In the closing days of October, Prime Video introduced Midas Man (Joe A. Stephenson, 2024), a long-awaited attempt to honour Brian Epstein—often called the '5th Beatle.' Epstein’s impact on music was like the Midas touch, yet decades later, he remains underappreciated. As a fan, I felt the thrill of seeing his story take centre stage, but the film’s convoluted direction, budget constraints, and limitations with Beatles copyrights left much to be desired in terms of detail. However, as November, the month dedicated to men’s mental health, arrives, the film’s portrayal of Epstein's struggles raises timely reflections. Midas Man offers us more than a biopic—it’s an opportunity to discuss the often-hidden mental health challenges that accompany high-stakes careers and creativity, making Epstein’s story as relevant as ever.
One of Midas Man’s boldest choices is breaking the fourth wall with Brian Epstein (Jacob Fortune-Lloyd), allowing him to narrate his own story directly to the audience. It’s an age-old theatrical device, but it is rarely seen in biopics. This approach gives Epstein a first-person voice, creating an intimacy that invites viewers into his world while he reflects on it himself. Through this lens, the dramatic irony of the story deepens: while Epstein shares his journey, the camera subtly unveils his inner demons—anxieties, pressures, and moments of isolation—that he himself can’t escape. Rather than silencing them, which is a common coping mechanism among men, Midas Man offers a rare portrayal of vulnerability in a high-stakes industry, encouraging viewers to confront mental health challenges often sidelined in biographical narratives.
Midas Man doesn’t shy away from Epstein’s complex relationship with his father, a figure rooted in the stable, traditional values of the working class—a sharp contrast to Brian’s more experimental, modern, and often unstable world. His hidden homosexuality added to this weight, especially after being discharged by the Royal Army Service Corps in 1952, on the recommendation of army psychiatrists due to his “being emotionally and mentally unfit.” In the 1960s, Britain’s laws criminalised homosexuality, and although places like Amsterdam, Torremolinos, Barcelona, and even Manchester offered more acceptance, Epstein family (owners of a furniture shop) and his prominence in The North End Road Music Stores and local music scene amplified the risks. His need to conceal his identity resulted in escapist holidays and weekend getaways, moments of relief from a society that wouldn’t openly accept him. A scene in Midas Man where John Lennon toys with a Spanish bullfighting souvenir—a symbol of macho culture—adds another layer to Epstein’s silent struggle. His repressed desire to build a family. Over time, these anxieties, conflicts and repressions contributed to the vices he turned to for solace: stimulants, drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes, habits that ultimately wore him down.
Epstein’s ‘gold’ was The Beatles, a group whose legacy is almost impossible to summarise—one that captured and transformed an entire generation, transcending time and sparking a cultural revolution. Under Epstein’s management, The Beatles did more than create iconic music; they also subtly challenged traditional notions of masculinity, reshaping perceptions of gender roles. From their early days, the band embraced individuality over conformity, beginning with their ‘mop-top’ haircuts that defied conventional grooming norms and inspired countless imitators.
Through both their music and public personas, The Beatles broke away from the stoic, macho image of male musicians. They expressed vulnerability, explored complex emotions, and engaged in introspection—qualities that redefined masculinity in the 1960s and beyond. Their charm and approachability set them apart from the rugged image often associated with rock musicians, creating a more open, emotionally nuanced vision of what it meant to be a man. Their music crossed borders, challenging societal expectations on a global scale, while their anti-establishment stance and critiques of authority shook not only rigid gender roles but also the power structures that upheld them.
The Beatles’ affectionate camaraderie further symbolised an alternative model of masculinity, one rooted in friendship and emotional connection rather than the detached, hardened persona of the time. With Epstein’s vision and support, they bridged cultural divides and encouraged fans worldwide to embrace self-expression and question tradition, leaving a legacy that continues to shape ideas around gender and identity.
A crucial aspect of The Beatles’ transformation was Brian Epstein’s polished touch. When he first encountered them, they were working-class teenagers clad in leather jackets, with unrefined manners and raw energy. But Epstein saw their potential beyond the rebellious image. He refined their look, trading the rugged leather for tailored suits and sleek haircuts, creating trademarks that would become instantly recognisable worldwide. Epstein’s influence extended to their public demeanour as well—encouraging professionalism, politeness, and a charismatic stage presence that resonated across generations. His ‘polish’ didn’t erase their authenticity; rather, it amplified it, making them relatable yet aspirational.
Epstein’s vision turned The Beatles into a cultural phenomenon, blending their authentic charm with a universal appeal that transcended class and background. He didn’t just manage their careers—he crafted their identities, helping them become symbols of a new era where working-class talent could rise to iconic status.
Epstein’s approach to shaping the public personas of his artists extended beyond The Beatles, influencing how masculinity was portrayed across the British music scene. With Gerry and the Pacemakers, as well as Billy J. Kramer & the Dakotas, he crafted images that were less rebellious but equally impactful. While The Beatles pushed boundaries with their playful charm and introspective lyrics, Gerry and the Pacemakers embodied a wholesome, approachable masculinity. Known for hits like ‘How Do You Do It?’ and ‘Ferry Cross the Mersey,’ they were seen as relatable and down-to-earth, offering a softer, more accessible vision of masculinity than the gritty rock personas emerging in the U.S.
Similarly, Billy J. Kramer & the Dakotas, under Epstein’s management, presented a polished, clean-cut image that appealed to a broad audience. Their style leaned towards gentlemanly, with Kramer’s smooth vocals and the band’s reserved demeanour creating a contrast to the louder, more rebellious bands of the era. These groups might not have challenged masculinity as directly as The Beatles did, but under Epstein’s guidance, they embodied a version of manhood that was sensitive, refined, and approachable, countering the hyper-masculine stereotypes in rock and roll. Epstein’s influence helped diversify the ways masculinity was represented in popular music, making room for vulnerability, elegance, and charm alongside conventional toughness.
In the end, the real gold lies not in fame or fortune, but in the authenticity and emotional courage that can inspire future generations to break free from the confines of tradition and the fear of emotional vulnerability that persists after 60 years, in an era dominated by filters and edits!
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