This cravenness can manifest in myriad fashion; a failure to examine its subject objectively, a narrative slavishly mired in chronology, or a depiction that is wrought from imitation as opposed to inspiration. Thus I am happy to report that, while imperfect, the musical Elton John story Rocketman struts boldly and unapologetically upon the screen, delighting in the excesses of the time it depicts and anchored by a truly fearless performance by Taron Egerton.
It's important to understand though, that this is not a film particularly concerned with reality in almost any context. This seems fair, given the film's tagline of "Based on a true fantasy." In addition to the standard liberties similar films take with time and place, there are quite a few scenes and relationships that differ significantly from the record, particularly when it comes to John's manager and lover John Reid.
Portrayed with a suave detachment by Richard Madden (Robb Stark from Game of Thrones), Reid comes off as much less affable here than he does in Bohemian Rhapsody (where he is played by another GoT alumnus, Aidan "Littlefinger" Gillen). In fact, the degree of charming sociopathy he is capable of makes me think they are on to something in considering him as a potential replacement for James Bond after Daniel Craig's final outing next year. More to the point, the movie gives no hint of the fact that Reid continued as John's manager for decades after they broke up romantically.
To be fair though, the movie's disregard for materiality is worn way out on its sleeve, presenting itself as a full book musical which I fully expect to see adapted for Broadway before too long. You would obviously expect to see some musical numbers in a movie about a rock star with 58 Billboard Top 40 hits, but not necessarily an elaborately choreographed dance number of "Saturday Night's Alright" set in a brilliantly costumed, period-perfect British funfair. While others may find them disagreeable, I found the brief ska and Bollywood flourishes in this song to be a delight, if perhaps anachronistic, and a wonderful way to depict a shy boy with a showman's verve coming of age while playing piano in a pub.
Like Bohemian Rhapsody, a picture like this rises or falls on the shoulders of its principal star, and Taron Egerton really delivers the goods. In addition to doing all his own dancing and singing, in his own voice and not an impersonation of Elton himself, Egerton leans into his character's sexuality and human flaws. Director Dexter Fletcher (go ahead and say that out loud, it's quite amusing) deserves a lot of credit for not following the mainstream cinema trope of two men kissing passionately and then quickly traversing to fluttering curtains or some such nonsense. Homophobes will be made to feel quite uncomfortable, but I believe that is rather the point (or perhaps just a bonus).
This transparency goes a long way into underpinning the tragic loneliness that largely defines the first half of Elton John's life, something articulated extremely well by Lee Hall's screenplay but made painfully accessible by Egerton's performance. From the dismissive manner in which he sends away his legendary songwriting partner Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell), through periods of lost introspection denoted in excruciatingly unforgiving closeups, and eventually to awkward attempts to reconnect with his parents, Egerton brings a humanity and relevance to his portrayal of a truly larger-than-life figure, playing up his gifts and foibles in equal measure, and his voice is awfully good as well.
I should also commend Rocketman's commitment to depicting the period, and not just in regards to costuming (which I fully expect to garner an Oscar nomination for). There is a brilliant shot of Sunset Boulevard, taken from a high angle and encompassing at least three city blocks, and I marvelled at the dozens of non-descript vehicles and '70s ads for things like Kool cigarettes, wondering how they managed to pull it off. It turns out that they took stock footage, digitally cleaned it up and matched it for lighting and inserted it into the print just so, firmly establishing the time and place in a way that no chroma-keyed billboard and street-level shot out a car window could never hope to equal.
As a fantasy musical biopic, Rocketman is without peer, largely since I believe it invented the genre this past weekend. The four of us had a great time at it, and so long as you can begrudge a little latitude to reality, fans of Elton John should not miss it.
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