Mersey beaucoup: the Beatles in Paris – archive, 1964
Following hard on the heels of Père Duval – who, the previous night, had a sedate audience singing popular religious songs – Les Beatles made their entry to Paris on Thursday at the Olympia music-hall. “There are too many hairdressers invited to Parisian galas these days for such badly combed people to have a triumph,” sniffed the critic of Le Figaro. But he did appreciate what he described as “an exhibition of English boxe staged in the wings by a gros commando of journalists direct from Fleet Street.”
The audience for the premiere were for the most part highly varnished members of tout-Paris nightclub and entertainment life. Ringo Beatle complained gloomily that the house was full of old people and not much heat could be expected to be generated. He spoke just a moment too soon.
They had suddenly appeared in our midst, fringed eyes and teeth gleaming, like a clutch that had strayed from Duck Soup. It was not until they had slid into their dressing room that the photographers decided they wanted to take pictures. In the adjoining dressing room the young French pop singer Sylvie Vartan dutifully conformed to the custom of leaving her dressing room door open so that she could be photographed at will, reading telegrams and arranging flowers. But the Beatles were shut off from us with a bodyguard on duty. Occasionally we had a tantalising glimpse of them reading comics, surrounded by hefty protecting uncles.
Source: Peter Lennon/theguardian.com
