such a massive part of his history, and feels like a key part of John & Yoko’s story as a couple, why there’s no mention of it at all here, even though you end on their reconciliation and Sean’s birth?
Well, to be honest, it’s less about not wanting to get into that split and more about the structure of the film. Which was: They move into that apartment, they move out of that apartment. I deliberately felt like, I’m not going to bring in stuff from earlier and I’m not going to bring in stuff from later. This is their life in New York; I’m not going to do an extra chapter on him in Los Angeles. I was restricting myself formally. I’m not interviewing anyone. Other than the montages that represent what John and Yoko were watching on TV during that period, I’m not bringing in outside material. It was really, what does this archive tell us about their lives during this concentrated period?

It was also about the recordings and footage I was working with as well. If I had had phone calls of her yelling at him and whatever, I would have put it in. If I had had great material on the Lost Weekend from John and Yoko’s perspective, I probably would have extended the period covered in the film a little bit. I don’t think the estate would have minded, to be honest — trust me, I’ve had my battles with musical estates before over material. But they were extremely generous and very hands-off overall. It was really down to, John and Yoko move into the into 105 Bank Street in October 1971, they move out in April 1973, and that’s the movie. The only thing I have from after that period is them arriving at the Dakota, it’s half-empty and he’s playing the piano, and that’s the end of the movie. I felt like you needed one small moment of their continuing life in New York after that tumultuous period of them arriving and finding their footing.

Did the estate have veto power on stuff?
They gave me access to everything they had, so if there was something controversial they had been sitting on and there was some sort of idea that they could say “No” to stuff later, I wasn’t aware of it. When I told Sean my original idea, his immediate response was: “My mother would love this idea! Go ahead and do it.” As someone who’s a musician himself and a creative person, he loved the fact that it was playful and creative and not just a document of a performance, or reducing things to “John was this, Yoko was that.” But he did say something interesting to me. After I showed him a cut, he said “This is the only film I’ve seen that captures who my mother really was.” So that felt good to hear.

Let’s talk about recreating the Bank Street apartment, and how you convinced your wife [production designer Tatiana Macdonald] to come out of retirement to do it?
[Laughs] She’d retired about three years prior to us starting the documentary, and originally, I mentioned this idea to recreate the Bank Street apartment with as much fidelity as we could, and she thought, well, that doesn’t sound like it would be that bad. You know, a couple working on a movie about a couple: “It’d be nice to work together.” And by the end of it, she was very much like, “Yeah, I remember why I retired now.” She said it was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do.

I’m impressed that you’re still married.
I am, too. [Laughs] The thing is, when you’re making a movie about a fictional pop star of the 1970s, you can decorate that star’s apartment however you want, so long as it’s period accurate. But we got a list of all the books and records and everything that was in their place, because the archive was so well-catalogued. And the actual apartment they lived in was just about to be demolished, plus the insurance rates of getting things over to where we’d built the apartment to exact specifications in England was prohibitively expensive. So we had to rely on a lot of problem-solving. For example, we had that quilt on their bed remade by hand — the real one still exists, but to get it shipped over from the United Sates was going to cost too much. We managed to get the guitars from collectors in the U.K. We had to go to Poland to find the exact amp Lennon had at the time. We couldn’t find the exact TV they had, so we had to rebuild one from various components.

But you had the real blueprint of the apartment and photographs to work from?
Yes, except there actually aren’t a lot of photographs of the apartment itself — I mean, we probably had every one in existence, but there aren’t that many. From what we had, however, we were able to recreate every bit of clutter, from the newspapers stuffed into the end of the bed to everything that’s lying around on the floor. It was a pretty messy place, and I’m awe of the way my wife made you think you were walking into this messy apartment that had been preserved for the last 50 years.

There’s also a big emphasis on what John and Yoko were watching on TV during that time frame.
I just thought, Okay, this is going to be about their experience of America through television. John famously about his love for TV, and how they spent so much of those early years in that apartment taking in this view of America through the lens of TV. Keep in mind that in Britain, you had three channels, and everything switched off at midnight every night. Also, there was virtually no programming on in the afternoon. Then suddenly you’re in a country like this fucking crazy proliferation of 120 channels. My grandparents are American, so I spent a good deal of time in the United States as a kid. And I just would spend my time in front of their television going click click, click, and looking at all the different things that were on. I thought with him being British, John obviously felt that same thing. There are lots of photographs of them meeting people in that apartment, everyone’s sitting on that big bed, and the TV is on in the background. So I thought, let’s make that place the center of the film. What’s ironic is that television is partially responsible for them becoming more politicized, as they’re seeing what America is up against, but —

— It’s also responsible for Lennon becoming extremely disillusioned about the idea of a rock star trying to change the world, which you emphasize by putting coverage of Nixon’s election win in 1972 into the movie.
Exactly! The fact that the newscaster is emphasizing not just that Nixon took the popular vote, he had something like 53% of the youth vote — that gutted Lennon, I think. And it’s so weird how so much of what he’s going through in the film resonates so much with the political situation right now. Isn’t it so weird?

You read a lot about George Wallace’s presidential campaign, but you kind of forget about just how populist his speeches were. And when the footage of them comes up in One to One and you hear them now…
They sound very familiar, don’t they. This is this sort of history on some sort of rinse and repeat cycle. What’s struck me is that, as we were taking this film around on the festival circuit, a lot of young audiences, a lot of viewers in their teens and early 20s, have really responded to the film. There were post-screening Q&As where they said to me, this feels like this is about our world. There was a lot of that, as well: My God, I didn’t know celebrities could be so politically engaged, and actually be on the front line and be at marches, and so on.

The entire idea of the connection between celebrity engagement and activism — using fame for “good” — is a huge part of the film, right?
Yes. It’s a big part of Lennon’s “second act,” I guess you’d call it.

After spending years sifting through this material and thinking about Lennon’s political radicalization, do you feel like the relationship between Lennon and Jerry Ruben was totally transactional, or do you feel that’s too simplistic?
That’s now kind of the accepted understanding of their relationship, though, isn’t it? That Ruben was using Lennon, and Lennon’s using him. But Lennon is also quite naïve about so much of what’s happening. I think you really hear that on the recordings of his phone calls with Allen Klein. They become quite hilarious after a while. But I think that John — throughout his life, but particularly in this period — is trying to figure out who he is and what do you once you’ve been a Beatle? You know, you’re 31 years old and one of the most famous people in the world. What the hell do you do next? How do you use that? Where do you go from there?

I think he comes to this conclusion that political radicals are the new rock stars, and he’s trying to figure out if Jerry is actually somebody who can teach him about political activism. I think the enthusiasm with which he embraces Ruben and brings him into the band, and when they’re gonna do this whole idea of going on that “Free the People” tour. When he becomes part of the effort to free John Sinclair, he gets a taste of, Oh, maybe we actually can change the world. Then he becomes disillusioned politically, and rejects Jerry over the idea of political violence being some sort of end game.

“But if you talk about destruction, then don’t you know that you can count me out.”
[Laughs] It’s right there in the song! We actually toyed with adding “Revolution” into the film at one point, possibly as an end track. I don’t want to say it felt a little too on the nose, but….

Good call.
When you have access to the full catalogue of Lennon’s music, it’s tempting to put a lot of songs in. There’s a very kid-in-a-candy-store feeling that comes over you. I think the only Beatles track we use is “Come Together,” which makes a lot more sense. And I think in the version we use, he not talking about the Beatles coming together but about everyone coming together to make things work. Getting back to the disillusionment factor… yeah, I think John felt that the movement was a failure. And then he eventually figures out that hey, I can do something about making the world a better place — which is, you know, raise money for these kids.

The “One to One” show did a lot to help raise both money and awareness for the institution, correct? Even if Lennon never performed a full solo concert again, he felt like this was both a personal and professional success?
Yeah, it was a success in terms of raising money for the cause. But the reaction threw him a little bit, I think. When the reviews came back after ABC had broadcasted the show, the sort of general feeling was: Why does this look so bad? Why does this sound so muddy? And why the hell isn’t he playing all the Beatles’ tunes?! Those were the measures it was being judged on at the time. Which is insane, because you watch the footage now, and you see that he’s so fucking good onstage up there, and so charismatic and entertaining, you really do think, “Why the hell didn’t he do this more?”

Did you ever come up with an answer for that?
Lennon himself said that he was suffering from stage fright during the show, which is partially why I think he never really did a full concert again. But I also think that when he saw the reviews tearing it apart, he thought, I’m not going to put myself through this if they can’t appreciate what I’m trying to say up there. I will say that this was the one instance in which I seriously considered breaking the rule about not bringing in something from outside of the estate. If I’d found a TV interview where John had discussed his feelings about the show, I would have loved to have used that. We could only find written reviews from the New York Times and such, and I didn’t just want to cut to a static headline.

Speaking of which: Can you talk a little bit about the way you visualized the phone calls, with that combination of the recordings and text on the screen?
The idea was always that the more textures we have in the film, the better. And I thought that it’s quite nice to take a break from the sort of the mayhem of all the archival stuff. So obviously, the conventional way to do it would be, you’d play those recordings over a clip of period footage, right? But I thought that actually, you want an audience to concentrate on what’s being said and not be distracted. So we kept it simple. Plus there’s enough wit and fun in all that back and forth that the conversations do engage you on their own. Not to mention that you’re eavesdropping on these monumental figures. It’s kind of like, Oh, I’m getting to hear Lennon talk to Allen Klein about organizing a tour or listen in on Yoko’s assistant speaking to a gallery owner about one of her upcoming shows. This is kind of fascinating.

You learn so much about flies.
Honestly, there were so many fucking calls about the flies. It went on and on. I’ve just got a tiny proportion of them in there. It’s sort of shaggy dog story, isn’t it? But it totally makes narrative sense.

Go on.
Well, again, everyone had this idea of who Yoko was or is. But first and foremost, she’s a real artist, who was very well-known in that world before she met John. And she’s the sort of dedicated artist that is totally fixated on something like, “I have this idea, I want to have flies calling over a naked woman,” for whatever reason. What did that mean? I don’t know what it meant. But then why should it mean anything? It’s installation art, isn’t it?! And to hear them debating the logistics of keeping these flies alive is hilarious, but it’s also insightful. This is part of being a conceptual artist.

I should say, it took a while to clean up the recordings — they were old, the quality wasn’t great and because everyone was talking so fast, it made it impossible to hear things clearly. But like I said earlier, it’s amazing what technology can do nowadays, and once we started going through them… I mean, it’s a gold mine. To hear Yoko talking about what she went through in London, and the way she was treated, it’s like, Well, of course they had to get out of London. Of course they had to come to a place where people weren’t going fixate on them in that way. And that was New York City. That was they actually felt like they could be at home.