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Your thoughts on Baz Luhrmann’s elvis depends largely on what you think of Baz Luhrmann’s signature glittery maximalism. The hypercaffeinated build-up section alone — even before Austin Butler’s agile hips start doing their jerky thing when Elvis Presley takes the stage to perform “Heartbreak Hotel” in a rockabilly-chic pink suit — has you dizzying with its frenetic blast from searing colors, split screen, retro graphics and more edits per scene than the human eye can count. Add in the multi-layered, deafening sound design and that’s Baz times a bazillion.
When the text too rarely matches the stunning visual impact, the affinity the director feels for his showman subject is both contagious and draining. Luhrmann’s penchant for poperic spectacle is evident across the board, resulting in a film that exults in moments of high melodrama as well as theatrical device and energetically entertaining performance.
elvis
The final result
A piece, a piece of burning spectacle.
As for the big question of whether Butler would manage to pose as one of the most indelible icons in American pop culture history, the answer is an unqualified yes. His stage moves are sexy and hypnotic, his melancholy lost mama’s boy quality swoons, and he captures the tragic paradox of a phenomenal success story that tenaciously clings to the American dream even as it keeps crumbling in his hands.
But the heart of this biopic is spoiled, thanks to a script whose choppy, patchwork feel perhaps directly correlates to its complicated billing — by Baz Luhrmann & Sam Bromell and Baz Luhrmann & Craig Pearce and Jeremy Doner; Story by Baz Luhrmann and Jeremy Doner. This bite suggests a mix of different versions, although the big hurdle is the off-putting character directing the narrative, creating a hole in the middle.
That would be “Colonel” Tom Parker, played by Tom Hanks in arguably the least appealing performance of his career — a creepy, button-eyed grin beneath a mountain of latex, with a raspy, unidentifiable accent that doesn’t get any less bewildering after The Sombre the character’s Dutch origin was revealed. It is a great risk to tell your story through the prism of a morally repugnant egoist, a financial abuser who used his manipulative skills as a carnival hooter to control and exploit his vulnerable star attraction, driving him to the point of exhaustion and giving him an outsized chunk of his life deprived merits.
Each time the plot returns to Hanks’ Parker near the end of his life, he belies his designated role as the villain of the story of a Las Vegas casino, where he racked up gambling debts that necessitated keeping Elvis under a lucrative International Hotel residency contract to hold – The film falters. As depicted here and elsewhere, Parker was a self-serving con man who monopolized the star’s artistic and personal freedom and now monopolizes the retelling of his life. elvis The film works better when Elvis the Man is a creation of ringmaster Luhrmann’s fevered imagination than when Parker keeps popping up to remind us, “I made Elvis Presley.”
The subject’s musical upbringing is illustrated in pleasantly flowery Southern Gothic style as young Elvis (Chaydon Jay) grows up in Tupelo, Mississippi and moves to a poor black neighborhood after his father Vernon (Richard Roxburgh) was briefly imprisoned for losing a passport bad check.
Observing through the cracks in the walls of juke joints or under the tent flaps of Holy Roller revival meetings, Elvis absorbs influences that would allow him to fuse bluegrass with R&B, gospel and country to create a sound unheard of from a white singer. In an amusingly wild flourish, the roots of the “lewd twists,” which would inflame shrieking fans and conservative watchdogs in their respective ways, are traced to the boy being physically possessed by the spirit during a church service.
Like they did The Great Gatsby and elsewhere, Luhrmann and longtime music executive Anton Monsted freely mix contemporary and contemporary tunes when teenage Elvis, whose family has since moved to Memphis, starts hanging out on Beale Street, where he meets young BB King (Kelvin Harrison Jr. ) befriended. and excited to the gospel sounds of Sister Rosetta Tharpe (English musician Yola). Given that Elvis’s vocal style draws from multiple inspirations, it makes sense to weave hip-hop and Elvis covers into the soundtrack from a variety of artists.
Elvis was originally recruited by the Colonel to join a bill led by country singer Hank Snow (David Wenham) and his son Jimmie Rodgers Snow (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Soon, Elvis becomes the headliner, and Hank resigns, concerned his Christian family will be listening and blanch at Presley’s pagan hip swing. But Elvis’ devoted mother, Gladys (Helen Thomson), who calms his nerves like no other, assures her son, “The way you sing is God given, so there can be nothing wrong with it.”
The rapid editing of editors Matt Villa and Jonathan Redmond allows Luhrmann to whip through the meteoric rise in popularity, landing an RCA record deal, and the overarching threat of the political morality police all at once. Parker keeps the Presley family on side by making Vernon his son’s business manager, albeit without much influence or responsibility. Meanwhile, one of Elvis’ bandmates slips him a pill “to get the momentum going again” along the way, setting in motion an addiction that was known to multiply in later years.
Segregation rallies with alarming warnings of “Africanized culture” and “crimes of lust and perversion” target Presley, and television appearances begin on a “no shake” stipulation. But Elvis fans don’t opt for the cleaned up, stripped down version; They want the excitement and danger that makes female fans throw their underwear on stage. When Elvis gives them what they want, the Colonel fears he’s losing control of his meal menu, so he maneuvers to have him shipped out for service in the US Army in 1958 to revamp his image. Elvis blames his absence for his mother’s increased drinking and subsequent death, and yet Parker’s influence on him is too strong to shake him.
By this point it’s clear that the Colonel, while aggressively pushing himself forward as Elvis’ protector, shows little to no genuine affection for his star client, viewing him merely as a source of income. With Gladys gone, it leaves an emotional void around the title character that, while lifelike, robs the film of immediacy. Even his marriage to Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge) doesn’t do enough to keep Elvis away, while Luhrmann should draw us closer.
Too often Luhrmann constructs sequences as isolated vignettes rather than as part of a continuous flow of narrative, for example a romantic montage of Elvis and Priscilla in Germany during his military service, which Kasey Musgraves supplements with a pretty flimsy cover of Can’t Help Sich Falling in love.” The sequence is sweet and dreamy, but it’s no substitute for getting to know Priscilla, a thinly drawn character beneath the hairstyles and gorgeous fashions.
The plot sprints through the rise and fall of Elvis’ film career without stopping (sadly no portrayal of Ann-Margret), but finds juicy details in NBC’s 1968 comeback special. It was produced by Parker as a family Christmas special and fresh merchandise -Way designed for nerdy sweaters. But Elvis’ frustration with his career decline prompts him to take the advice of his old friend Jerry Schilling (Luke Bracey) and revise it on his own terms, angering Parker and the show’s sponsors at Singer.
Director Steve Binder (Dacre Montgomery) reshapes the special, putting Elvis on a small stage surrounded by a television audience. The raw rock ‘n’ roll set affirms Elvis’ influential place in American pop music while risking obsolescence. The recreated production numbers are a smash, featuring a gospel choir, “Ballhaus” dancers and kung fu fighters. Elvis also shrugs off the Colonel’s insistence on closing with “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” and instead plays the original protest song “If I Can Dream,” which resonates powerfully just two months after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr .
The attention given to it elvis on the ’68 special suggests how much brighter Presley’s star could have burned if he’d gotten out of Parker’s control more often. But when he tries to break free, the Colonel persuades him to commit to $5 million a year in Vegas for five years, blocking the international touring schedule of members of the management team, who actually seem to have his welfare in mind. Parker’s puppet show is apparently not just about his gambling debts, but also his undocumented status in the US, which would have been exposed had he left the country.
Of course, this is ultimately a tragedy, and another filmmaker less consumed by the size and brassiness of his company might have dug deeper into the pathos. But there are touching moments, particularly in Butler’s performance as he morphs into the bloated, sweaty Elvis of his last years (thankfully his prosthetics are less of an eyesore than Hanks’), his marriage to Priscilla unraveling, and heartache for both of them.
One might wish for a biopic with more access to the subject’s bruised, bleeding heart, but in terms of capturing the essence of what made Presley such a supernova, elvis does a lot of things right.
The live performance sequences are electrifying, captured by cinematographer Mandy Walker with sweeping movements to match Presley’s dynamic physicality and with intimacy to capture the melted emotion he poured into his songs. The bold use of color and lighting is striking. The same goes for the production design by Luhrmann’s wife and longtime collaborator Catherine Martin and Karen Murphy; as well as Martin’s absolutely fabulous costumes.
Luhrmann is often criticized for shaping material to serve his style rather than refining his style to suit the material. Many will dismiss this film’s unrelenting extravagance as a bombastic Baz in ADHD overdrive, a work of shimmering surfaces that refuses to linger long enough to get under its subject’s skin. But as a tribute from one master of outrageous showmanship to another, it dazzles.
