Paul McCartney wants you to know a few things: that he makes a lot of money, that he works real hard, and that he’s true to his friends. This film, written by McCartney and directed by Peter Webb, consists of several indifferent rock videos strung together by the lamest excuse for a framing story you’ve ever seen; a couple of scenes try to re-create the relaxed improvisational comedy and group interplay of A Hard Day’s Night, but not even Paul and Ringo have much to say to each other anymore. You could call it a self-serving film, were McCartney’s complacency not so all-embracing: self-flattery requires at least a hint of self-doubt, but there’s no trace of anything remotely that unsettling on McCartney’s placid, Buddha-like brow. I’m glad he’s feeling good, but beaming, unruffled contentment doesn’t make for good cinema; only Linda’s vampirish presence suggests that the McCartney universe might have a darker side. With Bryan Brown, Barbara Bach, Tracey Ullman, and Ralph Richardson; Dave Edmunds’s guitar enlivens a couple of tracks.