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Posts Tagged ‘Richard Madden’

‘Many people lead lives of quiet desperation, but Elton John leads a life of loud desperation’ – if I had said that, I would be somewhat peeved, as it’s a quote that seems to have entered the public consciousness without anyone being able to remember who it was who actually thought it up in the first place. Still, it’s a good line, and that’s the most important thing. Whether or not he agrees with it, Elton himself (he has acquired that odd status of being one of those people recognisable from his first name alone, even though he has thoughtfully given himself three) clearly thinks his life has something to commend it, as he has apparently been trying to get his life-story filmed for nearly twenty years now. Now here it is, in the form of Rocketman, directed by Dexter Fletcher.

One day it may be possible to write about Rocketman without comparing it to Bohemian Rhapsody, but clearly not today. Fletcher wasn’t the credited director on the bemusingly successful Queen bio-pic, but he did finish it off after Bryan Singer was canned, and the subject matter is obviously very similar, too – the life story of a troubled legend of popular music, liberally garnished with hits from the back catalogue. Of course, there are differences as well, the first obvious one being the tone of the film, which opens with Elton (Taron Egerton) arriving unannounced at what seems to be a group therapy session, dressed in an outfit that makes him look like a cross between Mephistopheles and a macaw. Some discussion of Elton’s youth, as Reggie Dwight in the London suburb of Pinner, leads into the first of many full-on musical numbers, staged with verve and imagination.

These continue as Elton/Reggie’s life story unfolds: a musical prodigy troubled by a strained relationship with a cold and distant father, he wins a scholarship to the Royal Academy of Music, starts playing keyboards in pubs at an improbably early age, and generally establishes himself as a jobbing musician by the late 1960s. The key moment comes when his natural facility with melody is put together with the lyrical talents of Bernie Taupin (a nicely-pitched performance from Jamie Bell, who fully understands his job is to support Egerton without upstaging him). Success comes quickly, with an early appearance in America leading to astronomical record sales, fuelled by a succession of belting tunes.

But is he really happy? With the fame and fortune come a troubled relationship with his lover and manager (Richard Madden), increasing dependence on drink and drugs, and a terrible sense of loneliness and isolation. This is a life story of extraordinary success (350 million records sold), hand in hand with desolating moments of heartbreak (Watford FC losing the 1984 FA Cup Final 2-0 to Everton).

(Funnily enough, Elton’s period of ownership at Watford is one of those interludes in his life that the film skips over entirely. Clearly, he was on board for a film depicting his struggles with addiction, loneliness, self-doubt, and betrayal, not to mention his failed marriage, but some things are clearly just too painful to revisit, even 35 years on.)

Another key difference between this film and that other one is that, of course, Elton John is still with us and has clearly taken a hands-on approach to the movie (he is credited as executive producer and his husband is one of the producers). To some extent this is no bad thing, as it was Elton himself who resisted attempts to overly-sanitise this film, insisting that his life would not get a PG-13 rating. On the other hand, one also kind of gets the sense that there has still been some smoothing over of rough edges – Elton is mostly presented entirely sympathetically, with no mention of the hair transplant, any of his well-known strops directed at fans or passers-by, or the surprising moment in the mid-80s when he phoned up a member of his staff and ordered him to make the weather outside less windy. Likewise, the film omits the 90th birthday party of his mother, which he didn’t go to as the pair had fallen out a few years previously – so his mum hired an impersonator to go and perform there anyway (I don’t know about you, but I think there’s masses of material for a great movie just in that one story).

I suppose much of this is understandable as the film concludes with Elton coming out of rehab at some unspecified point between 1983 (the film concludes with Egerton recreating the video for I’m Still Standing) and 1991 (the closing captions indicate that the star hasn’t had a drink in ’28 years’). One of the problems Rocketman has to contend with is that there isn’t really a moment in Elton’s career that corresponds with Queen’s legendary performance at Live Aid, and so it lacks a natural end point – the only possibility would have been his performance at the funeral in 1997, which would probably have entailed making a film with an entirely different tone. (An uncharitable observer might suggest that one of a number of things that Elton John and Freddie Mercury have in common is that neither of them have released any really noteworthy music since the 1990s, and Freddie has a better excuse for this.)

However, if the film comes pre-loaded with some flaws, it also has some in-built advantages, which it makes full use of, most obviously the Elton John back catalogue. Looking back, I remember always being aware of who Elton was, but not particularly familiar with his music in the way that I was with, say, the Beatles – I recall the first time I properly heard Crocodile Rock and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, which was on a re-run of Elton’s appearance on The Muppet Show – the image of the singer, in a peacock outfit, conducting a chorus of foam-rubber crocs in the ‘la la la la la’ section of the former song is one burned into my memory, and I was sorry not to see it recreated here. However, most of the famous Elton songs turn up here, although the one about the candle is only alluded to, and the ones licensed to Disney are absent as well – but we do get the title song, Crocodile Rock, Tiny Dancer, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Your Song, and many others.

The film hedges its bets by staging some of these as simple recreations of Elton performing them (and it has to be said that Egerton often looks uncannily like the singer when doing so), but in other places opts to go for the full-on musical number approach. Like the opening number, these are mostly extremely well-done, slick and inventive, and because the film isn’t afraid to be a proper musical they can – for example – insert a song like 2001’s I Want Love (all right, maybe I was a bit harsh about Elton’s recent material) into a scene from the 1950s without it feeling too jarring. Egerton does all his own singing and is more than acceptable, just one aspect of a performance which really surprised me – I’ve always tended to think of Egerton as a rotten actor, but this may well be because I have only seen him in films which were a bit suspect (the Kingsman series) or actively rotten themselves (Eddie the Eagle and last year’s Robin Hood). Rocketman indicates there may yet be hope for him.

In the end we really enjoyed Rocketman. It handles the rags section rather better than riches, and loses focus towards the end, and it doesn’t deliver quite the feelgood emotional wallop of Bohemian Rhapsody, but it’s made with skill and creativity. Olinka, who in addition to being a former rock musician is also in training to become a psychotherapist, found it to be a particularly moving and insightful depiction of how none of us really find it easy to escape our origins, no matter how materially successful we may become. Viewed in those terms, the film has surprising depth and emotional heft, as well as delivering some slick and satisfying entertainment, and some really surprising clothes. In the end I would probably say that Elton has earned whatever indulgences the movie permits him, and I have no doubt he would agree with me.

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James Watkins’ Bastille Day opens with as brazen as piece of gratuitous female nudity as you will see in any film this year, proceeds to include as many low-fi foot chases, car chases, punch-ups and gun battles as the plot can contain while remaining even remotely credible, and concludes with its star, Idris Elba, belting out a funky number over the closing titles. There is no great mystery as to what kind of film this is – in fact there is something quite endearing about just how up-front it is about its ambitions. Bastille Day really, really wants to be a Luc Besson movie (with a side order of ‘star vehicle for currently-hot Idris Elba’).

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All the Besson tropes are here: the cheerful purloining of action movie tropes from American cinema, a plot that does the business as long as you don’t look too hard, very decent action sequences, and some rather underwritten female characters. I genuinely thought this was a Besson project while I was watching it, so note-perfect is the imitation of style. But apparently not.

The odd thing is that this is in many ways a British movie trying to copy a French director best known for making films in an American style. As things get under way, we meet American pick-pocket Michael Mason (Richard Madden, who’s British), who spends most of his time ripping off tourists in Paris, where he lives. However, things take a left turn for him when he unwisely steals the bag of a young French woman called Zoe (Charlotte Le Bon, who’s Canadian), coerced into planting a bomb by her dodgy boyfriend, rather against her better judgement.

Well, the bomb goes off, but luckily neither Mason nor Zoe are injured. However, Mason is now being hunted by the authorities as a suspected terrorist, and the people who made the bomb would quite like a word with Zoe, too. As luck would have it, the CIA’s Paris section have a head start on finding Mason, and the case is assigned to agent Briar (Elba, who’s also British). Elba is introduced in one of those scenes where his weaselly superior tries to drag him over the coals for being an undisciplined maverick, but he’s such a badass dude that he reduces his boss to an impotent fury with a few cool putdowns. Honestly, watching this scene was like seeing an old friend again – I wanted to stand up in the cinema and give it a big hug.

Anyway, Briar’s bull-at-a-gate approach to intelligence work means that ten minutes after his CIA supervisor (Kelly Reilly, who’s also British) instructs him to discreetly locate and detain Mason, he is chasing him over the rooftops of Paris while waving a gun. Needless to say, this is Elba’s movie not Madden’s, so he catches him and the two can get to work on their buddy-movie rapport (not to mention progressing the plot). It transpires that dark forces are at work seeking to foment panic and chaos in the French capital ahead of the Bastille Day parade, but not all is quite as it appears to be…

First things first: going ahead and releasing a movie about terrorist attacks in Paris is a ballsy choice at the moment, although my understanding is that this movie was shot in 2014, when the subject matter must have seemed slightly less provocative. This is especially the case given that Bastille Day is very definitely pitched at the no-brainer end of the market – this is not a film of big ideas, intended to make one reconsider the impact of terrorism on modern society or the role of the state in maintaining civil order. This is a film about Idris Elba kicking people in.

That said, Bastille Day manages to get away with it, just – it certainly doesn’t come across as anything like as ugly and reprehensible as London Has Fallen, for instance – partly because Elba comes across as less of a homicidal maniac than Gerard Butler, and partly because it quickly becomes fairly clear that the film isn’t actually about ‘terrorism’, and the bad guys aren’t radicalised Muslims, but a set of stock figures who should be quite familiar to anyone who’s watched more than a handful of action movies in the last twenty years.

The film’s attempts at being contemporary are pretty much restricted to including something rather like the Occupy movement, which surely barely counts as topical any more anyway. Still, this isn’t the kind of film you go to for bold new ideas: as I said, you know pretty much from the start more or less how it’s all going to go down – a lot of running around and shouting, a little exposition (hopefully inserted as subtly and painlessly as possible), some snappy banter between our two heroes, and a big gun battle at the end.

Bastille Day provides all these things extremely competently, and Idris Elba carries the film well: although if, as many are suggesting, this is effectively his audition piece, made with an eye to becoming the next James Bond, I’m not sure it quite does the job. He can handle the tough guy stuff very well, but I’m not sure he’s quite smooth enough for Bond (novel though it would be to have Bond himself singing the theme song). Others may disagree. The film does lack a properly strong villain for him to face off against – if this really were a Besson movie, there would be someone like Matt Schulze or Tcheky Karyo having a whale of a time and chewing the scenery, but the bad guys here are extremely anonymous, which may be partly why the climax of the film feels a little underpowered and flat.

I must confess to turning up to Bastille Day with extremely modest expectations, and was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the movie as much as I did. This film is not going to rock anyone’s world, or turn anyone involved into a red-hot property, but it ticks nearly every box required of it and manages to generate moments of genuine humour, suspense, and excitement. This is a very competently made mid-budget action movie, nothing more and nothing less. As such it’s exactly the film it wants to be, and well worth seeing if you like that kind of thing.

 

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