Rocketman
A review by Paul A. Zuckerman

Several rock biopics have hit the theaters recently, with Rocketman following on the heels of last year’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Biopics have been around since near the dawn of motion pictures. Musical biopics have been around almost as long, ever since there was sound. Which makes sense since, after all, without the music, it wouldn’t be a musical, would it? And what’s the point of telling the story of a musician without the music?

One could say that the first full-length sound movie—the original Jazz Singer-was a biopic, though it’s not officially such. But it is about as biographically accurate for its star Al Jolson as was the official Jolson biopic, the Jolson Story, or its sequel, Jolson Sings Again (which, incidentally, is the only biopic sequel that I can think of).

The fact is that biopics often have only glancing resemblance to the actual lives being portrayed. Jolson’s story is a case in point. Nary a word about Ruby Keeler, his second wife. And, over the course of two movies, he’s only married twice, not four times.

Searching most biopics for the truth is about as fruitless as Diogenes’ search for an honest man. Take Cole Porter in Night and Day, for example. Not a word about him being gay. Did any of the events in the movie occur as depicted? Porter is reported to have said with satisfaction about the movie that none of it is true.

Times have changed and two recent biopics deal with gay stars coming out, a far cry from Night and Day. (The 2004 movie De-Lovely tells a more modern version of Porter’s story and deals with Porter’s gayness.)

But, are these movies any more accurate factually? Or is it the truthiness of the story that counts? Truthiness—Colbert’s concept of the quality of seeming or being felt to be true, even if not necessarily true—is an illusion of truth; what feels to be the truth, what feels as if it is true even if it is not.

Rocketman is told through flashback. Flashback generally makes the whole story more subjective —people see the truth through their own eyes, as Rashomon so clearly depicts--except, when it doesn’t. I mean, when George M. Cohan relates his life story to FDR in Yankee Doodle Dandy, it’s got to be the gospel truth, doesn’t it? Who would lie to the president of the United States, for gosh sakes!

In Rocketman, Elton relates his story in a group therapy rehab session. Right away, though, the truthfulness of the scene is suspect since Elton is still wearing one of his costumes, which, as the moviegoer eventually learns, is the one he wore the night he decided to enter rehab. Does that seem plausible? But, as the movie unfolds, Elton slowly sheds the costume as the layers of artifice are peeled back so that the real Reginald Dwight emerges. People invariably remember things in a way that makes them look more favorable, even when the things they do are not very nice. This story (and John is one of its executive producers) is Elton John’s truthiness of his life.

The framework of remembrance of things past allows the musical numbers in Rocketman to break free of any sense of realism and permits more creative use of music than in the more traditional Bohemian Rhapsody. The numbers are kinetic and jump with electricity and are unbound from literalness. Elton meets and interacts with his younger self, Reggie; the camera freezes the action to emphasis Elton’s highs of performing in public for the first time with a record under his belt. Songs are used to highlight and advance the story—a typical trope of musical biopics, while underlining the events even when they are out of the actual chronological order that the songs were recorded or released.

Every biopic needs the hero to overcome adversity. Cohan and Jolson overcome being has-beens; Porter overcomes a crippling injury that left him in pain for the rest of his life. The story would simply be boring without some adversity.

One could be forgiven if one thinks that one has seen this story before-and recently-because Rocketman has the misfortune of telling almost the same story as Bohemian Rhapsody. Both movies feature protagonists who are unappreciated by their families; are prodigies of a sort; are uncertain about their sexuality but find their gayness; are ripped off by managers/lovers; become addicted to all manners of substances; tosses away their friends; and wallow in self-pity. The main difference—and it’s a big one, particularly for Elton—is that Freddie dies (but not before overcoming all adversities) and Elton still lives (having overcome all adversities).

The evil manager/lover type is particularly trite—they are always slick and seductive; our heroes lose any sense of perspective around them (In Rocketman, Richard Madden, late of Game of Thrones, plays a particularly oily and seductive example of this class; from the first scene, he is dripping in sensuality and you know that Elton can’t keep his hands off of him; but also oozing sliminess). Ho hum. Within the limitation of the character, Madden does a fine job.

In Bohemian Rhapsody, Freddie Mercury has three bandmates who come back to him; here the band is nondescript and the only person who matters is John’s songwriting partner, Bernie Taupin, well-played by Jamie Bell. But the character isn’t really fleshed out. We don’t really learn much about Taupin other than he doesn’t feel “that” way about Elton but loves him; he can knock off lyrics without battering an eye; that he likes women; that he is always there. Oh, did we mention that he was straight? The movie seems to underline that point several times!

Mention should be made of Bryce Dallas Howard with a mostly thankless task playing the unlikable mom and Gemma Jones, as Elton’s grandmother, the only person (in the movie) to support Elton as a kid.

Taron Egerton has the tough job of becoming Elton John and he does. He even looks like John (though whenever they call Elton “fat”, you must imagine it because he surely isn’t). Egerton carries the movie, belting out the songs, depicting Elton John in all of his glorious costumes, energy and showmanship; you never feel as if he’s just “covering” Elton.

In the end, does anyone really care about truth in a musical biopic so long as the music sounds authentic—in other words, like the original. Because, at the end of the day, that is really what the movie is about-the music. And it always comes back, roaring loud.

And, as someone who overdosed on the same Elton John songs being played over and over again in rotation on rock stations over the last 40 years (except for Your Song, which remains my favorite Elton John song), the movie refreshes the music and gives new context to the songs.

June 13, 2019