Elvis Never Left the Building: A Review of Baz Luhrmann's 'Elvis'
There must be something in the air this summer because Elvis (2022) just surpassed $100 million in the domestic box office this weekend. It’s an achievement that has, as outlets have already pointed out, become increasingly rarer for non-superhero films. Though, let the court records show that Elvis was in fact one of the original jumpsuit and cape wearers who arose from tragedy to achieve a God-like status… but I digress.
That Elvis, even 45 years after the man’s death, was able to achieve what most of our carefully calibrated blockbuster films could not isn’t really that much of a surprise. That Baz Luhrmann was the one to do it with a coked-up music biopic starring a relative unknown and Tom Hanks doing a silly accent in deflated-balloon prosthetics, however, is pretty impressive. Not that I’m complaining – it’s been a breath of fresh air to see multiple non-Disney property films succeed, especially in the same season. While Elvis Presley’s persistent stardom is obviously the biggest draw, Luhrmann himself similarly holds appeal for a wide generational swath; those over 50 are likely coming for the musical nostalgia factor, while those under 50 are likely coming for the Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge! nostalgia factor.
On a relative lark, and despite being part of the under 50 crowd myself, I’ve actually watched and reviewed every single Elvis film. By the end of this journey, I found myself in possession of a plethora of Elvis film knowledge, an Elvis t-shirt, a vintage Elvis belt buckle (gifted to me!), copies of both Peter Guralnick Elvis biographies and a small collection of very attractive Elvis photos saved on my desktop. When I heard about Luhrmann’s upcoming film I admit I rather immediately had some reservations (mainly Tom Hanks), but could not deny that however it went, this was always going to be a film catering directly to my tastes. Thankfully, Elvis ended up being pretty much the best of what it could have been: a glittering frenzy of feverish reverence, replete with pink suits and matching Cadillac cars, hysterical hip-shaking highs and slurred, sweat-dripping lows.
Which isn’t to say the movie doesn’t have some major flaws. Elvis certainly makes no effort to break the biopic mold, showing us the entirely of Elvis’ life from birth to death as it weaves through a history of America – all comparisons to Walk Hard are decidedly well earned. The film also plays fast and loose with facts and timelines, rather bafflingly leaving the more fascinating aspects of the man’s life on the cutting room floor. No real details on his multiple sexual hangups, the insanity of his Memphis Mafia, the intensity of his karate obsession or even his hairstyle-cum-spiritual guru Larry Geller. Predictably, Elvis also actively skirts anything too controversial in favor of pumping up the man’s more positive aspects. I was glad to see Luhrmann address the factually inaccurate and somehow persistent rumor that Elvis was racist, instead highlighting his childhood connections to the African American community and the mutual respect between him and the black artists he covered. Similarly, it was intriguing to see Priscilla Presley get a spirited introduction that didn’t just downplay her character as merely a star struck young girl. Less impressive to see her character basically ignored for the rest of the two and a half hours – never mind the complete avoidance of their questionable age difference when they started dating and his emotionally abusive tendencies later as a husband.
The focus on Elvis’ drug use as being a large part of his downfall was welcome, even if it was a little strange to see Luhrmann pretend it was something forced upon him later in his career. In fact, he got addicted to pills in the army, a habit his manager later exploited for profit as he drove Elvis into the ground. Speaking of, as dopey as the decision to hire Tom Hanks as Colonel Parker is, at least Luhrmann goes out of his way to showcase him as the complete and total huckster he was. The Amadeus-esque framing of Tom Parker as the unreliable narrator wasn’t terribly rewarding for those in the know, but hopefully it surprised some younger viewers. Really the biggest disappointment is that the movie didn’t end with Parker burning in hell fire while Satan laughs from his throne. (It honestly wouldn’t have been out of character with the vibe – real missed opportunity, Baz!)
What Elvis thankfully genuinely gets right is the most important part of his legacy: the music. I don’t just mean the Elvis Presley hit parade that Luhrmann curated for the film – even the remixes and Doja Cat worked great within this already mashed up world of wild editing – but specifically the importance of that connection between his music and his body. Luhrmann uses these musical breaks to not only reinforce the magic of his singing, but to focus his audience completely on Elvis’ physicality; the hair flips and lip snarls down to the wiggling hips and shuffling shoes. The fact that Elvis’ bedazzled jumpsuits were genuinely cool as hell, streamlined statement pieces that not only fit his body but embraced a spectacular showmanship but were fully representative of his vocal style and range. When Elvis moved on stage, it wasn’t a mere gimmick – you fully believe he felt the spirit moving in him.
Austin Butler deftly embraces and weaves through the man’s open hearted sincerity, celebrity ridiculousness and deep personal sadness. Truly delivering what will likely become the breakout performance of the year, Butler showcases not only some impressive singing (even if it’s sometimes “blended”) but an incandescent physical range that the King himself would have been proud of. Despite his lukewarm physical likeness, there’s never a time where Butler’s Elvis feels like a caricature. One of the movie’s more impressive details is in how Luhrmann will guide scenes along in order to reproduces exact photographs – from Elvis crying with his father on the steps of Graceland after this mother’s death, to that one trippy performance in Live A Little, Love A Little when montaging through the 1960s, to yes, that one weird mic trick. These countless nods veer directly into meme territory for those in the know, and yet with Austin Butler’s enchanting acting I’d guess most audience members wouldn’t even pick up on having missed out on something.
Watching Elvis I found myself thinking about what is it that a biopic needs in order to be successful. Luhrmann’s Elvis certainly proves you can still have fun with the tried-and-true formula if you have a fun subject and know how to work them. While factual information about any given celebrity’s life is obviously important to the general framework, a skilled filmmaker such as Luhrmann knows how to use every aspect of the film to encapsulate their essence and draw out an emotional truth. Elvis simply isn’t Elvis if you’re merely recounting a series of facts – he was a performer who needed to be seen on a stage to be fully understood.
At his best, Luhrmann’s filmmaking seems to tap into Ken Russell’s school of biopics – films that don’t necessarily encompass the entirety of a musicians’ life but instead are emblematic of what their music made people feel and the hidden passions that drove them to make it. At Luhrmann’s worst he swerves past any territory that’s too honest and settles too often into pandering. That Elvis Presley’s life became larger than he was and meant more to others than it did even to himself, is the true tragedy at the heart of his story. It’s a theme Luhrmann skirts around but never seems to want to sully the film’s sparkle with. Instead Colonel Tom Parker gets all of the blame, the audience reaps the benefits of the music and the real Elvis we will never truly know still lies dead in Graceland. The King is dead, long live the King.
