Rocketman (2019) - Movie Review

This is the kind of film that, for as long as it has languished in production limbo, came together through a collection of cosmic synchronicities. From producer Matthew Vaughn’s connecting with Elton John on the set of Kingsman: The Golden Circle, to director and fellow Ritchie collaborator Dexter Fletcher’s experiences batting clean-up for Bryan Singer on Bohemian Rhapsody, right down to Taron Egerton getting a shot of portraying one of Britain’s greatest musical talents as a result of having already done his music justice as part of Illumination Entertainment’s Sing.

It’s the kind of background info that ends up fuelling the hype behind this particular feature, as this is the kind of film that only comes about through pretty much everything being exactly where they need to be. It’s not a perfect film, but it’s damn near close.

Combining Fletcher’s knack for musical staging from back with Sunshine On Leith, and his previous rapport with Taron Egerton as the star of another emotionally-driven biopic with Eddie The Eagle, the visuals show him in prime form. The film itself is essentially a jukebox musical, one that uses the catalogue of Elton John to tell the story of his meteoric rise to glory, and the selections here are so pitch-perfect, you’d be forgiven for thinking that this began as a true-blue Broadway show.

But no, writer Lee Hall (perhaps best known for penning Billy Elliot) just found a perfect pairing with Fletcher, crafting a script as much cinema as it is theatre that embodies Fletcher’s style of emotional truth over historical truth. As a result, this is a biography that manages to hit all of the major points in Elton’s career, all without sacrificing any of the impact or occasional grime.

The balancing act on offer here is frankly astounding to see unfold. On one hand, you have Taron as Elton belting the ever-loving hell of these musical numbers, aided by some Danny Boyle-esque hyperrealism, to creature some serious sonic bliss. And on the other, you have a depiction of Elton’s family life, his reaction to fame and his deeply unsettling level of self-loathing that makes this an M-rated flick that pushes that rating to its breaking point.

It locks into the standard mode for these kind of rock star biopics, but it gives such a vivid depiction of all the tropes we’re familiar with that, in record time, it stops mattering that they are indeed tropes. Fletcher knows his emotional wavelengths, and the fact that he can juggle cheese and chalk this readily makes me wonder how Bohemian Rhapsody would have turned out if he just directed the whole thing.

This is the best kind of jukebox musical, one where the songs themselves serve as a window into the person that created them, making the audience reassess their relationship with the music. It’s also one that shows a fluid variety of styles within the musical framework, from loud and flashy old-school musical numbers, to more claustrophobic and rock-opera-esque deliveries that fit with the state of modern musicals. By combining numerous different takes on the idea of a storytelling musical, along with bringing in actors who can actually hold a tune (sweet bajeebus, Taron Egerton is fucking brilliant in this thing from front to back), we get a sometimes-dour, sometimes-bright, sometimes-funny, sometimes-insanely-uncomfortable and always-touching look at the man behind the camp, one that does his life, his work and his story proud.