'Elvis' is a technicolor ghost story

‘Elvis’ Dir. Baz Luhrmann 2022

I saw ‘Elvis’ yesterday (at The Curzon in Colchester, a brilliant cinema) and by the close of those 2 hour and 40 minutes, I wept watching the culmination of a lifetime of circumstance that gifted us 42 short years of Elvis and robbed the man himself of an existence comprised of true happiness and creative fulfilment.

For full disclosure, I know Luhrmann’s style as an auteur is pretty polarising, but personally, I love it. Luhrmann uses a ‘circus’ metaphor, neatly twined with ‘Colonel’ Parker’s beginnings as a carney ‘Snowman’, to weave a multi-textural assault; the velocity of which illustrates Elvis’s frighteningly meteoric rise to superstardom and a life less ordinary turned into a veritable three ringed circus.

The film more than justifies its running time, spanning Elvis’s early life in crippled poverty, absorbing both his Mother’s anxiety and grief over the still birth of his twin and the gospel and R+B music fuelling the souls of his community. Through his discovery by Parker (portrayed reliably impressively by Tom Hanks, whose characterisation expertly hovers yet never slips fully to ‘panto villain’ territory) Elvis’s ascendance to mega stardom is depicted in time shifting tableaux; melodic motifs woven with modern music and cultural reference to create a vista of Americana relatable to a modern audience of multiple generations and distances from the grim realities of each decade.

The film really belongs to Butler, who is exemplary. The impossibility of portraying a visual and audio icon is obvious and explains a lot about the lack of Elvis portrayals in the ether considering his wide reaching cultural impact and enduring popularity. Butler channels the raw masculine sexuality that helped make Elvis the most famous man in the world, but also infuses his performance with painful vulnerability, subtlety and a shimmer of danger, as Elvis slowly unravels under the weight and financial responsibility of the pressure of ‘playing Elvis’.

The dynamic between Parker and Elvis and all the key players in his life is depicted with a depth that never felt voyeuristic, yet equally never made me feel deprived of understanding. Austin's commitment to source material and footage is so obvious; with a side by side splicing of authentic footage blending at times eerily seamlessly. The supporting cast are great; their ability to tonally blend their respective depictions is very impressive.

Lurhmann even finds scope to show us a simultaneous narrative arc of Elvis’s creative development, musical influences and cultural impact in a segregated, racist, largely republican America. This is such a key element of Elvis as a successful artist, yet so often overlooked. A scene where Elvis and BB King muse upon the greatness of Little Richard on Beale Street is obviously fictionalised, yet feels emotionally very authentic and a timely reminder of the black artists sidelined by ingrained racism. ‘Imagine if Elvis had been as back as he sounded’ is a question that ought to have been asked louder and sooner.

Unlike Fletcher’s ‘Rocketman’ (which I also loved) Elvis is no longer alive to infuse this film with his own influence. We all know, from the outset, that the circus will commence; that the show will feel exhilarating, raw and dangerous, with an unsustainable energy that has to logically end. It is testament to this film that this tragic inevitability creates a heart rending pull to the viewer as opposed to rejection or indifference.

The spectre of Elvis haunts this film through the gaze of a multi surfaced prism, reflecting the many aspects of an individual and the world that experiences them from close and distant quarters. His ghost is never more present than at the close of the film (in his last performance) which reduced the audience collectively to tears at the tragedy of a life so powerful, that even when ended shockingly short, his spirit feels so tangibly, indelibly present.