Do you think George really wanted to do the anthology documentary?  | Page 7 | Fab Forum | The Beatles Bible

ewe2 said
Paul: Yay I’m great!

John: Yay I’m great-er than Paul!

Ringo: We’re all great!

George: Great, but…

That’s where I think George sits in the “panethon”. He took it upon himself to be the leveller, and it suited him because spiky sarcasm was his favourite defence when he was insecure (it worked for John too). And we should also factor in George’s relative age and the level of trauma he felt with Beatlemania. It almost seems like he felt it was his duty to put in the disclaimers, especially after losing John, to do otherwise would have felt wrong. So I think all that plays out in the Anthology. It didn’t mean he hated Beatles (or perhaps it does) or the others, he just felt duty bound to point out these are fallible humans with points of view and there’s nothing mysterious about it. And especially as @SunKing points out, he was rarely given time by media to be anything else than a reluctant Beatle George, instead of the man who’d grown-up since then and had his own concerns that he felt just as important as the band of his youth. That meant he was going to be extra spiky just because.  

Yes I think that’s it exactly. 

The mention by Timothy of him being in an observer position is interesting because George himself described his position in that way in an interview around 1975. It was actually in the LitMW doc, but that bit was edited out (referring to him talking about spending years in the back of a limousine with Lennon/McCartney). The original interview should be floating around tumblr somewhere. 

If I was going to sum George up I’d say he was the Misunderstood Beatle. I think he viewed The Beatles as being two bands. There was the band as he knew it, and then there was the band the public saw. As early as 1964 he talked about how when he saw his picture in the press it was like looking at a different person, and that he tried to see himself as a “Beatle”, but he couldn’t. I believe he always loved The Beatles, but he became increasingly disturbed by the mythical version of the band that people had in their heads. The jump between being a working-class normal kid from Liverpool to being viewed as a literal God seemed deeply traumatic for him. He saw what it drove people to do whether out of love or hate, and had to come to terms with it at a very young age. You can see his love for The Beatles come through in the other projects he pursued in his life since he was clearly searching for another close knit group to be apart of, but the pressure from what people expected from him and the band took the joy out of it. There’s an episode of The Crown which goes into the Queen’s friendship with Billy Graham, and at one point she talks about how it was comforting for her to listen to him preach because it was the only time she was able to be a regular person. I wonder if George had a similar feeling from his relationship with spirituality. The idea that he actually wasn’t important and none of it mattered in the grand scheme of things was comforting to him which is also why he loved things like Monty Python and The Rutles. 

Here are some telling answers from an interview he did for Men Only in 1978.

Int: What about The Beatles nostalgia craze of the past few years, and the current slew of nostalgia musicals, including I Wanna Hold Your Hand, which occurred during the same day you made your American debut?

Harrison: It’s lots of fun for me to relive the past from a distance. Trying to reunite all four of us with ridiculous sums, though, isn’t fun – it’s scary, as though everyone wants us to be what we once were, which we aren’t anymore. […]

Int: Which of the ex-Beatles would most like The Beatles to reunite?

Harrison: Personally, I’m not opposed to the idea, if it’s done through mutual agreement. But the pressure seems to be bigger than any of us, and when they talk of sums like $50 or $60 million, it’s almost a farce. I know Paul’s booked for the next few years, and John may have lost interest in the idea. Ringo and I are closest on it; we both feel it’s not impossible, but it’s highly unlikely, if only because of the legal and business maze that would have to be resolved before the four of us set foot on stage together. Things have a way of complicating themselves once stardom strikes. The fun of the early days is how simple things are, how much control the performer has over his or her own destiny. Once that monster fame grabs hold, there’s less and less control and things aren’t done for the fun of it any more. It becomes a greedy corporation with dozens of associates trying to get their slice of the profits, which means they want you work even harder, do things their way, forget you’re a human being in love with music. I’m finally free of all that, and if bringing back The Beatles means returning to that, I’d never agree to it. As for one concert, one huge benefit from which genuinely deserving people would benefit, if that ever becomes possible, I’ll go along with it, as long as there’s a minimum of fuss. But I’m afraid the public would want to hear the old stuff, nothing that we’ve done individually, nor a new sound we’ve developed together. Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be, you know.

Int: So much has been written about your spirituality that at times it would appear you’ve earned the image of a saint. Does this bother you?

Harrison: It does, because I’m in no way saintly. And I don’t think the people in the media who ascribe this image to me are doing it out of good motives. They just want to label me, to give me a readily recognisable tag that will sell them more copies and fit me into whatever slot they wish to peg me into. […]

Int: You ‘suffer’ from being so famous?

Harrison: I would if I allowed myself to, if I kept up the pace I did when I was starting out. Everyone has to suffer the gimmicks and other stunts and machinations when they’re starting out – only at the time, it doesn’t feel like suffering; it’s fun and different then. But a little fame goes a long way, and then one tries to cast off part of the heavy burden – a burden one can never totally escape. I don’t mean to sound mysterious or try to baffle anyone, but when people come up to me expecting me to be just like what they thought a Beatle would be, they’re disappointed. I never was a Beatle, except musically. I don’t think any of us was. What is a Beatle anyway? I’m not a Beatle or an ex-Beatle or even the George Harrison . I’m just a man. Very ordinary.