Beatles Biopic Drama: Actress Admits, “I Couldn’t Name Them All!”

Mia Reynolds, 12/31/2025Mia McKenna-Bruce, cast as Ringo's first wife in a new Beatles biopic, confesses her lack of Beatles knowledge, sparking discussions on generational music amnesia. As the film explores the band's legacy, it highlights the importance of rediscovering icons through fresh perspectives, proving that old music can feel new again.

There’s a curious comedy in that. Picture it: cast as Maureen Starkey, Ringo’s first wife, yet sidestepping Beatles trivia like someone who’s missed the memo on which Gibb brother sang what. During a chat with *Tatler*, Mia admits, “We sang Eleanor Rigby and Yellow Submarine at school, but it wasn’t my jam.” The casualness with which she confesses, “Martin [Freeman] was quizzing me on set—‘What band was Mick Jagger in?’—Honestly? I had no clue,” seems both endearing and unintentionally subversive, as if she’d claimed never to have tried a full English breakfast.

But here's the crux—Mia’s not alone. Generational amnesia reorders the pop music pantheon; the Beatles, despite their mythic glow, routinely slip off the radar, only to be “rediscovered” in waves. Vinyl may be hip again in 2025, but so is a certain willful unfamiliarity with icons presumed universal. Instead, it turns out, each era cracks open the Beatles’ story on its own terms, with newcomers approaching old gold as if picking a lock for the very first time.

McKenna-Bruce isn’t some blank slate, though. British telly regular—*Holby City*, *EastEnders*, *The Dumping Ground*—and especially visible in the indie favorite *How to Have Sex*. A solid career, for sure. Nothing about it quite hinted she’d land in a Beatles biopic, yet here she is, tasked with bringing Maureen Starkey to life—Ringo’s first love, hairdresser from Liverpool, swept up in the maelstrom. “I haven’t met Ringo,” Mia shares, “but apparently, when he talks about Maureen, there’s still a sparkle. She kept him grounded.” History paints Maureen’s life in bold, sometimes brutal, brushstrokes: teenage romance, marriage to the “funny Beatle,” three children, heartbreak (Ringo’s alcoholism and affairs), and, somehow, reinvention beyond divorce—ending with a bittersweet chapter, married to Hard Rock Café co-founder Isaac Tigrett, and Ringo at her side as she passed, not yet fifty.

Getting Maureen right—making her “warm and human,” as Mia puts it—demands more than a Wikipedia scan. She’s digging beneath the headlines, clearly itching to honor Maureen’s spirit, not just her scandals. For a woman once reduced to a footnote, such attention feels a bit radical.

Meanwhile, Sam Mendes rolls out his four-in-one cinematic dare: separate films, each told through the eyes of a different Beatle. Harris Dickinson pulls Lennon’s round glasses over his nose, Paul Mescal harnesses McCartney’s charisma, Joseph Quinn slips into Harrison’s hush, and Barry Keoghan adds a dash of melancholy to Ringo. Supporting roles—Saoirse Ronan as Linda McCartney, Anna Sawai as Yoko, Aimee Lou Wood as Pattie Boyd—hint at an ensemble with genuine range. Some say it’s audacious, others just shake their heads—why fix what ain’t broke? Yet, perhaps that’s exactly what’s needed to jolt the Beatles back into fresh conversation; tell it again, but sideways.

Still, it isn’t just a cinematic tug-of-war going on. In a recent conversation, Sean Ono Lennon didn’t hide his anxiety about legacy fade. “I’m just doing my best to help make sure the younger generation doesn’t forget about The Beatles and John and Yoko,” he admitted. There’s a creeping sense, even for him, that forgetting is possible—maybe even likely. And then there’s this—love (not marketing, not nostalgia) is the engine that keeps these stories alive, or so he claims.

What’s odd—and sort of wonderful—is how Mia’s late-arriving fandom mirrors the road for so many. Her “Oh my God, The Beatles are underrated!” epiphany wouldn’t look out of place on any number of TikTok reaction videos. Suddenly she’s listening to them on the train, grinning. There’s a kind of harmless irony here: cinema’s freshest Beatles ambassador, only recently able to pass a basic band-member pop quiz—reminding everyone that what’s old isn’t inevitably old hat.

That, in its own right, is the heart of Mendes’ gamble, as well as Mia’s bright-eyed turn as Maureen: preserving the Beatles isn’t about locking their legend away in some flawless vault. It’s about letting each new voice sing these songs back into the light—and accepting, with a wink, that the words might be stumbled over, at least the first time around. With the films set to debut just as the Beatles’ story enters its eighth decade of reinvention, perhaps it’s time to let rediscovery become a feature, not a bug, of what it means to be legendary.

In the end, as the cameras start rolling and Mia McKenna-Bruce tries Maureen’s shoes—maybe a little tentatively, maybe not—it’s proof enough that the Beatles still have tricks up their sleeve. Old songs, made new. And isn’t that a story worth retelling, however out of tune the first verse may be?

Every so often, the world dusts off its Beatles records, spins them for a generation that never saw a mop-top haircut in motion, then acts surprised when not everyone hums along from memory. Enter Mia McKenna-Bruce—28, British, quick-witted—catapulted into the wild chromatic swirl of Sam Mendes’ quad-part Beatles biopic, and unwitting keeper of a not-so-minor secret: she couldn’t quite recall all four Beatles’ names, and as for Mick Jagger’s band? Draw a blank.There’s a curious comedy in that. Picture it: cast as Maureen Starkey, Ringo’s first wife, yet sidestepping Beatles trivia like someone who’s missed the memo on which Gibb brother sang what. During a chat with *Tatler*, Mia admits, “We sang Eleanor Rigby and Yellow Submarine at school, but it wasn’t my jam.” The casualness with which she confesses, “Martin [Freeman] was quizzing me on set—‘What band was Mick Jagger in?’—Honestly? I had no clue,” seems both endearing and unintentionally subversive, as if she’d claimed never to have tried a full English breakfast.But here's the crux—Mia’s not alone. Generational amnesia reorders the pop music pantheon; the Beatles, despite their mythic glow, routinely slip off the radar, only to be “rediscovered” in waves. Vinyl may be hip again in 2025, but so is a certain willful unfamiliarity with icons presumed universal. Instead, it turns out, each era cracks open the Beatles’ story on its own terms, with newcomers approaching old gold as if picking a lock for the very first time.McKenna-Bruce isn’t some blank slate, though. British telly regular—*Holby City*, *EastEnders*, *The Dumping Ground*—and especially visible in the indie favorite *How to Have Sex*. A solid career, for sure. Nothing about it quite hinted she’d land in a Beatles biopic, yet here she is, tasked with bringing Maureen Starkey to life—Ringo’s first love, hairdresser from Liverpool, swept up in the maelstrom. “I haven’t met Ringo,” Mia shares, “but apparently, when he talks about Maureen, there’s still a sparkle. She kept him grounded.” History paints Maureen’s life in bold, sometimes brutal, brushstrokes: teenage romance, marriage to the “funny Beatle,” three children, heartbreak (Ringo’s alcoholism and affairs), and, somehow, reinvention beyond divorce—ending with a bittersweet chapter, married to Hard Rock Café co-founder Isaac Tigrett, and Ringo at her side as she passed, not yet fifty.Getting Maureen right—making her “warm and human,” as Mia puts it—demands more than a Wikipedia scan. She’s digging beneath the headlines, clearly itching to honor Maureen’s spirit, not just her scandals. For a woman once reduced to a footnote, such attention feels a bit radical.Meanwhile, Sam Mendes rolls out his four-in-one cinematic dare: separate films, each told through the eyes of a different Beatle. Harris Dickinson pulls Lennon’s round glasses over his nose, Paul Mescal harnesses McCartney’s charisma, Joseph Quinn slips into Harrison’s hush, and Barry Keoghan adds a dash of melancholy to Ringo. Supporting roles—Saoirse Ronan as Linda McCartney, Anna Sawai as Yoko, Aimee Lou Wood as Pattie Boyd—hint at an ensemble with genuine range. Some say it’s audacious, others just shake their heads—why fix what ain’t broke? Yet, perhaps that’s exactly what’s needed to jolt the Beatles back into fresh conversation; tell it again, but sideways.Still, it isn’t just a cinematic tug-of-war going on. In a recent conversation, Sean Ono Lennon didn’t hide his anxiety about legacy fade. “I’m just doing my best to help make sure the younger generation doesn’t forget about The Beatles and John and Yoko,” he admitted. There’s a creeping sense, even for him, that forgetting is possible—maybe even likely. And then there’s this—love (not marketing, not nostalgia) is the engine that keeps these stories alive, or so he claims.What’s odd—and sort of wonderful—is how Mia’s late-arriving fandom mirrors the road for so many. Her “Oh my God, The Beatles are underrated!” epiphany wouldn’t look out of place on any number of TikTok reaction videos. Suddenly she’s listening to them on the train, grinning. There’s a kind of harmless irony here: cinema’s freshest Beatles ambassador, only recently able to pass a basic band-member pop quiz—reminding everyone that what’s old isn’t inevitably old hat.That, in its own right, is the heart of Mendes’ gamble, as well as Mia’s bright-eyed turn as Maureen: preserving the Beatles isn’t about locking their legend away in some flawless vault. It’s about letting each new voice sing these songs back into the light—and accepting, with a wink, that the words might be stumbled over, at least the first time around. With the films set to debut just as the Beatles’ story enters its eighth decade of reinvention, perhaps it’s time to let rediscovery become a feature, not a bug, of what it means to be legendary.In the end, as the cameras start rolling and Mia McKenna-Bruce tries Maureen’s shoes—maybe a little tentatively, maybe not—it’s proof enough that the Beatles still have tricks up their sleeve. Old songs, made new. And isn’t that a story worth retelling, however out of tune the first verse may be?