Would a viewer who doesn’t know anything about The Beatles like Nowhere Boy? I’m not entirely sure. But putting aside the notion that anyone watching a film about John Lennon’s adolescence would not have at least a passing familiarity with the most popular rock band ever, Nowhere Boy does a better job than most of creating a compelling story that only partially hinges on the audience’s knowledge of what would become of the main character’s little skiffle band.
A large part of the credit for pulling this off belongs, I think, to screenwriter Matt Greenhalgh. His first film, the Ian Curtis biography Control, earned well-deserved praise even from critics who’d never listened to Joy Division.* Like Control, Nowhere Boy manages the trick of outlining the life of a cultishly revered musician while avoiding the hazards plaguing most rock biopics. There are few pandering shout-outs to Lennon’s future output (i.e., no shoehorned-in dialogue à la “Ya’ll cain’t walk no line!”), and what references that are present are low-key enough to be charming. The beginning of the film, which puns on the opening sequence of A Hard Day’s Night, works as a glimpse into John’s (Aaron Johnson) early ambition, not just an easy reference pandering to Beatles fans.
Another element Greenhalgh gets right is Lennon’s attitude, how he could be creative and charismatic but also narcissistic, controlling and quick with a cutting remark. When his bandmates in The Quarrymen recommend 15-year-old Paul McCartney (Thomas Brodie Sangster) join the group, John dismisses him because he recognizes that Paul’s a better guitarist and singer than he is. (“You don’t seem like a rock’n’roll kinda guy,” John sneers. “What,” Paul replies, “’cause you mean I don’t go smashing things up and acting like a dick?”) Ultimately, though, John’s possessiveness gets Paul into his band, if only to prevent him from joining someone else’s.
But the formation of The Beatles is really only a sub-plot. The majority of Nowhere Boy hinges on John’s uncertainty as to where he belongs. Is it with his Aunt Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas), the disciplinarian and classic stiff-upper-lip Briton, who’s raised him for as long as he can remember? Or is it with his mother Julia (Anne-Marie Duff), a free spirit who’s secretly been living just a few blocks away with a new family? On the surface, John seems to share more in common with Julia: she plays rock and roll records and teaches him banjo. But her relationship with her son is uncomfortably unmaternal. Julia treats John more like a boyfriend she can run away with to Blackpool for the day, or ignore when he starts getting clingy. Her kisses are too frequent, her manner too indulgent, her feelings too easily hurt. Julia is eternally stuck in adolescence. It’s only a matter of time before John outgrows her.
By the film’s end, John recognizes Mimi as his true mother, and not just because she’s done all the duties that his real mother should have done. Greenhalgh’s dialogue brilliantly captures John and Mimi’s shared language, thick with wordplay and witty sarcasm. John’s controlling nature is mirrored throughout by Mimi’s attempts to establish a respectable middle class household, despite John’s and her husband George’s rebellions. Even though she doesn’t get rock and roll, Mimi’s the one who buys John his two guitars, first the acoustic he begs for, then the electric she intuits he’d want. It’s this story of discovering one’s true family that gives Nowhere Boy a more universal appeal beyond the before-he-was-famous look into John Lennon’s adolescence. It’s fitting that when the film ends, the closing titles don’t tell us about John’s future artistic or commercial success. Instead, the film closes simply with these words: “John called Mimi as soon as he arrived in Hamburg … and every week thereafter for the rest of his life.”
(*Fun coincidence: Control was also the first feature directed by Anton Corbijn, who helmed MFF #3 pick The American.)
Look, Sally, Look 