Elton John biopic reaches stratospheric heights

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This article was published 31/05/2019 (2476 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Perhaps the grandest achievement of Rocketman — the freewheeling, fantastical new biopic of Elton John — is how much it makes you want to listen to Elton John.

In the year 2019, the 72-year-old British pop star, currently in the middle of his three-year final world tour (coming to Winnipeg Oct. 4), is firmly ensconced in the role of nostalgia act, with constant radio play over the years having turned many of his biggest hits into overly familiar background music.

The unconventional way Rocketman presents those early hits — reinterpreted, rearranged and injected with nervy energy — rejuvenates them and reminds listeners what a talented tunesmith he was.

When the marvellous Taron Egerton, in a role much more deserving of his charisma than last year’s dreadful Robin Hood, performs Crocodile Rock — which is no one’s favourite Elton John song, let’s be honest — at the Troubadour club in L.A. during his American debut, he literally levitates with elation, and the crowd is magically lifted off its feet as well. It’s a transcendent movie-musical moment that captures the kinetic force of a live show.

Rocketman isn’t concerned with realism or biography as much as it is with feeling. Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting sees a gig at the local pub by the teenage performer erupting into a full-on choreographed dance number on the streets of his Middlesex hometown; Rocketman is sung as duet between Elton and his younger self at the bottom of a pool during an attempt at suicide.

The film isn’t so unconventional that it fails to hit all the rock-biopic beats, however. Elton was born Reginald Dwight (he’s played by the adorable Matthew Illesley as a child) and grew up in grey ’50s England, the talented son of a cold, withholding father (Steven Mackintosh) and a disinterested mother (Bryce Dallas Howard). His ability to play piano by ear and the support of his Nan (Gemma Jones) finds him winning a music scholarship and then backing touring U.S. soul bands in small English venues.

When he meets lyricist Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell), creative sparks fly and soon the two are rocketed into the pop stratosphere, selling millions of records, making millions of dollars, and generally living the dream. But, as these movies always teach us, money can’t buy happiness. Elton’s increasingly elaborate costumes only serve to mask a deep well of insecurity; his situation is not helped by his business manager and lover John Reid (Richard Madden), a calculating viper who honed in early on Elton’s neediness.

The songs, mostly from the ’70s catalogue, are used in a variety of ways. Some tunes play on the soundtrack, others are performed in concert as part of the story of Elton’s meteoric rise. Sometimes they’re used in jukebox-musical format, with the characters singing them as if they were dialogue. The latter style shouldn’t really work — Taupin’s lyrics aren’t straightforwardly narrative enough — but the characters sell it with a combination of brio and sentiment.

The film will necessarily draw comparisons to last year’s Bohemian Rhapsody, and not just because they’re both about somewhat unlikely rock stars who hid their sexuality while adopting flamboyant stage presences. Dexter Fletcher, who helmed Rocketman, took over from director Bryan Singer after he was fired from the Queen biopic.

And like Rami Malek as Freddy Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody, the somewhat blandly handsome, strong-jawed Egerton is not an actor anyone would have thought of as a dead ringer for the singer he’s playing. Like Malek, he’s helped by some prosthetic teeth; with Elton’s gappy smile, it only takes a receding hairline and an endless array of spectacular spectacles help complete the transformation quite convincingly.

But Egerton’s performance goes beyond physical appearance and mimicry. First of all, he does his own singing and he’s great, capturing Elton’s tone without resorting to karaoke. And even when he’s strutting onto stage in a motley jester outfit with an ornate headdress to the cheers of thousands of fans, he lets you see the shy boy who’s always there, hiding under all the sequins.

Rocketman also neatly sidesteps the messy, inaccurate timeline issues that plagued Bohemian Rhapsody and angered fans by declining to set the action in any specific time. It moves forward from Elton’s youth to adulthood and his descent into alcoholism and despair, yes, but no onscreen titles announce the date, no album titles are ever mentioned and the songs aren’t presented in the order they were written. The whole thing is a swirling impression of a blurry, debaucherous time recalled by an older Elton who wants off the merry-go-round.

The downward spiral isn’t as much giddy fun as the ride to the top, of course, and the ending relies on pat “love yourself if you want to be loved” clichés, but when Rocketman is focused on the music, it’s a real joy ride.

jill.wilson@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @dedaumier