"Elvis" 2022 movie review

 Elvis 

What is Elvis all about?

"Elvis" features all the glitz, rhinestones, and jumpsuits you'd anticipate from an Elvis movie, but it lacks the complexity required for a 2022 picture about the "King."

Baz Luhrmann, a maximalist director who despises aesthetic constraint and prefers enormous theatricality, ought to be the ideal director for a Presley biopic, but he isn't. Luhrmann narrates the tale of this icon from the viewpoint of Colonel Tom Parker, the singer's lifelong, dishonest manager (Tom Hanks). A near-death Parker awakens by himself in a Las Vegas hospital room after collapsing in his garish, memorabilia-filled workplace. He needs to clear his name because he has been called a criminal and a cheat who took advantage of Elvis (Austin Butler) by the media.

An IV drip transforms into the Las Vegas skyline, and Parker enters a casino wearing a hospital nightgown before reaching a roulette wheel. This is where Luhrmann's aesthetic language becomes apparent right away. For precisely the first half of the movie, "Elvis" moves like a Christmas fairytale turned nightmare; one fed not by jealousy but the pernicious clutches of capitalism and racism, and the potent combination they create. Hanks plays Parker with a heap of affectations, like the Mouse King in "The Nutcracker."

It's challenging to fully describe why "Elvis" fails, especially given that it occasionally provides engrossing amusement for extended periods of time. Luhrmann and co-writers Sam Bromell, Craig Pearce, and Jeremy Doner carefully construct the early events around Presley's influences. They demonstrate how much his time spent visiting Beale Street influenced his style and sound, as well as how equally enthralling Gospel and Blues were to him. A well-edited, both visually and sonically, sequence combines the two genres through a sweaty performance of "That's Alright Mama." Furthering the point are Big Mama Thornton's (Shonka Dukureh) rendition of "Hound Dog" and the appearance of a flashy B.B. King (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). Presley admires the superhero Shazam and aspires to the Rock of Eternity, which is another name for stardom in this context. Additionally, he is a momma's son (luckily, Luhrmann doesn't dwell on the fact that Elvis' brother died; this particular biographical detail was parodied in "Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story").

Even though Hanks has acted in many biopics, he has rarely been a game-changer. His accent is now shifting back toward Hanks in this instance. Additionally, the bulky prostheses do him little good because they take away his facial range, a useful element in his toolbox. Furthermore, Hanks already finds it difficult to portray blatant villains, so framing the narrative from his point of view lessens the threat he may otherwise pose. Hanks has a fine line to walk between being cunning and unassuming. Although Hanks' friction doesn't always work, it fits well with Luhrmann's film, which heavily relies on artifice.

The expansion of commerce and race in "Elvis" is the most fascinating connection. Parker is drawn to Presley because, although being white, he performs Black music. Elvis alienates homophobic men who see him as a "fairy," as well as the elderly white Christians who are white and Christian, such as the senile country artist Hank Snow (David Wenham). However, he appeals to young people and has sex appeal, much like Jimmie Rogers (Kodi Smit-McPhee; both performers give wonderful comic relief). Please allow me to wiggle. Luhrmann depicts shouting, sexually possessed ladies because he takes that very seriously. Butler's pink slacks are perfectly tailored, and the camera is focused closely on his crotch. The early parts of this biopic are especially memorable thanks to harsh zooms, fast whip pans, and a thirst for horniness (by both men and women). It also has an anti-capitalist slant that shows how frequently ownership, art, and work may be thrown away and mixed up in the disastrous system.

Unfortunately, "Elvis" quickly enters the realm of the stuffy biopic. We see Presley's rapid ascent, his early errors—whether brought on by greed or naiveté—and his ultimate slide into self-parody. The most clichéd of beats leads to the death of his mother (Helen Thomson). Richard Roxburgh, his father, trembles in the most insignificant of ways. When Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge) shows up, she is given the usual tragic wife material. The story just doesn't have enough playfulness or interiority to keep up as the pacing slows.

Even so, there are some enjoyable moments in Luhrmann's film's latter half: Presley's performance of "Trouble," in which he defies the racists in the South who worry that his music (and sensuality) with a Black influence will infiltrate white America, is arresting. Mandy Walker, a cinematographer, creates black-and-white-inspired freeze frames that envelop history in the dew of the morning. Elvis' rendition of "If I Can Dream" in his comeback special is one of the performance's highlights. During the Vegas segments, the outfits get ever more lavish, the make-up ever more gaudy, vividly illustrating Presley’s physical degeneration. Butler, an unlikely Elvis, holds the reins tightly while playing note after note that absolutely steals the show. Nothing Butler does has even the slightest whiff of artificiality. Even as "Elvis" falters, that sincerity lifts it.

However, the movie too frequently succumbs to the great white hope mentality, with Presley playing the true white hero who discovers the exotic and seductive Black artists of his day. The only real-life supporters of Presley, B.B. King, Big Momma Thornton, and Little Richard, are either attractive characters from another planet or bulletin board cheerleaders. Even as a paternalistic Presley pushes the cause of these Black artists, they seldom speak or retain any depth despite Luhrmann's recognition of their significance and the complicated history of Black art in white spaces.

The strategy neither clarifies nor elevates these figures. Instead, Luhrmann makes an effort to conceal the mixed emotions that many Black people of different generations have toward the alleged King. Presley loses enough intriguing twists and risk in the smoothing process to make the entire endeavor predictable. A filmmaker has a responsibility to consider whether they are the best person to tell a story since awareness alone is not enough. Not Luhrmann. And that's a flaw that a lot of viewers won't be able to overlook.

Other elements of the Elvis legend that Luhrmann avoids include the age difference between Priscilla and Presley (the two met in Germany when the former was 14 years old) and the time when Elvis turned into a Nixon stooge. It doesn't make much sense to exclude the latter in a movie about how business and conservatism turned Presley into a commodity. Luhrmann wants to depict the demise of a starry-eyed idol at the hands of evil forces, but he never goes far enough to make the character unlikeable or, better yet, complex and human.

This story is easily flattened by telling it from Colonel Parker's point of view. Black people are cardboard cutouts because he doesn't care about them. Priscilla has little personality because he doesn't give her much attention. And Parker won't degrade himself to the point where he tarnishes Elvis' reputation or brand. These negative results, which are facile and meaningless, are logically explicable in light of how the story is structured. But in 2022, what use is it to produce a sanitized Elvis biopic? Who, after all, needs to reinforce Presley's cultural significance any further when it has already dominated for more than 60 years? Another offensive draft of history has been hastily penned by white hands.

"Elvis" delivers precisely what you'd expect from a Baz Luhrmann film, and it does work as a jukebox. However, it never approaches Presley, engages with the complex character hiding under the jumpsuit, or addresses the complexities of his legacy. It is crammed full, bloated, and makes corny biopic choices. Until the credits, when he pans to old video of Presley singing "Unchained Melody," Luhrmann consistently puts Butler in the greatest possible position to succeed. Luhrmann then brings to your attention the myth-making that is taking place. Which, given Luhrmann's deceitful, plasticine attitude, is perhaps a good thing.