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ROCKETMAN (2019)
Director: Dexter Fletcher Cast: Taron Egerton, Jamie Bell, Richard Madden, Bryce Dallas Howard, Gemma Jones, Steven Mackintosh, Tom Bennett, Matthew Illesley, Kit Connor, Stephen Graham, Celinde Schoenmaker, Tate Donovan MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 2:01 Release Date: 5/31/19 |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | May 30, 2019 The character of Elton John enters Rocketman in a gaudy demon costume—a flame-decorated orange jumpsuit with wings on the back and a rhinestone-covered cap, complete with horns. He's quickly and forcefully walking down a hallway in slow-motion, while the unmistakable melody of "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" swells as an orchestral arrangement on the soundtrack. It's like something out of a dream, particularly when the man arrives at his destination—a group meeting for addicts—and especially when his turn to speak arrives. It's time to tell his story, and he does so the only way he knows how: by singing. There is nothing special about the structure of Lee Hall's screenplay in terms of biography, because the film simply follows the course of John's life by means of flashbacks. We see his childhood. We see his musical education, and we see him struggling to get his foot in the door of the music business. When he becomes famous, we see him struggling to keep that same foot outside the door, if only to maintain some semblance of humanity amidst the bright lights, the packed venues, the flashy costumes, the opportunistic parasites, and the oh-so-many temptations of sex and drugs that come with rock-and-roll. It's an old story and one that isn't unique to John's life and career. It is given new life, though, in the way that Hall and director Dexter Fletcher keep the tale's foundation squarely in the realm of John's music. The film is a musical—not in the way of so many musician biographies, in which the life story is interrupted by a recording session or a concert performance (sometimes after said musician has some revelation that leads directly into the song). That would be too simple, as would be just using recordings of John's music as an actor mouths along to them. No, the filmmakers have a different and all-together better idea about how to communicate the importance of music—and, obviously, John's own music—in the life of their subject. This is an old-fashioned musical, with big song-and-dance numbers and new arrangements of familiar hits, as well as a few deeper tracks, from John's decades-spanning catalogue, with no care if the appearance of those songs are chronologically accurate. The only time we hear John's actual voice in a song comes during the end credits, with a new tune written for the film. What's surprising is that we don't miss it. Part of that is because Taron Egerton, who plays John, sounds just enough like the celebrated singer/piano-man to convince us that we don't need to hear the real man's voice to feel the impact of the music. Egerton's performance is a marvel. That's not only because he plays the highs and lows of John's life with such joyous sincerity and such heart-breaking vulnerability, as he tries to cover up the pain with an audience-pleasing smile, but also because he isn't doing a mere impersonation when he sings. Egerton is singing for the moment, whether it be "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting" becoming an anthem for the freedom of an up-and-comer playing bar gigs or "Tiny Dancer" becoming a ballad of loneliness and longing at a party. The major reason we don't miss the real John's voice, though, is that we realize it would have been impossible for this film to use it. John's songs are vital to the story, but the filmmakers are smart enough to recognize that the songs themselves, not the person singing them, are what really matter. In having other people sing them, as solos and as booming chorus arrangements, the songs transcend the concept of radio hits. In marrying the music and the biographical tale with such care, the film transcends the gimmicky conceit of the jukebox musical, too. The film gives us these big numbers ("The Bitch Is Back" introduces Elton's suburban childhood in the 1950s, with faded-color background performers and the future star as a brightly colorful kid, and "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting" is an impressive one-take that goes from a bar fight, to a carnival, and back again) and these intimate solos (There's the isolation of "Tiny Dancer," sung while watching happy people mix and mingle at Mama Cass' house, as well as "Rocket Man" being transformed into a child serenading his adult self as the man nearly destroys himself). It also provides an intensely focused narrative about a sad, lonely, and promising kid named Reggie Dwight (played by Matthew Illesley and Kit Connor) becoming a sad, lonely, immensely talented, and self-destructive man named Elton John. As a kid, he's mostly ignored by his distracted mother Sheila (Bryce Dallas Howard) and his emotionally constipated father Stanley (Steven Mackintosh). It's his grandmother Ivy (Gemma Jones) who notices the boy's almost-preternatural ear for music. After playing some gigs at local pubs and with a soul band over the pond, a young record executive teams Elton, who borrowed his stage name from a bandmate, with Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell), a lyricist who needs some tunes to accompany his words. The two are instantly inseparable, and Elton is quick to compose Bernie's lyrics into full songs. Elton's fame brings plenty of challenges—from a leech of a manager/lover named John Reid (Richard Madden) to Elton's mounting fear that he's destined to be adored by fans but never loved as a person. His mother condemns him for being gay (Unlike so many mainstream stories about gay celebrities, this one never attempts to hide, downplay, or otherwise minimize John's sexuality). His father treats him as just some singer whom his new children love and whom he finds distasteful. John becomes controlling and abusive. To cope, Elton relies on alcohol and drugs. None of this—the pain, the emptiness, the devastation—is minimized by the film's musical mold. Indeed, some of these songs take on a new and enlightening context, whether intended by John and Taupin or not, with their juxtaposition against the events of John's life. The man's life, too, is elevated by the near-fantastical storytelling approach. Rocketman is no mere biography, and it's no mere musical. It's a man's life, seen as an alternately joyful and unsettling dream. Copyright © 2019 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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(for language throughout, some drug use and sexual content)
