Reading the odd review of BBC’s Electric Proms the other week, and the default concept of chucking in orchestra/choir to create an “event”, I started wondering whether the pairing of Grizzly Bear with the London Symphony Orchestra was such a good idea. After all, the songs on “Veckatimest”, even the ones with strings, are so airy and lacking in bombast. Sometimes, I find myself barely noticing the instrumentation, with the focus so intently on those ornate vocal melodies. Remarkably, Saturday’s show at the Barbican manages to pull off a similar trick; thanks, I guess, to the superb harmony singing of the four Grizzly Bear members and the orchestrations of Nico Muhly, tucked away in the corner of a very crowded stage behind a grand piano. I’m struggling to think of a band+orchestra show where the orchestra has been used in such a subtle way. In fact, Muhly’s arrangements are sometimes so discreet, it seems an even more decadent event. From “Easier” on, as Chris Taylor crouches on the floor with a flute, Daniel Rossen takes the lead and Edward Droste lets out his first levitating sigh of the evening, Muhly’s deft and intricate arrangements are bewitching rather than intrusive. The spaciousness remains, for the most part, with the band, artfully, playing a long game. The build-up to crescendos lasts over several songs rather than the odd minute or so, which makes the fireworks - the quixotic swell of “Southern Point”; a bit of feisty atonalism at the end of “Fine For Now”; the opulent menace of The Crystals’ “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)” – all the more impressive. Only on the grand romance of “I Live With You”, perhaps, does it feel as if the orchestra are roaring at full strength; coming as this does a good hour, 75 minutes, into the show, the impact is huge. Unlike many of these kind of events, then, where the core band get somewhat drowned out, their individual talents really shine here, and not just the twin frontmen, Droste and Rossen. It’s Chris Taylor, for instance, who provides the Frankie Valli falsetto on the ethereal doo-wop of “Knife”, in between multi-tasking on bass, flute, sax and shortwave radio. And it’s the bow-tied drummer, Chris Bear, dwarfing his compact kit, who turns out to be the evening’s musical scene-stealer, giving everything a roll, snap and swish that’s much jazzier than the records sometimes suggest. Bear is in his element on “Two Weeks”, one of two songs (the other being the other hit from “Veckatimest”, “While You Wait For The Others” – sung by Rossen rather than Michael McDonald, unfortunately) played by Grizzly Bear accompanied only by Muhly and the LSO’s harpist. The fact that these two receive more or less the biggest receptions of the night is probably due to familiarity more than the more parsimonious arrangements. But in a way, as conductor Jim Holmes leans on his podium centre-stage and looks on approvingly, they only heighten the extravagance of the evening. What audacious proflicacy, to hire all those musicians, and use them, relatively, so sparingly.

It perhaps says much about John Lennon – the callow 16-year old version, that is – that he’s really only a supporting character in his own biopic. This Lennon has yet to develop into the sardonic, quick-witted Beatle we know from interviews and newsreel footage. He’s not even quite the Lennon we saw in Ian Softley’s Backbeat, despite the events of that film taking place soon after Nowhere Boy finishes. The Lennon we get here is still half-boy – caught by director Sam Taylor Wood and screenwriter Matt Greenhalgh as he morphs from cheeky pupil at Liverpool’s Quarry Bank High School into lairy rock’n’roller. In this respect, Lennon here is potentially indistinguishable from a thousand other teenage lads – intent on getting drunk, getting laid and playing in a band. And – although we see both the formation of the Quarrymen and The Beatles’ departure for Hamburg – there are no prophetic flourishes here. Even Lennon’s initial meeting with Paul McCartney is admirably underplayed. In fact, this feels less like the story of the young John Lennon (Aaron Johnson) and more a study of two remarkably different women and the considerable influence they wield over him. These are his mother, Julia (Ann-Marie Duff), a reckless free spirit who relinquished control over her son when he was five, when he was subsequently raised by his aunt, Mimi (Kristin Scott-Thomas), for whom the way forward is a genteel, middle-class upbringing. As Lennon grows into rebellious adulthood, he rekindles his relationship with his mother – a potentially disastrous move on his part. Julia is, frankly, all over the shop – flirtatious, erratic and irresponsible – leaving Lennon equally besotted and confused by her behaviour. Certainly, of course, with the benefit of history we can see that without Julia’s influence we arguably wouldn’t have had The Beatles – and, by extension, the cultural history of the last 45 plus years. She may turn him onto rock’n’roll – and the world thanks her for that – but she’s a troublesome (and troubled) presence in his life. It’s to Greenhalgh’s credit, I think, that he keeps the film on an intimate scale. This is about the love triangle between John, Julia and Mimi. He’s not concerned with what will come – it’s a similar approach he took with his screenplay for Control, the Ian Curtis biopic. For her part, Taylor Wood seems to confirm a pattern established by Julian Schnabel and Steve McQueen of artists directing biopics. However, Taylor Wood’s film is nowhere near as experimental as either The Diving Bell And The Butterfly or Hunger were. She has a good eye for clear and straightforward storytelling. Aaron Johnson, making his debut here, does a fine job of pacing the part, considering he’s in every scene. But Nowhere Boy stands or falls by the performances of Julia and Mimi – and, inevitably, with Duff and Scott-Thomas Taylor Wood is blessed with two of the country’s best actresses. A pivotal scene – as Mimi and Julia spill family secrets – is electric. Nowhere Boy opens in the UK on December 25. You can see the trailer here