‘One to One: John & Yoko’ Review: A Concert That Becomes a Snapshot of an Era

So many documentaries have been made about the Beatles—and about John Lennon in particular—that you can’t help wondering what possibly remains to be said or shown. One to One makes the case that, if you have strong archival material, unseen footage and recordings, and above all a clear conceptual spine to organize it all, there are still plenty of stories to tell. Even if much of the information is familiar, the way this film assembles its material gives us access to Lennon and Yoko Ono’s world in a way that feels rooted in its specific moment, rather than in the mythology—largely set aside here—of the four long-haired boys from Liverpool.

One to One is built around a concert—known to most of us through the pared-down album John Lennon: Live in New York City—but it’s not what we usually call a concert film. Instead, it uses songs and moments from the show as connective tissue to explore the surrounding social and political climate, which at the time consumed the lives of the couple who had just moved to New York and were fascinated by the city’s whirlwind of activism. Told this way, the film becomes a portrait of Lennon and Ono’s connections (and disconnections) with the fiercely political years between 1971 and 1973. And running through it is the concert itself, whose songs often feel like commentary on the events unfolding around them.

Macdonald starts with an anecdote from John and Yoko: after moving to New York, they spent much of their time lying in bed watching television. That chaotic mix of political talk, social unrest, ads, music, and activism became their gateway into the city, helping them form bonds with various groups and movements. They aimed to use Lennon’s fame to draw attention to issues they felt were being overlooked. Watching the film, you get the sense that—in the spirit of the times—they wouldn’t let a single cause pass without stepping forward: prison conditions, racism, feminism, hospital crises, drug decriminalization, and so on. At the same time, one of their most urgent personal goals was reconnecting with Kyoko, Yoko Ono’s daughter from a previous marriage, whom her father had kept away from them.

Into this flood of information, the filmmaker—known for excellent documentaries like One Day in September and Touching the Void, as well as less successful fiction features like The Last King of Scotland and The Mauritanian—intercuts songs from what would become the only full concert Lennon performed after leaving the Beatles (Note: the shows were actually two, both on the same day). Tracks like “New York City,” “Power to the People,” “Come Together,” “Instant Karma,” “Imagine,” “Don’t Worry Kyoko,” and “Mother” appear in footage and recordings that look and sound remarkably sharp.

Between songs, Macdonald threads together what feel like the daily headlines of those turbulent years, with Nixon and Vietnam dominating the archival news footage. Layered into this are taped phone conversations that reveal the couple’s private anxieties about getting involved in situations that might spiral—Lennon was under threat of deportation—alongside more lighthearted or even absurd moments, like their attempts to procure a thousand flies for an art piece.

One to One becomes a panorama of an intense era—not unlike the present—but one in which political activity thrived in public spaces and the couple made constant television appearances to speak out on, well, nearly everything. Activists like Jerry Rubin appear, as do poets like Allen Ginsberg and eccentric figures like A.J. Weberman, the self-styled Dylanologist who rummaged through Bob Dylan’s trash and accused him of selling out. And in the background, the early tremors of Watergate begin to surface, leading eventually to Nixon’s downfall.

At a certain point, Lennon and Ono turn inward, distancing themselves from the more radical fringes of activism and moving toward “primal therapy” and a more introspective mindset. This shift blends the mood of the era with the couple’s own fears about being deported or complicating their efforts to reconnect with Yoko’s daughter. Not long after leaving their small apartment at 105 Bank Street in the West Village for the Dakota on the Upper West Side, Sean was born, and their lives changed dramatically. But during the 18 months covered in One to One, Lennon seems able to stand at the center of the chaos and still find a way to express it through his music. And this extraordinary documentary captures both the couple and their moment in time with a clarity few films have matched.