Review: RocketMan

RocketMan
Cert: 15 / 121 mins / Dir. Dexter Fletcher / Trailer



Credit where it's undeniably due, when you put your money down to see Dexter Fletcher's Elton John biopic, RocketMan, you know pretty much exactly what to expect, and that’s pretty much exactly what’s delivered. The fact that the film is also (mostly) fantastic is a bonus atop of this directional clarity.

SAILING

It’s not all plain sailing. I struggled with the two child-iterations of our hero and storyteller, the whole thing having a distinct am-dram air as a heavy-handed rendition of childhood strife is laid out for the hard-of-thinking in the audience. But at the moment - that very frame - where Taron Egerton takes the reins, I instantly relaxed back into my seat with the thought ’ahh, it’s going to be great now’. And so it proved. The Kingsman star is shaping up to be one of the greatest performers of his generation, effortlessly endearing even when he’s portraying a self-confessed diva.

On that subject, naturally this whole thing should be taken with a pinch of salt so large it requires its own health warning. Sure, we see Elton John as a self-obsessed bundle of nervous energy, self aggrandisement and bad decision-making, but never forget that this is Elton John’s version of bad-boy Elton John. Many scenes seem to carry the subtext that things were probably either nowhere near that bad or about a hundred times worse. Let's just say that you don’t need to wait until the closing credits tell you that Elton John was the executive producer of this to work out that Elton John was the executive producer of this.

LEGEND

But the music’s great (as you’d expect) and the flashback-based structure is loose enough to have fun with the well-known facts while not getting too bogged down in plot-minutiae. All was going swimmingly until one particular climactic moment where I may or may not have broken The Code by muttering “oh fuck off!”, so needlessly literal is its amateur-hour psychoanalysis. But that’s fine because we still end on a high, and the ride leading up to it was great fun. Bonus points for the 'what happened next' cards which close out the film, in case anyone is sitting in the auditorium thinking 'yeah, because Elton's kept a very low profile since 1990, is he still around at all..?

Oh, and how come in the John Lewis advert he gets the piano for Christmas and is instantly entranced by it, but in this film the piano's just in the dining room anyway and he starts playing it one day for no reason?

Well? Which one is it Reggie, you lying shit..?

There's a clear and upward line through Fletcher's earlier films, Sunshine On Leith and Bohemian Rhapsody, to where we are here.



It is.



It is, but watch it in the cinema for the full effect.



Fletcher goes from strength to strength, Egerton is fantastic as always*¹

Bryce Dallas Howard should be a fun revelation, but her accent's Downton Abbey one moment and Eastenders the next. And while there are some scenes where she's putting on airs, I don't think that's intentional for the amount of times she wanders over the line.



As much as I love most of this film, that's still a distinct possibility.



There isn't.



Level 1: Dr. Harter Kalonia is in this.





*¹ Okay, almost always ^{[ BACK ]}

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.