Dexter Fletcher's jukebox biopic about British national treasure Elton John, né Reginald Dwight, ROCKETMAN hits all the right notes: Taron Egerton wonderfully shows off his vocal range and re-records John’s hits with assertion; it doesn't skip John's queer sexuality like what they have done to Freddie Mercury in BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY (2018) and faithfully reproduces John's flamboyant outfits to bedazzling potency; plus an imprimatur from the singer/song-writer himself, a rare holdover surviving the inimical double influences from alcoholism and drug abuse, the blasé trimmings of showbiz stardom, and for that matter, the film indeeds commences with John, in his devil-with-horns attire ablaze, strutting into one of the addiction rehabilitation meetings, eagerly relates his own redemptive tale from the very start.
Flashback from his early days, to his smooth sailing to fame and then its heavy tolls are welded with John’s signature songs, Lee Hall’s script mainly attributes his success to his inborn talent (a distinguished retention of strains, a natural pianist with no difficulty of churning out hit numbers) and good luck - roundly hitting it off with his long-time collaborator, the lyricist Bernie Taupin (an understatedly sympathetic Jamie Bell), enjoying his rousing debut performance at the Troubadour in Los Angeles with an emphatic levitation-like reverie) - while shortchanges his artistic struggle with an emphasis on his perpetual quest of being loved: trying desperately to feel a vestigial trace of affection from his separated parents (a stern Mackintosh and gelid Howard, with the latter disinterestedly enacting the now formulaic response from a mother to her son’s courageous coming-out declaration - a mother always knows, at the same time biffing about the interruption of watching a Liberace TV performance, wry humor does help to offset the platitude); his toxic relationship with the obnoxious music manger John Reid (a surly-looking Madden), a character also appearing in BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, portrayed by Aiden Gillen with more enigma, which almost makes his tiff with Taupin feel rather incidental.
Visual opulence rules the movie, both for its rich palette and John’s kitschy stage personae, but compared with BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, which for what it is worth, has its ingrained pathos of a gone-too-soon music idol and the soul-lifting power of Queen’s music, to say nothing of Rami Malek’s affecting magnetism in the climax, ROCKETMAN looks and feels like a series of well-choreographed snippets of John’s earworms, but without a punchline, chiefly because each number is fairly allotted only a minute-long slot, the nearest cathartic moment comes with the titular song when John hits the rock bottom of his existential crisis, plunges into a swimming pool and imagines seeing his child self singing at the bottom, but its impact is impeded by its succinct length when the song reaches its symbolic rocket launching, no time for goosebumps.
Egerton commits himself stoutheartedly to the central performance and Fletcher carves out a coherent portrayal of a true legend tackling the relatable parental issues and rescuing himself from winding down the garden path, but, maybe due to the restriction of its all-too-familiar milieu, ROCKETMAN is shy of reaching the goal it aims at, to significantly lift the bar of music biopic set by BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, although the effort is laid bare.
referential entries: Bryan Singer, Dexter Fletcher's BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY (2018, 7.5/10); Matthew Vaughn's KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE (2017, 5.1/10).
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