Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: a prodigy grows up in poverty, nursing an incredible talent recognized by few. After making his big break, he ascends to stardom before spiraling into egomania and addiction. The road to redemption isn’t easy, but, a few trashed hotel rooms later, our hero cleans himself up, makes peace with his family and rediscovers his greatness.
“Walk the Line” perfected the form of the musical biopic in 2005. Since then, the genre has become increasingly claustrophobic, each film following an irresistible trajectory: obscurity, success, excess, angst, redemption. Like “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Ray” and its numerous other predecessors, “Rocketman” is bound inescapably to this framework.
To discuss the specifics of Taron Egerton’s performance as Elton John, or the great care that was clearly taken to recreate Sir Elton’s rhinestone-studded regalia, seems almost beside the point: if you’ve seen a musical biopic in the past decade, you’ve already seen this film, albeit with a different soundtrack. There’s even a montage where newspaper headlines fly toward the screen – no kidding.
As others have noted, “Rocketman” is the first major studio film to feature a male-on-male sex scene. The scene and the romantic subplot to which it belongs are harmless and unmemorable. Perhaps acceptance also means banalization.
Like so many films before it, “Rocketman” takes the dazzling and uncomfortable complexities of the Genius Artist and chains them to a familiar framework.
1.5/5
