TL;DR: The Beatles Anthology 2025 is the definitive version of an already essential documentary. Peter Jackson’s restoration makes the footage feel new, Giles Martin’s audio work breathes new life into every note, and the added episode delivers an emotional wallop that reframes the band’s legacy through a bittersweet, heartfelt lens. It’s long, dense, and utterly unforgettable—a must-watch for Beatles fans and one of the best music documentary restorations ever produced.

There are certain cultural artifacts I treat with the same reverence some people reserve for ancient relics or limited-edition Funko Pops. For me, The Beatles Anthology sits right up there with my original pressing of Abbey Road and the battered VHS copy of A Hard Day’s Night I practically wore thin as a kid. So when Disney+ announced a remastered, expanded, fully Jackson-fied restoration of the 1995 docu-monolith, I felt the familiar flutter in my chest—the kind you get right before watching the Millennium Falcon punch through hyperspace. I queued it up expecting nostalgia. What I didn’t expect was how emotional, rejuvenated, and genuinely revelatory this 2025 edition of The Beatles Anthology would feel.

This new restoration is pitched as the definitive way to experience the band’s story, and after spending nearly twelve hours strapped into this lovingly reconstructed time machine, I completely buy it. The Beatles have been enjoying a renaissance on Disney+ for years now—Get Back, the 1964 footage miracle, even the Let It Be remaster—and this release feels like the ultimate reward for the faithful. For anyone diving into The Beatles Anthology for the first time, this is the best possible doorway into the band’s mythology. And for those of us who know every camera angle of the original like muscle memory, this remaster feels like seeing an old friend step into the room after a long absence, looking healthier, warmer, and more alive than you remembered.

The Beatles Anthology was always a beast of a documentary—archival deep dives, sprawling interviews, home movies, studio banter, breakdowns, breakthroughs, and enough mop-topped charm to fill a dozen streaming libraries. But experiencing it after the Disney+ era of restorations is something else entirely. This isn’t nostalgia. It’s resurrection.

The Magical Mystery of Modern Restoration

I knew Peter Jackson’s Wingnut Films team could work miracles after Get Back, but I’m still stunned by how good The Beatles Anthology looks today. This is restoration sorcery at a molecular level, the digital equivalent of stripping centuries of grime off a priceless oil painting—except this one has John Lennon cracking jokes while tuning his Rickenbacker.

Because the original Anthology stitched together material from wildly inconsistent sources, the visual flow used to feel charmingly lumpy. Now it’s practically seamless. Early Hamburg footage? Crisp. Shea Stadium madness? Glorious. Even the backstage candid moments look like they were teleported out of a sealed archive rather than salvaged from 90s broadcast masters.

And I have to talk about the Shea Stadium restoration because it practically knocked me off the couch. I’ve watched that footage a hundred times in my life, but seeing it now—with clarity you’d expect from a modern concert film—gave me goosebumps. The argument for releasing the entire show in this new restored quality basically writes itself. And based on Disney’s recent habits, I wouldn’t be shocked if they’re already prepping it as a future drop. My wallet’s already weeping, but my ears are ready.

Speaking of ears: enter Giles Martin. If Jackson gives the Anthology its visual resurrection, Giles gives it its sonic soul. The Apple team’s machine-learning model—which can isolate vocals and instruments with uncanny precision—works beautifully here. Songs that once felt distant now hit with living presence, and archival dialogue that used to sound baked in static suddenly feels intimate. Hearing mid-60s Beatles session chatter with clarity this sharp is like eavesdropping through time.

The New Episode: A Love Letter, a Farewell, a Full-Circle Moment

And then there’s the new episode—the emotional crowning jewel of this restoration—that left me ugly-crying in a way I was absolutely not prepared for.

This added chapter focuses on Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr working in the 90s to finish three of John’s unreleased demos: Free As a Bird, Real Love, and the now-legendary Now And Then. Even if you’re the type who claims they don’t cry at music documentaries, trust me: this one will get you.

What makes this episode hit so hard isn’t just the music or the archival John moments—it’s watching the surviving Beatles interact in a way that feels unguarded and gently human. There’s no myth-making, no speeches, just three old friends trying to resurrect their bandmate’s voice with as much tenderness as technology allowed at the time. The way Paul lights up when he isolates one of John’s chord changes. The way George laughs as he remembers some absurd songwriting memory. The way Ringo watches them both with that eternal twinkle in his eye. These aren’t rock gods. They’re men who built something beautiful together and are trying—decades later—to honor what remains.

There’s one moment in particular where George confesses that working on the Anthology has helped heal wounds left from the band’s breakup. Then he says he wishes John could’ve been there to heal with them. That line hit me like a punch. Because you feel the weight of all the what-ifs, all the roads Lennon never had the chance to walk. Paul echoes that sentiment later, remarking that even though John isn’t there physically, he’s still a part of everything they’re doing. That’s the power of grief, legacy, music, and brotherhood all converging in one small, devastatingly human moment.

Watching that scene now, in 2025, is even heavier. We’ve since lost George Harrison. We’ve lost George Martin. And the last Beatles song, Now And Then, finally reached the world in finished form last year. The new episode makes the Anthology feel like a time capsule of creative spirits we can no longer speak to directly—but whose fingerprints remain all over the story.

A Restoration That Feels Like a Reunion

As I reached the end of this gargantuan re-release, I kept thinking about how the Anthology serves as a sort of moving photograph—something straight out of the Harry Potter universe—where the people we love are still alive inside the frame, still talking, still laughing, still jamming. This is a documentary about legacy, but also about time, and how it refuses to stay still. Watching Lennon’s grin, Harrison’s dry wit, George Martin’s gentle wisdom, you feel that ache of proximity and distance all at once.

The Beatles Anthology 2025 isn’t just a restoration. It’s a reunion. It’s a recalibration of the Beatles mythos using the best tools of our era. And it’s an emotional reminder that the world’s most important band wasn’t a machine but a messy, brilliant, funny, fragile collection of human beings who somehow created lightning in a bottle.

Disney+ is releasing it over three nights, beginning November 26, and honestly, I recommend treating it like an event. Dim the lights. Grab snacks. Wear the old concert tee. Let the nostalgia wash over you. Whether you’re a lifelong obsessive or a brand-new listener, this is essential viewing.