‘John Lennon: The Last Interview’ Review: Steven Soderbergh’s Documentary Captures John Lennon at His Happiest…and Most Messianic

Two distinct moments in Steven Soderbergh's documentary "John Lennon: The Last Interview" perfectly encapsulate the former Beatle's complex personality. One reveals him as deeply humane and captivating, while the other shows a more messianic and, frankly, irritating side. As someone who has revered the Beatles since childhood, it feels strange to associate the word "annoying" with any of them, yet here we are.

The film presents the final media conversation Lennon ever granted, chillingly conducted on the very day of his murder: December 8, 1980. Just hours before the tragedy, John and Yoko Ono welcomed a small crew from San Francisco's KFRC radio station into their Dakota apartment. This was the sole radio interview Lennon agreed to do for "Double Fantasy," his comeback album released three weeks prior. Notably, immediately before the interview began, the couple was upstairs participating in the now-iconic Annie Leibovitz photo session for Rolling Stone. During the conversation, Lennon discusses the track "(Just Like) Starting Over," which he describes as a celebration of his and Yoko's rekindled romance after turbulent years. The song's tone is buoyant yet tinged with rueful acknowledgment of their shared history. However, Lennon expands its meaning, arguing it represents a broader cultural reconciliation between men and women following the rise of third-wave feminism. He saw the gender divide winding down and intended the song to encourage a general reunion between the sexes. This perspective demonstrates his remarkable ability to grasp the big picture and reflect it back to society.

The documentary's second key moment, while equally revealing, proves far more problematic. "Double Fantasy" marked Lennon's return after a five-year hiatus beginning in 1975, when his son Sean was born. He famously became a "househusband"—a novel term at the time—shelving his guitar to focus on raising Sean. This was a revolutionary concept, heralding an era where men were increasingly seen as domestic nurturers. In the interview, Lennon describes his routine: waking early to prepare Sean's sugar-free breakfast, ensuring he watched "Sesame Street" instead of commercial television. Yet he then casually mentions that a nanny would take over for most of the day. This revelation undercuts his image as a fully hands-on father. While there is nothing wrong with employing childcare, it seems contradictory for someone who spent five years away from music to preach the virtues of intensive fatherhood, only to delegate the bulk of caregiving. The singer, whose 2019 album "Thank U, Next" broke streaming records, might have benefited from this kind of reflection, but that's a different story.

Throughout "The Last Interview," Lennon appears remarkably happy, yet this euphoria fuels his most messianic tendencies. The man who wielded cynical acid wit also possessed a deeply sentimental side—the same side that produced "Imagine" and treated his marriage to Yoko as instructional performance art. That side is on full display here, and I found myself missing more of his characteristic cynicism. Soderbergh has masterfully crafted the documentary as a dreamy archival collage, accompanying Lennon and Ono's words with hundreds of rarely seen photographs, plus a few AI-generated fantasy images (a non-issue, as older technology would have drawn no criticism). The needle drops, including Beatles and Lennon songs, are impeccable, particularly the exquisite use of "Love" over the closing credits. However, one condition of the interview was that Lennon would not discuss the Beatles or the past—a significant restriction. This makes "The Last Interview" feel like one of the first modern promotional interviews, where Lennon's relentless bonhomie sometimes feels like marketing his happiness to sell the album. I preferred the raw energy of the famous Jann Wenner interview "Lennon Remembers," and Kevin Macdonald's recent "One to One: John & Yoko" offers more revelation about the couple's tumultuous early years in New York.

Yet despite these criticisms, "The Last Interview" presents a powerful vision of where Lennon was heading. He speaks of wanting to perform live again, to tour with musicians like those on "Double Fantasy." At 40, having struggled through much of the early '70s and largely vanished during the latter half (though he remained an avid New Yorker), he was revving up to rejoin the world. The documentary reveals he had only just begun. His message—a sequel to the Beatles' call for love—focused on women and a new kind of equality deeper than power. For Lennon, this was square one. The bittersweet tragedy is that we see exactly where he was going, only to know he was felled by a madman's bullet just hours after speaking these words. It lends the film an inescapable poignance, capturing a man on the cusp of a new chapter, tragically cut short.