“Restrained” shouldn’t be the first word that comes to mind
when describing larger-than-life singer Elton John. But that’s exactly the
descriptor that came to me while watching director Dexter Fletcher’s
surprisingly timid and conventional rock-musical-biopic of the artist’s most
unconventional life.
The tagline
for “Rocketman” is “based on a true fantasy,” and the
concept of a musical fantasy at first seems to promise something truly
different. And Fletcher (who’s no stranger to the biopic genre, having
shepherded “Bohemian Rhapsody” across the finish line after Bryan Singer got
himself fired late into that film’s production) piles on enough spectacle to
match John’s flamboyant persona. Still, for all its extravagance and razzle
dazzle, the film never quite breaks free of the standard biopic formula.
In fact, the
only thing that distinguishes “Rocketman” from other
similar biopics is that it has the conviction to be a full-fledged musical,
with characters breaking into selections from Elton John’s enormous catalog of
hits even when they’re not on stage performing. This approach frees Lee Hall’s
screenplay from becoming a tedious, chronological point-by-point retelling of
the singer’s life.
It also
makes the film more resemble a Broadway musical — which isn’t a bad thing — and
technically saves some enterprising producer the trouble of adapting the script
when the film undoubtedly makes the transfer to the stage somewhere down the
line.
Fletcher
uses a boldly theatrical framing device, with John (appealingly played by Taron
Egerton) — clad in a sparkly orange, bellbottomed jumpsuit with devil horns,
massive, feathered wings, and glittery heart-shaped sunglasses — reflecting on
his life to members of his addiction recovery support group.
Born
Reginald Dwight, he was raised by a cold, absent father (Steven Makintosh) and an indifferent mother (Bryce Dallas Howard)
who were mostly content to leave him be, at least when they weren’t scolding
the boy for being “soft.”
From a young
age, John was a musical prodigy and, with some encouragement from his
supportive grandmother, qualifies for a scholarship to a prestigious music
academy. There, he cultivates his
talents by playing dive bars until a fateful meeting with lyricist Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell), who would go on to be his songwriting
partner for the next few decades. Together, the pair found massive success,
churning out hit after hit.
But the main
trouble is that all music biopics seem to follow the same path, and in that way
“Rocketman” is no different: An extraordinarily
gifted youth finds success, leading to sex, drugs, and alienation of those
closest to him, followed by rehab and a final redemption-comeback. Wash, rinse,
repeat.
While the
narrative may be strictly by the book, there are some wonderful musical
sequences throughout, including a lively rendition of “Honky Cat,” following
John and Reid as they live the high life in more ways than one, a kaleidoscopic
take on “Crocodile Rock,” John’s gravity-defying debut at LA club the
Troubadour.
Those
production numbers put us in the performer’s headspace, dramatizing the
singer’s twinned struggles with repressed sexuality and addiction, suggesting
that his over-the-top onstage persona was really a shield to hide who he really
was from the world, while simultaneously becoming an icon to millions. Even John’s
outrageous style and extravagant costumes — faithfully recreated by costume
designer Julian Day — were a means to combat his inherent shyness. John himself
was closely involved in the production of “Rocketman,”
and I suppose it’s a credit to him that the film doesn’t always paint a rosy
portrait of the singer in his younger years.
John’s
upbringing left him starved for affection, with a desperate need to be loved,
leading to a destructive relationship with manager-turned-lover John Reid (a
charming Richard Madden) who helped make John more at ease with his
homosexuality, but ended up wrenching control of his career. Interestingly, a
less malicious version of Reid also played a role in the narrative of “Bohemian
Rhapsody,” portrayed there by actor Aiden Gillen.
Egerton
pours his heart and soul into his performance, and it’s a testament to his
charisma and talent that the film works as well as it does. It’s a spirited,
lived-in portrayal. Egerton also does his own singing — not that that’s the
be-all, end-all of performances, but I appreciate the effort, and helps make
for a more fully-realized performance.
The film is
effective at illustrating the detrimental effect being closeted had on the
singer’s quest for happiness and his ability to find love and affection.
Thankfully “Rocketman” is not bashful about its
portrayal of John’s sexuality, and producers have been touting the fact that
it’s the first wide-release, major studio film to contain gay sex. But before
you get too hot and bothered, those scenes are still incredibly tame —
depicting the kind of sex that clearly would have squeaked by with a PG-13
rating if the couple having it were straight.
In the end,
I wanted as much garishness and audacious risk-taking from the narrative as the
film’s subject demonstrated throughout his life. After watching the film, some
of my viewing companions discussed what a filmmaker like Baz Luhrmann might
have done with the same material. Luhrmann is a filmmaker who knows how to
overwhelm the senses, his style veering fearlessly into excess — much like John
himself — in ways this film could have used more of.
Fletcher’s
direction too often feels overly concerned with being respectful. His is a
crowd-pleasing film, but one that clings to convention in a way that makes the
story feel that much more muted and small. It seems the makers of these biopics
feel the need to force artist’s lives to fit into the same predetermined box —
if occasionally a spectacularly decorated one — and the choice keeps this “Rocketman” decidedly earthbound.
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 4, 2019.
