Sean Ono Lennon on ‘One to One: John & Yoko,’ Sam Mendes’s Beatles Films, and Life at 49

In the nearly 45 years since John Lennon was killed outside The Dakota, he’s remained both a legend and a man—thanks in no small part to Yoko Ono and Sean Ono Lennon’s stewardship of his estate. (I’m going to wait a second for the haters who never shut up to leave the room.) Kevin Macdonald’s new documentary, One to One, is a captivating addition to the canon, with concert tracks produced by Sean himself.

Macdonald (The Last King of Scotland, State of Play) makes John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s long-lost Madison Square Garden concerts from 1972 the documentary’s centerpiece. It’s a vibrant, often moving set, but the director is after even more. He captures the swirling larger context of the early ’70s, when John and Yoko were living in Greenwich Village and their anti-war activism landed John on Nixon’s deportation list. What makes the doc so inventive is how Macdonald intersperses the footage with vintage interviews, news reports, and even anesthetizing TV commercials from back in the day. Taken together, his collage beautifully conjures a divisive era that may look a little familiar.

In advance of One to One’s theatrical run (it opens in IMAX theaters on April 11, before expanding) Sean Ono Lennon talked and emailed with Vanity Fair about the documentary, his parents, and what his life is like as he approaches 50.

Vanity Fair: I interviewed you and your mom at The Dakota when you were 20, and the two of you were about to tour for the album Rising. She was worried that you’d be embarrassed to be in a rock band with your mother, but I remember you saying, “I’m just so psyched to bring Yoko to the people.”

Sean Ono Lennon: Well, obviously parents are always embarrassing, but the thing that maybe people would expect me to be embarrassed by I was very proud of—which is I think her music is great. I was always inspired by her music. I grew up with her making records.

Do you remember being in the studio with your parents as a little kid?

Sure. I remember being in the studio during Double Fantasy, actually. I remember them recording my voice and me not realizing that they were. It kind of, I don’t know, made me uncomfortable. I hated the sound of my voice. I just have these very vague memories of napping on the couch and stuff.

Now you must get people coming up to you and saying, “Gosh, the ‘Beautiful Boy’ is…”

[Laughs] An ugly man.

Oh, stop.

[Sings to the tune of “Beautiful Boy”] Ugly, ugly, ugly, ug-a-ly man.

What was it like to go back and listen to the live tracks when you produced them for One to One?

It was really fun for me because the tracks were kind of a mess, and I got to listen to the raw master tapes with Paul Hicks, who’s the engineer I work with. In terms of Mom, I mean, I think she was really amazing. She hadn’t been a rock star or a pop artist before—she was an avant-garde conceptual artist who did installations, and she did some experimental performances with John and Ornette Coleman. But for her to just walk onstage at Madison Square Garden to do two sold-out shows in a single day—to have that kind of confidence and just do it—is something that I don’t think I could do.

I feel like I have memories of her telling me that she was influenced by avant-garde composers, and she tried to incorporate those kinds of tones into her chords. She wasn’t the most trained classical musician, but I think she was more than most rock musicians. She came to it from a pretty sophisticated place.

So just as a music nerd, producing the music for One to One was an interesting challenge? I hope you don’t mind me calling you a music nerd.

I take that as a compliment. I really have enjoyed working on all my dad’s music and the stuff I’ve done with my mom, but I especially enjoyed this. I guess, as you say, from a music-nerd perspective, it’s really fun to have challenges and overcome them. Especially with modern mixing technology, there’s a lot more you can do. It makes me feel really good that I can honestly say to myself that we’re making the best version of these recordings that people have ever heard. That’s subjective, but at least I can say that to myself with a straight face.

Your parents sing some powerful songs in the documentary. John does “Mother,” and Yoko does “Don’t Worry Kyoko,” about the agony of being forcibly separated from her first child. One to One is largely about an electric political moment in the ’70s, but I don’t see how anybody could watch it and not be moved by the personal pain they’re singing about.

I think when you listen to those records, it’s harder for people to imagine. But when you are at the performance you see that my mom’s essentially doing a Jimi Hendrix feedback guitar solo—but with her voice. It’s a very energetic kind of wild rock-and-roll energy. I toured the world playing guitar in her band, and people you might not expect to enjoy that kind of thing really did actually wind up kind of grooving to it. Especially “Don’t Worry Kyoko.” That song is so heavy on so many levels because of what it’s about, and then she’s wailing and it’s uncomfortable for people. But the groove is just killer. And for this concert, the band is just killing it, and it’s kind of hypnotic.

It’s wrenching to see your father sing “Mother.” What’s your relationship to that song these days? Obviously, it’s about his mom and dad both leaving him—in very different ways.

Well, to be honest my first memory of that version of “Mother” is when he plays a wrong note and smiles guiltily. Even when I was young I found that to be especially charming. The whole JL POB album [John Lennon/the Plastic Ono Band] is a masterpiece in my view. I grew up listening to “God” and “Mother” (sister tunes to my ears), and was very moved by them even before I could understand them. You can hear the influence my mother had on his singing style as he screams at the end…. You can tell my father is putting the elaborate surrealism of his past away for a more brutalist and raw type of expression. The transformation in his style from Beatle to solo artist I think is unprecedented for someone of his stature. In short, it’s one of the best moments of the film and concert.

For many years, your mother did an excellent job of keeping your father’s music alive in the world. I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying the work you’re doing now, because I’ve sometimes wondered if it’s hard for you to suddenly be a spokesperson for them.

Well, I really love doing work that is meaningful to me personally. It has really enriched my life. I mean, it’s made my life more complicated, but I also think it’s a gift. And in terms of being a spokesperson—I don’t really want to be a spokesperson. I don’t think you can really speak for other people, especially John and Yoko. I feel that I am speaking for me, and I am their kid. I know a lot about them. I know a lot about their work and their intentions and where they were coming from—probably better than maybe anybody. But I don’t want to be considered a spokesperson. To be honest, my father’s not here, so it’s unfair to represent what he would think. And my mother certainly is not the kind of person who wishes me to speak for her. I wouldn’t say that I’m a spokesperson. I would say I’m a custodian, maybe.

Your mother once told me that your dad worried the “business bastards” would have the two of you out on the street if he died. When he did die, your mom of course worried about what would happen to you if she died. When you were six, she brought you onstage at the Grammys partly to introduce you to the world so you’d be a little safer. Is that right?

Well, yeah. I would say that going to the Grammys for Double Fantasy was definitely a kind of a splash into cold water for me, in terms of the public at large. It was intense.

Now you must be worried about both John and Yoko and their legacies.

What you were saying about my mom working very hard to keep my dad in the zeitgeist—I think she did an amazing job. And hopefully I learned a lot from that. But I think it’s almost harder than ever to keep an artist like my dad in the consciousness. There’s so much more art. There’s so much more music. There’s hundreds of thousands of albums coming out every year, and they’re all essentially free. And then on top of it, society is changing so much. So I do worry about people forgetting about John Lennon, because I don’t think society should—or can afford to—forget about people like my dad or my mom. She’s still present in the world and people are seeing her work all the time, whereas my dad hasn’t been around for a while.

When I went to university, there was a core curriculum where you have to learn a certain number of masterpieces of music, a certain number of masterpieces of literature. I feel like society has shifted away from even believing in that kind of tradition, which I think is very dangerous. I really think that not only do we owe it to future generations to keep Shakespeare and Socrates alive, we also owe it to them to keep Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon alive.

When I was growing up—and that was the ’80s and ’90s, even the early 2000s—you could argue people like Zeppelin and Hendrix and the Beatles and Stones were in the pantheon of these godlike figures. I don’t think it’s as true today, and I think that that’s unfortunate. The music they produce and the transformative ideas that they represented are really important. I don’t think we can afford to forget them, especially in the case of John and Yoko, because in that case, we’re talking about peace and love. And I think that message is sadly as important, if not more important than it’s ever been.

One to One is experimental in the sense that you don’t know what’s going to come at you next—live music, news footage, interviews with John and Yoko, commercials from the ’70s. It’s a collage of many things, but it captures the era so vividly.

It was a brilliant concept to tell the story of John and Yoko’s political years—their political activist years—through intermittently watching their concert, while also telling the story of the ’70s in America and the world. I think Kevin Macdonald—he’s clearly a brilliant filmmaker. I mean, the film happens to be revolving around the central concert that happened, but it’s so much more than that.

Tell me some music you love and listen to constantly. If you made me a playlist, what would be on it?

Man, I would actually send you a playlist if you want.

Yes, please.

Despite my hatred of Spotify, I have to admit that I also use Spotify. I have hundreds of playlists. It’s ridiculous. I listen to so many different kinds of music, to be honest. I go through real phases. Maybe you do, maybe most people do—but I’ll listen to one record every day for weeks.

Can you give me an example?

[Here, Lennon—passionately and in too much detail to quote—recommends the indie band Warpaint, the British pianist Tom Rogerson and his work with Brian Eno, the virtuosic Swedish duo Mats/Morgan Band, the longtime progressive-rock singer Peter Hammill, and the electronic music artist who goes by the name Aphex Twin.]

You opened up Pandora’s box. I’m a very weird guy, and I sit and I just look through the internet to find people who were in bands of bands of bands. That’s honestly the best thing about the internet—researching music and cat videos. Those are the two reasons I still have a computer.

You’ve always seemed to have good relationships with everybody in the Beatles family, including your half brother, Julian.

Well, look, the idea that Julian and I were ever not close is wrong. That’s something that the press made up. I think it’s because my mother and he had some disputes, and his version of that story he was very public about. That’s his right to do that. I tend to not want to talk about family things like that. Just my personal style—I think I inherited it from my mother. But Julian and I have always been close. He was my hero when I was young. He taught me to play guitar. He had a number one record when I was a tween, so he was literally one of the reasons I started playing music. And this idea that we were ever fighting is…it’s almost like the “Yoko broke up the Beatles” thing. No matter how many times I say it’s not true, no matter how many photos people see of us laughing and hanging out, they always say, “Oh, you should hang out with your brother.” I’m like, “We do. I love him.” It’s never been a problem. Ever.

People want it to be some kind of Game of Thrones thing, but it never has been with us. I always loved [Julian’s mom] Cynthia too. She was always very, very lovely to me. Frankly, even when Julian and my mom were fighting, they were still nice. They still loved each other. He still came into the house. He stayed in ‘71—my mom’s apartment. It is just like the Beatles Get Back film: You watch it and you realize they weren’t fighting in the way that everyone imagined. There was some tension. That’s as far as you could say.

I assume you have a good relationship with Paul McCartney too.

Sure. He’s been very kind to me over the years, and he and [his wife] Nancy especially have been very kind. And I’m very close with [Paul’s children] Stella and James. James and I did a song together. Mary I love very much as well. Obviously in the ’80s, maybe, there was a bit of tension, but not with me. With me, he’s my hero, man.

Can I ask you how your mom is doing these days? I know your family is private, but is there anything you can tell us?

Well, I would say that she’s very healthy for a 92-year-old.

It was wild to see the cast for the four Beatles movies that Sam Mendes is making. Did you get to talk to him or to Harris Dickinson, who will play your father? Are you excited or nervous or both?

We are all in touch with Sam (the Beatles gang). I told him I am not interested in second-guessing his casting choices as a director. Would anyone have expected Christian Bale to be a good Dick Cheney? I think that’s the filmmaker’s choice. My interest has more to do with the scripts, and how they intertwine. I have every confidence in Sam and Harris and the rest of the team.

Okay, one last thing. I’m aware that this is weird, but I’d like to read you a few sentences I wrote about you after meeting you 30 years ago, and then have you tell me how it sounds to you. Can you stand this?

Sure, go ahead.

“In person, Lennon is phosphorescent with love and awe for his mother, whom he compares to Miles Davis. But he’s dismissive of his own gifts: ‘I suck, basically. Well, I’m okay.’ Lennon, who’s on leave from Columbia University, seems enormously sweet and jittery, insisting he’s introspective, neurotic, and intimidated by everything. ‘Life is frightening,’ he says. ‘You know what I mean?’” Does that sound like an accurate reflection of you at 20, and how does it sound to you now?

Wow, that’s interesting. It sounds like exactly the inner voice that I have to this day. It is actually shocking how little I’ve changed. When I look back, I think of myself then as being a lot more arrogant. I didn’t realize how self-aware I was at the time. I guess I was self-aware.

You definitely didn’t strike me as arrogant.

Well, yeah, I wasn’t an arrogant person, but I had this kind of confidence. I remember making my first record—and making Rising—and just thinking everyone was going to love it. Now that I’m older, I’m more realistic about things.

Before I let you go, tell me what you’re personally working on these days.

Les Claypool and I are trying to finish up this third Delirium album, which I’m very excited about. I feel very lucky in terms of the scope of projects I get to work on. I got to do this film, War Is Over!, which won an Oscar. It’s an animated CGI thing, which is a whole new medium for me. Then I got to do this box set for my dad that got a Grammy. And I still get to have my own bands and my own studio and make music. I feel very fortunate that I get to expose my brain to so many different things. I think I have a good chance of keeping my neurons working.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.