'Meet Me In The Bathroom' Relives The 2000s Indie Rock Boom
I’ve been to many concerts this year. Luckily, I've been able to see some of my all-time favorite bands: The Strokes, LCD Soundsystem, and Interpol. Not only are they all still together but they’re still touring, and continuing to make new music. This is especially impressive when you consider that they all started out in the early 2000s, and did so while they were just in their early twenties. Born out of a truly independent music scene and looking for a new scene in rock, these bands–as well as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and others–would create a new wave of rock music, which is captured in the new documentary Meet Me In The Bathroom.
Released by Utopia, Meet Me In The Bathroom chronicles the rise of this indie rock scene and its lasting influence on the music scene today. It's based on the 2017 oral history book of the same name by Lizzy Goodman. The film combines interviews with everyone who was there to tell the story of the scene in their own words.
It’s a fascinating read (did I mention I’m an enormous fan of all of these bands and music?). Directors Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern (who co-directed the LCD Soundsystem concert doc Shut Up and Play The Hits) bring a similarly direct approach to telling the story, by way of using entirely archival footage.
The look of the film–all VHS “home movie-Esque” record footage–lends nostalgia to the feelings, of traveling back in time. There are no modern-day interviews, which feels totally transportive to the era. With incredible never-before-seen footage, we see what it was like to live in New York City. A city on the cusp of the new millennium, pre-internet, and pre-9/11.
As the doc shows, a few bands–looking for a new kind of rock music–emerged with a “new cool” rock aesthetic. The Moldy Peaches, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and the band that would single-handedly explode the scene–The Strokes–all changed music history. After the Strokes’ overnight success, new bands were born: Interpol, TV On The Radio, and later, LCD Soundsystem.
The footage of these bands from some of their earliest shows is incredible to see. You get to see them at their very beginnings here. Karen O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Paul Banks of Interpol introduce themselves to the camera for the first time. They play songs in small clubs like the lower east side Mercury Lounge. And it's all incredible footage for fans to see.
Meet Me in the Bathroom also shows the larger, pivotal moments in New York history: Y2K; the rise of the internet, and Napster, to which some bands started losing money to the free pirating program. And then, of course, the attacks on the World Trade Center. That footage is so raw and horrifying that it’s devastating to watch at times. It would, of course, have a major effect on them all.
Ultimately, the thing that comes across so prominently now is these young people’s aspiration to be tomorrow’s next rock stars appears to be born out of a need for acceptance. While brilliant musicians and artists, Julian Casablancas (The Strokes), Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeahs), and Jame Murphy's (LCD Soundsystem) desire for rock stardom mask a seemingly large insecurity they had as younger people. It’s saddening to witness how corporate record labels and commercialism started to affect them on their rise to fame.
Meet Me In The Bathroom is full of nostalgia and exceptionally amazing moments, and I hope will turn more people on to this music. It’s a trip down memory lane that chronicles rock and roll and youth. It could just also inspire the next great wave of rockers and artists.
1h 45min. ‘Meet Me in the Bathroom’ is now playing in select Los Angeles and New York theaters.
Aftersun
There is a heartbreaking recognition that Aftersun confronts us with: even the best moments of our lives are temporary. Eventually, they will pass and become memories.
Aftersun takes place during a week-long vacation between Sophie (Frankie Corio) and her young dad, Calum (Paul Mescal). Set in a sunny Turkish beach town (more specifically, at a modest resort that the young dad can afford), Aftersun shows the simple yet important moments that also suggest the start of a pivotal time of coming-of-age.
The small, overlooked moments between parent and child–such as having your sunscreen rubbed in at the pool, lazily hanging around the hotel room, and snickering together throughout cheesy dinner shows–are rendered with incredible observation and an authentic heart that is emotionally moving.
The entirety of the film is naturalistic, unflashy, and full of warmth, due in large part to the nostalgia of the '90s time period. We return to the pre-cell phone, pre-digital distraction age (of which my own childhood vacations also took place).
The special bond that Sophie and Calum have can unmistakably be attributed to their shared youth. She's eleven, he's thirty-ish–somewhere between a child and an adult himself (his arm cast might imply that he too might still have some growing up to do). Sophie's young maturity and Calum's natural playfulness create an incredibly close relationship. They are each other's worlds.
However, through subtle storytelling, we soon feel a psychic disturbance that this idyllic vacation may be covering a deeper conflict. Early on, Sophie grimaces while seeing Calum's "weird ninja moves," but his Tai Chi practice–photographed more saddeningly later on–suggests that he's struggling to tamp down an inner conflict that Sophie isn't aware of, and too young to be to understand anyways.
As days pass and the vacation starts to reach its inevitable end, Calum–as if anticipating something we're not aware of–becomes increasingly unsteady. We're left hoping for the best despite the red flags, but the optimism is hard to sustain, especially in the film's final shot. I'll proceed without going into further detail, as I found that Aftersun's emotional impact comes from the slow reveals.
Bringing this story to the screen is first-time feature filmmaker Charlotte Wells. This directorial debut is such an impressive accomplishment, as it's easily one of my favorite films of the year. Wells' natural ability to capture and realize profoundly small moments also makes sense when you consider that Aftersun was inspired by her own childhood. The act of rendering a troubled past onto the big screen reminded me of Johanna Hogg's The Souvenir, another emotionally wrought and devastatingly personal film.
One of the best parts of the film is Wells' choice to weave in the recorded home video footage that Sophie takes throughout the trip. The grainy, shaky handheld footage of Sophie–face covering the screen–makes for a sense of present and past all at once; as if we're both experiencing their vacation in real-time, as well as watching it as a memory.
As Sophie gets ready to board the plane back home to stay with her mother, Calum uses his camcorder to capture the last few moments he has with his daughter. He records Sophie waving goodbye, and can't help himself from rewinding, fast-forwarding, and replaying that moment as soon as she leaves his line of vision. It's heartbreaking. There's an ambiguousness to what might have happened following that.
Aftersun creates incredible depth in showing just how impactful the subtle moments between a parent and child can be. Understanding that although moments don't last, no matter how badly we wish we could pause time, there is a sense of optimism when we realize that we'll always have the ability to keep those memories alive.
1h 42min. 'Aftersun' is rated R for some language and brief sexual material.
God's Creatures
God's Creatures, the new film from distributor A24, is a finely made, emotionally affecting work. By its end, you will be quietly shaken to your core. The patience and restraint with which co-directors Anna Rose Holmer and Saela Davis (The Fits) use in divulging its small plot's dramatics make for an impactful ending that will force you to confront both your personal ethics and your place within the larger world.
Related: 'The Fits' Proves That Creativity in the Film Industry is Not Dead
Stormy Clouds Ahead
The story takes place on the Irish coast. Constantly cloud-filled skies and stormy seas make for tough living conditions. It's what gives the townspeople their steadfast resolve to face life's many harsh realities.
These blue-collar workers–all of whom either fish the open seas or clean that day's catches–are tough. They're without many words, quietly committed to the immediacy of the job at hand.
Sharing small-town gossip or a cigarette break provides simple relief from an otherwise droll day. Maybe singing a traditional Irish song or having a pint or two after work.
The flip side of this life is the danger that's also near. An unexpected sea change at any moment can claim the life of any unsuspecting fisherman. Call it hazards of the job.
The relentless, merciless routines of life are what keep these people–and generations of families– humble, as well as religiously devout (cross-holding Catholics). You know your place in life and live out the joylessly familiar, unchanging seasons that always repeat.
That is, until whispers of an allegedly shocking event in the community begin to transpire, which slowly frays the fabric of everyone's lives forever.
A Slowly Unfurling Story
God's Creatures has a fairly simple plot. When a mother's (Emily Watson) son (Paul Mescal) unexpectedly comes home after many years away, only to coincide with new rumors of a supposedly dark event that took place, Aileen (Watson) reckons with protecting her son or the acknowledging of a possibly dark truth.
Without giving away any details of the act in question (which the movie mysteriously teases), the film takes us on an emotional journey that tracks the stress of guilt on Aileen's soul, as she struggles to feign ignorance of stories that make Brian (Mescal) out to be a perpetrator of a gruesome act.
Conversations that once flowed cheerfully between Aileen and her colleagues at the fishery grow short and sparse. Soon, silences and purposefully diverted eyes begin to ostracize Aileen, making for a tense emotional journey that grows heavier as the film goes on.
It's a plot that may be simple in structure, but the way that co-directors Holmer and Davis tell it is very impressive. The measured way in which information is slowly learned–ultimately revealing a picture that grows unnervingly clearer (aligning with the inevitable weakening of Aileen's own chosen ignorance)–is excellent filmmaking.
Moreover, connecting the small human drama to the larger universal level is where the film reaches another point of acclaim. Credit editors Jeanne Applegate and Julia Bloch for attuning the audience's senses to the rhythms of life, where imagery of a bottomless sea feels suffocating, and the windswept swaying of seagulls in the sky show what freedom and relief must feel like.
God-fearing Creatures
Starring in the film are Emily Watson (born and raised in London), and Paul Mescal (an Ireland native), who here play a mother and son. Both are exceptionally fine actors, able to convey cavernously deep emotional inner depths.
Watson is the film's central character and the film's emotional center. The story's suspense essentially hinges on Waton's face, in which we know where we're at in the movie by the emotions she chooses to hide and reveal. Watson's performance is exceptional.
Mescal–whose work I personally haven't been too familiar with (no, I haven't yet watched the acclaimed series Normal People)–is quickly proving to be a star in this "A24 indie drama" space. It's thrilling that Mescal's talents align with his interest in being in more serious, smaller arthouse fare (he also captivated me in the soon-to-be-released drama, Aftersun).
There's one person I haven't mentioned yet, and she's who actually cements the entire film. And that's Aisling Franciosi, who here plays Sarah Murphy. While Watson and Mescal convey mysterious uncertainties with their performances, Franciosi's performance–that of a young woman who is allegedly assaulted–is the most wide-ranging. She inhabits every part of this young, pure-hearted small-town girl, whose singing voice feels like a sliver of beauty and hope; a port in an otherwise dark storm.
Directors Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer have succeeded in their second feature film, God's Creatures, connecting a small human drama to the larger forces of life. In the end, the takeaway is two-fold: we see how painful and harrowing life can be. But sometimes, if we're able to survive and confront our personal storms, we can write ourselves a new life.
1h 40m. 'God's Creatures' is rated R for language.
'Don’t Worry Darling': A Stylish, Massively Underwhelming Misfire
If you keep up with news of the latest movies–or that of Harry Styles–chances are that you’ve also heard about the new movie Don’t Worry Darling. And if you have, what you’ve also likely heard are the tabloid-worthy headlines detailing its alleged production woes.
Controversy has followed Don’t Worry Darling since the beginning. From high-profile casting shake-ups shortly before the film’s shooting, to a scandalous on-set romance between the film’s director and its leading male (global pop) star, even up until its cringe-worthy world premiere at Venice Film Festival (which set the internet ablaze with #spitgate), perhaps no other movie in recent memory has generated as much gossipy and salacious drama as this has.
And now, as the film finally hits theaters, the question becomes: is the film actually any good?
What general audiences seem to agree–and what this reviewer is personally confirming–is that no, Don’t Worry Darling is not good enough to transcend its own self-generated scandalous fodder. While I found the film to be visually enjoyable, ultimately, it's under-written, poorly directed, narratively underwhelming, and overall quite boring. Audiences are likely to only remember Don't Worry Darling as a misfire that also stirred a lot of supplemental controversy.
It doesn’t bring me any inner delight saying this. In fact, I anticipated the film’s release at the time of its announcement. It's true that there are a ton of talent both in front of and behind the camera. Olivia Wilde had previously won over audiences (and myself) with her directorial debut, the fresh and fun high school buddy comedy Booksmart; so the announcement that she would be following that film with one that’s best compared to The Stepford Wives and The Matrix was intriguing. But now, that choice just rings as confusing.
If you’re aware of its marketing, Don’t Worry Darling teases a world of 1950s American utopia; one in which sharply dressed men return home from work every day in their flashy Cadillacs, all awaiting a martini, a pot roast, and a smile from their doting, subservient wives. It's an intoxicating Mid-Century Modern world to behold where young couples and families live in marital bliss. Among them is Alice (Florence Pugh), who enjoys her life of cleaning, cooking, and bedding her husband Jack (Harry Styles).
It’s not long before inexplicable cracks start to appear in Alice’s life. Flashes of nightmarish imagery break a perfectly manicured day; cracking an egg reveals nothing inside; and a house whose walls are slowly–literally–suffocating her. It slowly leads Alice to question her life as well as the vision of Victory’s dangerously charismatic leader, Frank (Chris Pine). From there, the film takes predictable steps towards a simultaneously baffling and underwhelming ending.
Don’t Worry Darling at least has the intention of being a high-concept film, aiming to excite and challenge adult movie-goers. But ultimately, the film suffers from an empty story and confusing logic. Florence Pugh–who never gives a false note and who regularly steals every movie she’s in–does the same here. But Olivia Wilde doesn't communicate a clear enough vision for Pugh, or her co-stars Harry Styles and Chris Pine, as to the movie's intentions. Is it a social commentary? A silly satire? A sci-fi horror? Or, all of the above?
I’ll admit that following the tabloid headlines around Don’t Worry Darling was entertaining and enjoyably juicy while it lasted. Now that the film has debuted to disappointing results, there isn't really much here to worry, much less care about.
123 minutes. 'Don't Worry Darling' is rated R for sexuality, violent content and language.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgmnKsED-jU&ab_channel=WarnerBros.Pictures
'Speak No Evil' May Be The Most Disturbing Movie of the Year
While introducing his new film Speak No Evil during its world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival–where it played as part of the fest's Midnight section–Danish director Christian Tafdrup shared with his virtual audience, "I wanted to make the most unpleasant watch ever."
As if that weren't enough to put everyone on edge, Tafdrup continued to share that in writing this movie, he was inspired by the filmmaking of none other than the king of discomfort, Lars Von Trier. That was enough to set my heart pounding, unsure of what sort of depraved evil would be in store for us all. And after watching Speak No Evil, I was only barely prepared for what horrors lay ahead in this smart, disturbing and heart-pounding new Danish horror film.
When a Danish family of three vacations in Italy one summer, they are pleased to meet a fun Dutch family at their shared lodging. Bjørn (Morten Burian) and his wife Louise (Sidsel Siem Koch) are excited to bond with the charismatic Patrick (Fedja van Huêt) and Karin (Karina Smulders). It's also fitting that their young daughter Agnes (Liva Forsberg) is also around the same age as the couple's son, Abel (Marius Damslev).
It's a fun affair but the magic of the Tuscany vacation becomes a distant memory when Bjørn and Louise return to their humdrum lives (he's clearly unhappy with his normal life). It's not until a year later when a postcard arrives–a photograph of both families together from their idyllic Italian summer–that their spirits lift. They've been invited by Patrick and Karin to reconnect and spend the weekend at their home; and offer that excites them, to which they accept.
A short 8-hour car trip away, Bjørn, Louise, and Agnes arrive at their host's house deep in the woods (the kind of place that would be very regrettable to get stuck in, on the unlikely chance that any danger should arise). They are instantly greeted and welcomed by fun-loving Patrick and Karin, and the promise of a fun weekend lies ahead.
However, small awkward cues arise in Patrick and Karin's hospitality that cause unexpected moments of unease to Bjørn and Louise. Little things that were so touching over that summer–Patrick's compliments over Louise's vegetarianism–are forgotten, with wild boar being that night's main course. But Bjørn and Louise, not wishing to rock the boat, brush it off, and continue with the weekend. It's not life or death, anyway.
It should be said at this point that Speak No Evil makes no attempt to hide its horror leanings. Tafdrup uses a sweeping symphonic score of strings that cause your body to tense up during their car trip to the house, and the loud, rustling of leaves once they're there only stir further dread. But it's the small moments of observed human behavior that Tafdrup is so skilled at capturing, making the audience cringe with discomfort, building a slowly rising tension.
Fedja van Huêt, Sidsel Siem Koch, Karina Smulders and Morten Burian appear in Speak No Evil by Christian Tafdrup, an official selection of the Midnight section at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Erik Molberg.
Unfortunately, Bjørn and Louise's uncertainty with the weekend continues, especially when they learn why Abel stares strangely and groans loudly at night: Patrick and Karin share that he has a rare disease that stopped his tongue from growing. An awkward dinner the next night leads Bjørn and Louise to wonder if, maybe they aren't the same fun-loving family they met on vacation, and perhaps it would be best if they cut the trip short and went home.
To give anything else away at this point would undoubtedly spoil the rest of the film's fun, and there is quite a lot of twisted reveals ahead. Co-written with his brother Mads, Speak No Evil is Tafdrup's third feature film and also his first to get accepted into the Sundance Film festival. Surprisingly, it's also his first attempt at making a horror film. "I have no experience with making horror. I'm not a horror fan, I like to use it in an artistic way."
Approaching the story from this angle is what makes Speak No Evil such a unique and affecting movie. Creating characters with such developed stories and real human desires (Bjørn's dishonesty with his boring life and Louise's niceties to others) is a smart way of leading them into the danger ahead. The way we act in everyday life–what we don't say or wish to admit about ourselves, and what we hold back from others for the sake of being polite–can have the direst consequences. Speak No Evil very much intends to leave you speechless, and believe me–it will.
This review was first published on January 26, 2022 during the Sundance Film Festival.
In 'Breaking,' A Desperate John Boyega Holds a Bank Hostage
Based on the true story of when former U.S. war veteran Brian Brown-Easley held a bank hostage after being denied his disability pay from the VA, Breaking (formerly 892) is a suspenseful thriller that also shines a poignant light on the injustices that veterans still suffer in our country today.
Directed by Abi Damaris Corbin from a script she wrote with Kwame Kwei-Armah (based on this article), Breaking combines the best of big-screen movie-making with more emotional, human storytelling. I've seen and enjoyed Hollywood's exciting hostage standoffs before, but knowing that this story was based on a real event makes the film resonate a little differently while watching.
In the lead role, John Boyega plays the aforementioned Brian, a former U.S. Marine who now collects disability payments just to get by–which he's barely doing. He makes long walks to his low-income motel where he stays, and his only relief is talking with his daughter on the phone every night (but even that gets cut off). When a processing error from the VA denies Brian's latest disability payment, he's threatened with becoming homeless, and he's finally pushed to the brink.
The next day, Brian calmly walks into a local Wells Fargo bank in Atlanta and, after politely interacting with the bank teller, calmly informs her that he has a bomb in his backpack. Here, the story is set on its suspenseful course. But something's different about this holdup. Brian lets most of the people in the bank go right away, and calmly requests his demands: to speak to a hostage negotiator and have his story televised by the local news outlets.
We find that Brian is a man who, although incredibly conflicted, still has a good heart. It's clear he doesn't intend to do harm to anyone, including his two hostages, Estel Valerie (Nicole Beharie) and Rosa Diaz (Selenis Leyva). He apologizes repeatedly to them for the situation he's put them in, and at one point even answers one of the bank's phone calls from someone asking questions about her 401k–who he attempts to help. When the bank offers to credit his account, he denies the offer. It needs to come from the VA, and the events that he's creating are the only way that they, and the rest of the world, will finally listen.
It's exciting to see Boyega in this role, playing a real-life character from this world, and not a galaxy far, far away. Boyega's baggy clothes, raspy voice, and simple speech convey a different side of his acting that we haven't seen before, and extends his range greatly. The journey that Brian goes on is a demanding one, requiring everything that Boyega's got.
As the situation escalates, he talks with a news producer (Connie Britton) and eventually, the hostage negotiator (Michael K. Williams). A former veteran himself, his conversation with Brian creates a connection between them, and a bond forms. He sees Brian's plight, and his safety becomes his own concern as well. In his final film role, Williams commands the screen every time we see him. His presence alone gives unparalleled gravitas to this, as well as every film he's been on. And while he will sorely be missed, this is a worthy final performance to remember the late actor by.
Corbin balances the rising suspense of the hostage standoff along with the more intimate scenes of Brian and his tight circle of confidantes. Scenes with Rosa and Estel make us empathize with him more and more. As the suspense grows–from a quiet sunny day to, at its highest point, a barrage of helicopters, tanks, pop-up command centers, and reporters–Breaking also keeps Brian and his mission front and center. When we finally learn how much money he was denied and that he's asking for now, it stops the movie in its tracks with impact. Considering the dangerous situation he's put himself in (and how he knows he may not make it out alive), you realize that it's not the amount of money he's asking for that he's truly after, but simply raising awareness of the injustice that he, and many others, have been denied.
Without giving away the ending, Brian would likely be pleased to know that his story is now being told, and shared with the world. I hadn't heard this story before seeing this film, but now that I have, I'm saddened to think about the desperation that some people are met with, and the lengths they'll go to to make amends. Brian Brown-Easley shined a light on a deep problem in our country, and Breaking furthers that story. It's an issue that needs to be corrected at the federal level in order to ensure that those who serve our country need to be served back.
This review originally ran on January 25, 2022 during the Sundance Film Festival.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Vi3EhaNOII&ab_channel=BleeckerStreet
'I Love My Dad': A Cringe-Worthy Comedy About a Catfishing Dad
Of everything I watched at this year's SXSW film festival, I Love My Dad was among the best things I saw. I'm certainly not alone in feeling this way, as the film ended up receiving the Grand Jury Award (the top prize) in the Narrative Feature Competition.
I Love My Dad is an enjoyable indie comedy that's heartfelt and easy to connect with. This is saying a lot for a film with a very awkward setup, one that allegedly happened to writer-director-actor James Morosini. Franklin (Morosini) is a depressive high schooler who one day falls for a girl (Claudia Sulewski) who Facebook messages him out of the blue. Except, it's not actually her he's talking to, but his estranged father Chuck (Patton Oswalt) who's using a fake account to reconnect with his son after being shut out of his life.
It's a very out-there setup (and crazier still considering it's based on true events). For it to work in movie-form, though, the audience has to understand why anyone would do that to their child. Well-meaning but self-defeating dad Chuck has clearly burned all of the emotional bridges with his son after a lifetime of no-shows and disappointments. Even though Chuck hasn't been there for Franklin, he still wants to be in his life, especially knowing his son's struggle with depression. What follows is a cringe-worthy comedy in which Chuck creates a fake account as a way to reconnect with his son. While it's an insanely stupid idea, it's clearly stemming from concern rather than cruelty, which Patton Oswalt brings to the character with sad sincerity.
We see the beginning of normal Facebook messaging between Franklin and who he thinks is the cute and kind "Becca" (Sulewski), and watch the relationship build. Rather than simply see Franklin and Chuck type and read their messages to each other, Morosini makes the stylish choice to bring Becca into the room with Franklin, and their online dialogue plays out by occupying real physical space–it kind of feels like that, doesn't it?–on a rooftop, in the supermarket aisles. It jarringly cuts back to Franklin alone when we need to snap back into reality. It's a clever and engaging way to tell the story.
The problem with Chuck's plan, of course, is that the longer Chuck continues the rouse, the stronger Franklin falls for Becca. In a high-stakes and inevitable move, Franklin decides to meet Becca. Who else decides to drive him, but his nervously sweating father, Chuck. I Love My Dad takes it to the actually cringe-worthy lines when Franklin and Becca engage in deeply intimate messaging, leading to a climax involving Franklin and his dad–locked into continuing the facade–making for an awkward next morning.
Beyond being an enjoyable comedy, what makes the film emotionally engaging and smart is that Morosini doesn't overdo these deeply uncomfortable moments but rather balances them with empathy and understanding. One can only imagine how Morosini handled that shocking WTF reveal in real life when he learned of his dad's unintentional catfishing. But in the film, there's impressive wisdom in how he portrays this story. It's also an impressive study of how humans long to connect and the role that technology plays in helping and impeding that from happening.
I Love My Dad announces the arrival of new young talent James Morosini. It's understandable why he opted to wear all the hats here, credited as the film's screenwriter, director, and co-lead actor. Not only is the story based on his life experience, but it's one that's so comically awkward that you really do need that person to tell the story.
I Love My Dad combines a variety of honest human storytelling: humor, sadness, and our need to connect while also showing how technology helps and impedes that from happening. Kudos to the now 30-year-old filmmaker, who has successfully turned a traumatizing episode into an entertaining, heartfelt, and charming indie feature.
This review originally ran on March 21, 2022, during the SXSW Film Festival.
'Elvis': Baz Luhrmann's Wildly Operatic Bio Pic Is Fit For A King
Where to watch: 'Elvis' is now playing in theaters nationwide.
The biggest thought I had while leaving the building after watching Elvis was, "Boy... that was a lot." Director Baz Luhrmann (Moulin Rouge!) succeeds in bringing the King of Rock and Roll's outlandish life story to the big screen in the most oversized, music-filled way imaginable. And yet, after being visually overloaded with this hyper-real staging of the rise-and-fall of Elvis Aaron Presley over 159 minutes, I also felt an unexpected solemnity. Surprisingly, an emotional connection had been forged with the man who, in real life, died a parody of his former self, but who in this sensationally operatic version of a bio-pic remix is given new life in his depiction as a lonely but culture-changing star.
With its high-flying camerawork and neck-snappingly quick editing, it's clear from the start that Elvis doesn't intend to play by the same rules that have kept other recent rock icon bio pics earth-bound. Baz Luhrmann–the unapologetically showy maximalist that he is–very much puts his visual stamp and spin on things here, even to the extent that, on the whole, the film largely overpowers the iconic entertainer's own star power. But it's this free-wheeling, unrestrained spirit that makes for a wholly unique viewing experience and tells Elvis's story in a fresh and exciting new way.
Beyond Elvis's singular style, the other key device that makes the film more than a traditional bio pic is the story that Luhrmann and Jeremy Doner choose to tell here (both also share screenplay credit with Sam Bromell and Craig Pearce). Elvis is not just the story of the Memphis-born singer only, but also that of his lifelong manipulative manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who many believe was largely responsible for not only Elvis's fall from grace, but even his premature death. A slippery snake oil salesman whose backstory is as unbelievable as his self-given suffix, "The Colonel" is here payed by Tom Hanks (whose combination of prosthetics and ambiguously European accent result in something between Cristoph Waltz and Foghorn Leghorn).
The Colonel's gleefully mischievous narration that opens the film and pops up throughout feels like a dark wizard ominously stirring a cauldron. We see that Elvis's story starts where The Colonel's begins: as a traveling circus leader promoting circus freaks and country singers through rural Americana. Always looking for the next attraction, he nearly dismisses a new Blues artist singing "That's All Right" on a nearby record player, until he learns with amazement: "He's whiiiite?" The potential opportunity for commercial success is instantly sparked, leading to chasing down his new fixation. After seeing young Elvis's (Austin Butler) power of possession to entrance the youth through his electrically arresting hip-shaking gyrations (which comically recalls 2001's early ape howls of new self-consciousness), he dangles a career to him like an evil genie. Young and naive and fueled by his love of music, Elvis agrees to The Colonel's proposal, and it's off to a future and relationship that would change the world.
Elvis is definitely at its weakest when it feels obligated to play out the Greatest Hits moments of his life. Definitely narratively overstuffed, it's tough for the film to build any real sense of varying levels of drama, making every scene "the most" of what it can be. The other big swing that the film unfortunately misses is its attempt to link The Colonel and Elvis's stories of self-made creation together in similar fashion (a thematic through-line that also runs through Baz's remake of The Great Gatsby). "You and I are the same, my dear boy," The Colonel reminds Elvis and the audience throughout the film, which furthers the plot more so than any real emotional stakes.
Elvis is at its best and most captivating when it's not narratively bound. Baz Luhrmann's canvas is not one of realism, but expressionism. When the film wishes show how it might have felt experiencing Elvis's stardom at the time, it's electric. Going all the way back to seeing a Young Elvis (Chaydon Jay) wander into a Gospel-bumping tent and becoming possessed by the sweat-filled claps and shakes from the African American community, is heart-pounding. Hearing the distortion-laced electric guitar solo that accompanies Elvis's first dance moves, is gripping. And living through Elvis's final years, playing out a Vegas residency that would become his elephant's graveyard, is heartbreaking to watch him shut away in that hotel.
Austin Butler as Elvis is not just good. He very well might have been born to play Elvis in a big screen movie. What's beyond impressive–besides the fact that Butler is able to talk, sing, and dance like the singer–is that he impersonates the entertainer impeccably at every stage of his life; from early break through, to middling mid-career, to sweat-faced final act. His mannerisms are perfect, and perfect for each stage, turning in a performance that's nothing short of passionate, committed, and phenomenal.
Now, Elvis is not perfect. The movie is certainly superficial and surface-level, and it really isn't designed to create nuanced drama. Its first act is wonderful, but when the movie down shifts into its second and third acts, the story loses just a bit of momentum. But Elvis tells the story of an American icon in such a way that gives the man newfound respect, coloring him as a person whose past was more tragic than we knew. By the time the film approaches its finale–the chips of his life in pill-popping disarray–we're met with one of the most arresting musical sequences in the form of a rendition ofUnchained Melody that blends fiction and reality marvelously. During his final public performance, and underneath all the glitz and grandeur, we hear and feel the presence of a young singer who might have only ever wanted to be free.