I am filled with an idle sense of ongoing grief over my relationship with my parents. The worst part about growth and perspective is the people you leave behind in the process. For me, two of those people were always going to be my parents.
“I don’t need therapy, I’m going to die like this.” I’ve heard this from my mother multiple times in the last few years. Not only is that a bold assertion that between now and your death, you do not intend to grow, but it’s also the sharpest dagger you could wield against someone you claim to love. To their face, you are telling them you do not want to be better for them. You are telling them they are not worth the difficulty in initiating change.
One of my mother’s favorite things to tell us is: “You’ll miss me when I’m dead.”
The truth is, I miss her now. I, so distinctly, feel the absence of the intimate connection you are designed to have with your mother. When I need comfort, I turn to myself. I turn to my dog. I turn to a hug from my nephew. I turn to a FaceTime with my best friend.
This is the ongoing state of grief. Physically, she is present. Financially, she pops up for help when she can. Emotionally, I have never been able to depend on her. The cost of this absence was the building blocks to every opportunity for intimacy I sabotaged between high school and now. The cost of this absence was the people I chose who mistreated and devalued me. The cost of this absence was the deeply rooted belief “you are too much and no one will understand you.” Letting go of the idea that I can only depend on myself has been an ongoing ordeal. Like her, I have participated in the self-abandonment necessary to believe I am better off alone.
I have allowed myself to eat crumbs off the floor to feel the validation I should have been instilled with from the beginning. With my mother, it is not a question of whether she will hurt me but when. Most conversations are laid with hidden mines of triggers. The worst part is always the few times we truly can have deep conversations because it perpetuates the illusion of intimacy. She’s right, when she’s dead, I’ll miss her. I will grieve her loss. I will also grieve the relationship I always wanted but could never get.
I want to meet you, With love in my heart. I want to meet you, With a shard of who I am. This fractured bit, I saved for this moment. Which train did you catch? Did you book a one way? You’re further out to horizon, Pushing farther and farther. Say you’ll hop off and walk. Slip out the back with an excuse. Just say you’ll walk back to me, So I can meet you with love.
I have endeavored to learn everything I could about mental health and trauma to better understand not just myself but also my family. My mother laments the sour edges of our relationship, but she will take no action to improve it.
The worst lie I ever told myself was that I can live with less because someone else can’t provide more. The truth I’ve had to accept is that I allowed this mindset to permeate my life for too long. The connections I want now are deep and real. I am valuable, important, and worthy of effort. You can always choose to pivot. There is always opportunity to change. You can admit that you want more from life than what you have witnessed around you. There is no reward without risk. Admitting your vulnerabilities, your wants, and your desires is powerful and necessary. Healing from trauma is a gift you give to yourself and the world around you.
I never like to give power to my trauma. I am not grateful for it. I am grateful for how I took control of my interiority and how I have grown from it. So is it a tragedy or a flex that no one has or will ever break my heart like my own mother has before?
When I was a kid, I had big emotions which I struggled to control. Like many of us, I did not have parents who had the capacity to help me regulate my emotions. Instead, my mother would tell me I needed to toughen up. She saw my despair as inherently dangerous to my survival and so tried to stifle it the only way she knew how. Of course, with time and perspective, I understood her aggressive stance to be her way of showing she loves me by trying to prevent me from feeling the inevitable pain that comes with living. However, I was passionate. I raged and I hollered on about not wanting to live like her. I know I must have hurt her sometimes by directly rejecting the “help” she offered and therefore rejecting her. To her, she was offering me an oar in an ocean. To me, I felt her attempt to hammer a nail into my coffin.
I could not imagine a world where I closed myself off to everything to mitigate the possibility of pain. To this day, I see a deep strength in me and all of us who choose to remain soft. There is only isolation and loneliness in the path suggested by my mother. So many people see softness, tears, and vulnerability as a weakness. I see it as constant little acts of courage and rebellion. The same broken systems we are trapped in thrive when we close ourselves off to each other and even worse, ourselves. When we deny ourselves the opportunities to be vulnerable with the people we like and come into contact with; we are in turn depriving ourselves of true intimacy and connection. I do think there’s an inherent beauty in allowing yourself to “crashout” and close in on yourself when the eventuality is that you turn around and once again open up and smile at someone.
“Right now you may not want to feel anything… We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of 30 and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste! (…) How you live your life is your business just remember our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once and before you know it your hearts worn out and as for your body there comes a point when no one looks at it much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow, pain, don’t kill it and with it the joy you felt.”
Mr. Perlman (Elio’s Father, Call Me By Your Name)
I watched Where the Wild Things Are (2009) recently with one of my nephews. We both connected deeply with the film, meaning we were both lying in bed crying at the end, probably for similar reasons of seeing ourselves (or my younger self) in the protagonist. Later, he confessed he sometimes feels lonely and depressed like Max does. I told him, I understand, I often felt that way when I was a kid too. Sometimes speaking to him is so hard because when I see him vulnerable and hurting, I hurt too. Except, in those moments, I can’t just lose myself and cry it out because I need to be the adult that I needed when I was going through the same thing.
I told him films like the one we watched were very important to me as a child. I often read books or watched movies where I connected very deeply to the characters. I told him that seeing characters experience the same emotions made me feel less alone because I knew that meant I wasn’t alone at all. I knew when I saw these characters struggle and feel out of place that I wasn’t alone in how I felt. I knew other people felt this way too. I knew we were all connected by this.
Art and its parallel existence to defining our humanity is something that saved me growing up. Literature, film, and music were the true oars in a vast ocean.
“I think that’s whats wrong with the world. No one says what they feel, they always hold it inside. They’re sad, but they don’t cry. They’re happy, but they don’t dance or sing. They’re angry, but they don’t scream. Because if they do, they feel ashamed. And that’s the worst feeling in the world. So everyone walks with their heads down and no one sees how beautiful the sky is.”
Louise Fitzhugh (Author of Harriet the Spy)
When I was a kid, I had big emotions. Now, I’m an adult and I still have big emotions. I accept and love this about myself. What my mother tried, with good intentions (maybe), to weed out of me is one of the things I now find most beautiful about myself. I experience big and UGLY emotions, ones that most of my life made me want to hide myself away so as not to be rejected for being “too much.” Except, by consistently allowing myself to experience this, I have also taught myself the many necessary tools of self-regulation. These are tools I discuss with my friends, my sister, and my nephew on a regular basis.
If I had not given myself the gift of experiencing something I once deemed so ugly and unattractive about myself; I would not be able, now, to turn around and share that gift with the people I love and cherish. Experiencing, regulating, and not suppressing my emotions has opened the door to sharing with my friends and family in true community. If I had never allowed myself to be hurt. If I had shut myself off from things that once scared me. I would never have had these beautiful moments of true connection in mutual humanity with my loved ones.
I am so grateful to feel so strongly. I am so proud of myself for being brave and facing myself day in and day out. When I was a kid, a teenager, a young adult, I would look in the mirror and struggle to find my value because I felt broken. The truth is though, I have shown myself time and time again, true resilience is moving forward knowing there’s a storm ahead and knowing it will be hard to weather it but that it is worth it to get where I am going.
Dominic West, Lily Collins, and David Oyelowo as Jean Valjean, Fantine, and Inspector Javert
Full disclosure? I definitely picked up Les Misérables after I heard Joseph Quinn played Enjolras. If you don’t know Joseph Quinn, you probably haven’t seen the new season of Stranger Things, more’s the pity.
He doesn’t show up til episode three or four, not that it matters because every hour of the show was tragic. Tragic in the way it felt like, oh my god, how did they manage to fit this much unhappiness and suffering into each hour long episode.
Bottom line, I liked it, but it’s definitely hefty. As hefty as the book it sources its material from. Seriously, Les Miserables is a brick. You could probably commit a felony with the weight of the book alone.
I’ve only ever seen the musical version of the story before so there was a lot of new information and context for me to delve into in this series. For me, that was enough of a reason to watch, to find something new in a story I’ve already seen before.
In fact, since the musical version (as well as any other movie versions) has to be condensed into 2-3 hours you clearly lose a lot of story.
Chef’s kiss to Victor Hugo. The man straight up bayoneted me right in the heart.
I’m a notorious softy but this series really has me out here wasting my nightly skin care routine bawling my eyes out. The infamous barricade scene got me especially good.
First off, you’ve got Eponine. Her character really loses a lot of subtext and depth in shorter versions. So despite the absence of the heartbreaking “A Little Fall of Rain,” her death still hit me.
Gavroche. The cheeky little devil himself slain in the streets as he danced around shots firing through the air. Reece Yates’ Gavroche is a resourceful, unyielding rascal who weasels his way into your heart as easily as he swipes bread from the baker.
I watched this series for Enjolras but Fantine, played by Lily Collins, stole the show early on. Her casual rise and then steady fall into despair is even more horrific as it’s drawn out over multiple episodes. This is another character whose true depth is missing in condensed versions.
Honestly, the whole ensemble was pretty amazing, the casting was on point.
Dominic West and David Oyelowo as Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert showed an impressive amount of range through their characters. Both are well seasoned actors so no surprises there.
Olivia Colman and Adeel Akhtar, otherwise known as Monsieur and Madame Thenardier, were positively atrocious. I mean that as a compliment of course. Their characters are absolutely vile. Like the lowest of the low.
The musical version makes them seem a bit more fun but this version truly gives you a taste of what casual evil can be in people.
The scale of the production is pretty incredible too. The opening scene shows The Battle of Waterloo which features thousands of men layered together dead in the mud.
In reality they only had about 60 extras for this scene so they used a technique known as matte painting to fill in the rest of the scene.
In all fairness, I’m sure there’s also quite a lot to nitpick about this series. I definitely picked up a strange combination of accents for a film entirely about French people. I was deep in the story so I’m willing to let it go.
I read an article reviewing the series which knocked the content for being too in your face with “inequality is bad.” Honestly, I’m not sure what other message you’re supposed to get out of Victor Hugo’s massive textual critique on an unjust class system of 19th century France. Isn’t that rather the whole point?
Don’t get me wrong. I love the musical version. It’s a deep dive into the inner machinations of each character. Only instead of using the subtlety of people’s actions in a limited series, we come to explicitly understand their desires, fears, and hopes through each song.
Don’t ask me to choose between the two adaptations, I am a theater kid to the bone, but I might like this extended version better for understanding the story as a whole.
The same article that critiqued the series for its stance of inequality called it super miserable and long suffering. Again, a bit redundant considering the title and point of the material.
As there is no light without dark, we cannot truly understand the depth of joy without understanding the depth of despair.
Maybe I’m a little masochistic, but yes despite feeling absolutely miserable throughout the series I really enjoyed it in the end. However, if you don’t like getting your heart beat to a pulp continuously, I’d skip it.
So.
Did you think I’d neglect to talk about dear old Enjolras? What more can I say other than his character is exactly my type.
Enjolras, a fervent believer in freedom. Freedom of ideals, the absence of poverty, and the destruction of those who use their power to subjugate the masses.
Jordan Peele’s newest film, Nope, has fulfilled most of our summer blockbuster hopes. It’s funny, scary, action packed, and has the best use of horses I’ve seen in a contemporary film in the past decade. It’s definitely a spectacle worth a watch.
About 20 minutes into the film you could hear me muttering, “oh hell no, uh uh.” This is the reaction Peele is looking for from audiences. He’s inciting the overwhelming feeling of “nope, I’m out.” It’s the reason behind the name of the film.
Third Act Problems
Like I’ve stated previously, many directors struggle to wrap up their plot in the third act. Throughout the film there are a few plot points that have had me and my friends scratching our heads over them.
As usual Peele’s plot is expansive and therefore hard to navigate in only a single viewing. Overall, it’s a bit shaky unless you take the time to dive into the layered subtext.
I ended the film satisfied but curious about the meaning of many aspects of the story. This ending is much better than Peele’s last film, Us, which threw in a conspiracy at the end that didn’t quite give me the satisfaction I wanted as a finish.
Take a Deeper Dive
The Hollywood Reporter’s article ‘Nope’: The Meaning Behind Jordan Peele’s Most Terrifying Scene Yet by Richard Newby explains the subtext of this film better than I ever could. Give it a read if you wanna know more about the function of Gordy, the balloons, and the erasure of the Haywood family by Hollywood.
Be warned, Newby’s review is full of spoilers so maybe give the movie a watch first.
How It Rates on the Scale of Jordan Peele
While this may be my new favorite Jordan Peele film, it certainly is not his strongest structurally. Get Out continues to be his tightest script in terms of horror and plot. However, Nope is just plain fun.
Get Out is truly frightening at times due to the unsettling nature of the situation. The surreal feeling of things not being quite right. The sinister nature of not belonging. Get Out unnerves you.
Nope might be easier on a rewatch because it’s a spectacle. It’s got action to keep you focused. It layers humor to keep you loose between the stress of what’s frightening.
If you take the meaning of the film at its surface level, the horror is an alien evil. Dig a little deeper and it’s rooted in the nature of humans to chase a spectacle to the point of doom.
This idea is at the heart of this story as we follow two siblings who, despite being the descendants of “the first movie star,” are shut out of the running of Hollywood’s nepotism. They want to save their legacy and conspire to do it together.
What I’ve always loved about Jordan Peele is that his niche is self informed by his passion for creating the content he would like to see. His identity as a POC informs his artistry.
Peele wants to see Black faces in the genre he loves so he features them himself. He’s subverting the horror genre and helping to redefine its mold for modern audiences.
The result of this footage is real fear, evolutionary human fear of the dark. Your eyes scan the scene as OJ scans the scene. You’re looking for what does not belong. You’re trying to get a sense of the danger before it surprises you.
Unfortunately, despite your best attempts to prepare yourself, you will see something move in the shadows and immediately be unnerved.
There’s nothing quite as frightening as the potential of what could be lurking in the dark. Peele exploits this fear well.
Classics Inspire the New
Jordan Peele is a film nerd like many of the rest of us. People have been comparing Nope to films such as Jaws and Close Encounters of a Third Kind.
Considering I’ve seen neither of those start to finish, I think it demands a watch in the next couple months leading up to Halloween.
Actors Help Shape Their Character
Brandon Perea’s breakout role as Angel Torres was shaped by his audition. Peele rewrote scenes to reflect the direction Perea took the character in his audition.
It moved the character from the happy-go-lucky employee to a guy who lowkey hates working at an electronics store. Obviously one feels more real.
This adaptability is what I love about the process of filmmaking. Peele wrote a character. This character gained substance through Perea’s perception of them. Peele then reflected this change in his subsequent script rewrites.
This is what I’ve always enjoyed about film, theater, and writing. Despite someone conceptualizing everything, the process becomes highly collaborative and grows organically with the input of others.
Exploitation & the Spectacle
Peele has said, “Any time that we’re going to make money off of the human need to see something crazy, that to me is what I call specticalization.”
This idea of spectacle reminds me of Guillermo Del Toro’s Nightmare Alley where I learned the horrors of the carnival geek. The film asks how far is one willing to go in the pursuit of attention? How far will one go for the spectacle?
A carnival geek is someone so low on the social ladder that their only job is to horrify an audience by biting off the head of a live animal. They were turned into “savages” for profit. They were humans exploited for the sake of the spectacle.
In Peele’s Nope, we can see a parallel between the bloodshed of the creature and the bloodshed of Gordan. They were both living beings exploited for the purpose of spectacle.
In both the tv show and the side show, we are invited to the spectacle. We greedily consume for our entertainment and are in turn consumed by the entertainment itself.
Society cannot allow themselves to have the script flipped and be consumed by those who are supposed to entertain them. Since the creatures can no longer serve their purpose, they must be annihilated.
The Violence of Attention
If you watch any of the round table discussions between Peele and his actors you can hear fully how they have connected through their characters to the themes of exploitation and erasure.
I think this feeling not only connects him to his character Jupiter, who cannot detach from his childhood persona, but also any person whose life is seen through the view of a lens.
Jupiter experienced something incredibly traumatizing in his childhood. However, this experience was rebranded into comedy by an SNL sketch. Therefore, Jupiter continues through life performing for others while continuing the narrative of his trauma’s rebranding as spectacle.
We see this in his interaction with Emerald and OJ in his secret room devoted to his old memorabilia. There’s an unnerving juxtaposition between Jupiter’s performance of his persona and the reality of the experience which we see in a flashback.
Instead of getting real with the Haywood siblings he continues the narrative of the spectacle.
The Violence of Attention, Pt II.
This film also features a TMZ reporter performing the hard hitting reporter role willing to do anything to get his shot, even at the risk of death.
If we follow the logic of the film, whatever content he was able to film would likely have been passed along the river of social media. People would be horrified, but ultimately the content would be highly successful in its view count.
Our entertainment, or more so our deep desire for spectacle, often comes at the expense of downplaying the experiences of real human beings. Take for example the phenomena of drivers slowing down as they pass a crash just to see what’s going on.
Final Thoughts on Peele’s Nope
I personally really enjoyed this film and the fact that it gave me lots of research to do. I’ve never been the kind of person who likes their subtext spoon fed to them so Peele’s style works well enough for me.
If you want to look at a weirder take of humanity’s obsession with spectacle (especially the phenomena of drivers slowing for a crash) go watch David Cronenberg‘s Crash (1996). Spilling my secrets here, but this movie made me say, “Am I weird or was that kind of hot?”
Every Baz Luhrmann film is a unique experience and his new film Elvis is no exception. I know the editing process is incredibly involved, especially after watching the film four times, but it’s clearly worth all the time and effort. There are so many transitions, split screens, camera angles, and visual effects throughout the film. Elvis is a story with a true heartbeat with the soundtrack as its rhythmic beat.
The fade ins and fade outs at the beginning of the film don’t always work for me, but the ones based on movement such as the image of a vinyl spinning into the next shot keep the rhythm of the film moving along. Likewise, I’m not sold on every split screen, but there is a storytelling purpose to some.
Luhrmann’s films always have an iconic wardrobe. This is thanks to his constant collaborator and wife, Catherine Martin, a dedicated designer based in passion and research. The results of this collaboration is seen clearly in each of his movies’ production, costume, and set designs.
Catherine Martin is a Visionary
Martin, like Luhrmann himself, allowed herself leeway for artistic interpretation of the costume design. She partnered with both Prada and Miu Miu to design the costumes for Olivia De Jong’s Priscilla Presley. This is what I always love about Luhrmann’s films. They don’t restrict themselves to the most accurate representation of costume designs. I am fully able to comprehend how Priscilla Presley was considered a style icon because her costume designs are fresh.
There’s a shot about midway through the film with Elvis and Priscilla sitting together in the bedroom area of his trailer on a Hollywood film lot. The background is a vibrant red which is a staple piece color for most of his films. Priscilla wears a gorgeous deep sky blue top with matching pants. The contrast between the two colors is incredibly striking. You absolutely cannot look away from the scene.
Catherine Designs Elvis with Purpose
In the last third of the film, the conflict between Elvis and the colonel comes to a climax when Elvis fires him. It doesn’t take long before an encounter between them has the Colonel’s tactics of emotional and monetary manipulation sinking their teeth back into Elvis. Elvis returns to his suite broken and ready to be reined back in. As he closes the curtains on his suite, bathing his room in darkness, he says to his father, “tell the Colonel I want things to go back to the way they were.” He then climbs onto the semi-circle couch facing a row of television sets.
Elvis’ Vegas suite is “designed to look like a golden cage and sarcophagus with a very specific view of Las Vegas,” according to a recent Vogue article. To me, as Elvis closes the curtains on his view of Vegas, he is closing himself off from the illusion of freedom. When he settles into the couch, it feels as if he has climbed back onto the perch of his cage. The script, emotion from the actors, and set design work in sync particularly well in this scene.
The film as a whole served me moments of awestruck wonder over all its details. They add up to a world entirely constructed but feels incredibly real despite the grandiosity typical of Luhrmann’s directorial style.
Another pair of Oscars might be heading their way towards Catherine Martin for her design efforts. She previously won two Oscars for both Moulin Rouge (2001) and The Great Gatsby (2013).
Austin Butler is the New Talk of the Town
Austin Butler’s performance as Elvis is a true highlight of the overall film. This man devoted two full years of research into this role and it shows. It is apparent in all the little mannerisms and stage presence shining through in the film.
There are so many moments in the movie where I am fully able to let go of Austin Butler the actor and see only Elvis. I believe it is an incredible feat for any actor to meld so seamlessly into a different person.
The vulnerability on his face as he cries after the death of his mother is heartbreaking. He looks so young with red rimmed, tear filled eyes. It’s such a contrast from the easy going smirks he normally wears throughout the film.
I’m Fangirling a Bit, Can You Tell
Besides his talent, good god the man looks phenomenal. Never in my life did I believe that I would be in a chokehold over Elvis, Austin Butler, and Austin Butler as Elvis. We’re here now though and I have zero regrets.
His first performance in the pink suit paired with the lace shirt underneath had me absolutely feral. Baz’s true talent is modernizing experiences of the past. He knew what he was doing here.
The Colonel at this point has noticed the effect Elvis is having on the crowd. He remarks, “She was having feelings she wasn’t sure she should enjoy. He was a taste of forbidden fruit and she could have eaten him alive.” Despite a questionable accent by Tom Hanks, I somehow found myself agreeing with him.
The very first time I saw the film I had to look over to my friend with my jaw dropped as Butler wiggled across the stage and an electric guitar took over the soundtrack. I’m fully aware I would have been just another screaming fan begging for a kiss from Presley. I have this film to thank for that knowledge.
This performance deserves a serious evaluation for an Oscar nomination.
Elvis Presley and the Appropriation of Black Music and Culture
As for the controversy which has surrounded the legacy of Elvis Presley, specifically the appropriation of Black music, I think Luhrmann has at the very least offered an opinion to his audiences.
The film portrays Elvis’ choices as reflecting a deep appreciation for the music he recorded. After all, during his lifetime, Elvis never claimed the title of “King of Rock and Roll,” saying he was “just an entertainer” when referred to as such.
At times I think the perception of Elvis’ legacy, specifically by his white fan base, has done him a disservice. It asserts him as the “be all end all” of rock and roll despite the multitude of Black artists who so rightly deserve the title and recognition. I don’t say so to diminish Elvis’ accomplishments and talents as a performer, but to reflect on the reality of privilege he enjoyed in life and in death.
Baz Tries For Complexity But Still Falls a Bit Short
In the film specifically, I love that we as the audience never forget the roots of Elvis’ fame. His fame is due to his exposure and proximity to Black music in his childhood and teenage years. Gospel and rhythm and blues are forerunners of Elvis’ backstory.
During Elvis’ Las Vegas rendition of “That’s All Right Mama,” the split screen ties Elvis back to Arthur Crudup’s original version, as well as Elvis’ first recording of it during the 50s. The film tells you not to forget who came first.
Other than this specific instance, we get a taste of Beale Street through recreations of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton, Little Richard, B.B. King, and later on in the film Mahalia Jackson and Fats Domino. For some viewers, these might be unfamiliar names which deserve their time in the spotlight.
Unfortunately this time is still relative and small in relation to Elvis in the film. I believe that Luhrmann has tried to showcase Black music and culture within the film, but the iconography of Elvis still overshadows them as he is the biopic’s core subject.
At best, this effort reveals the admiration Elvis had for Black music. At worst, it is an excuse for his appropriation of said music over his career.
That Soundtrack Though
At the very least there are Black artists getting a cut of the pie of the biopic’s immense success. It seems only right that Black musicians profit off of his continued fame through their artistry on the soundtrack. By now we’ve all heard Doja Cat’s “Vegas” which is a chart topping vibe, but the soundtrack has many other highlights.
Yola’s performance as Sister Rosetta Tharpe and her song “Strange Things Are Happening Everyday” are pure talent. Shonka Dukureh singing as Big Mama Thornton feels fresh and powerful. Another strong favorite is Jazmine Sullivan’s haunting rendition of “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.”
Give them a listen. Or just keep listening seeing as the soundtrack is highly ranked on multiple Billboard charts already!
Unreliable Narrator is also Unlikeable
The film lacks true direction at times due to the Colonel’s narration and storyline, which feels out of place at times and jolting at others. My friend says the Colonel’s scenes add to the dream-like aspect of the film. I’m not sure I agree.
The Colonel is an unreliable narrator. The Colonel believed they were partners, told us he didn’t take advantage of Elvis, and it was the pills to blame for Elvis’ demise. The story proceeds to out him as a liar.
The Colonel’s use as an unreliable narrator means I paid more attention to my own perception of Elvis. The relationship between Elvis and his manager is obviously fraught with conflict and exploitation. As an unreliable narrator we can’t trust his perception of the situation at all.
As a plot device the Colonel serves his purpose. I’m not sure I enjoy hearing parts of the film from his perspective, but I can accept it as an element of an original portrayal of Elvis’ story.
Tom Hanks’ accent for Colonel Tom Parker was the most distracting element on my first watch. Surprisingly, it’s gotten less offensive over time somehow. It makes for an excellent impression to add to my friends’ catalogs.
After all, at this point we all agree, there’s nothing quite like “snow business.”
Don’t Let Your Assumptions Color Your Viewing
During my first watch I was even a bit distracted by the closeness between Elvis and his mother finding it a bit weird and off putting, but on each re-watch I’ve reflected why I felt this way to begin with and have come to find the relationship both genuine and understandable.
Another criticism is what I can only describe as virtue signaling during the scenes related to Martin Luther King Jr’s death as well as Robert F. Kennedy. After conducting my own extensive research into Elvis as a person, I realized my own assumptions about Elvis might have colored my opinion on this during my first watch. After doing my own reading, I know Elvis was not a racist, but the film portrays him as being more outspoken than he publicly was during this time.
However, one the absolute highlights of the film is the performance of If I Can Dream. This song is a more honest expression than his line, “Dr. King, he always spoke the truth.” The music sections are truly the gems of this film, so much so that I’m willing to let its weak spots slide.
The Feelings Keep Hitting
As for the emotional beats of the film, they continue to hit time and time again. Two of my favorite scenes are towards the end of the film and they both involve Priscilla.
The scene where she leaves him is dynamic in that Priscilla starts off in a place of defensiveness and slowly moves into vulnerability by the end of the scene. He asks her not to go and her response is, “Do you remember the last time we laughed together?” That. Line. Killed. Me.
Combine it with his statement a few lines later of: “When you’re 40 and I’m 50 we’ll be back together.” You truly feel that these two people love each other, but understand the relationship is not equal or fair. It’s also tragic, because we know Elvis will never make it to 50.
In the last scene with Priscilla she asks him to go to rehab. She tearfully tells him, “If you dream it, you can do it.” This mirrors the first scene Priscilla is featured in where she tells him the same thing. 1958 Elvis takes her statement in stride, confident with her support, 1975 Elvis however is “all out of dreams.”
This statement is heartbreaking. This once vibrant man is broken down by his circumstances. He is empty after those around him have taken their own slice of the pie that is Elvis. The result has left him empty of hope and dreams.
A Strong, Personal Ending
Baz certainly thrives in his world of organized chaos. While many directors fail to bring it home in their third act, I’ve never felt this was true of Baz Luhrmann. He struggles the most in the first act where the viewer must get used to his larger than real life world. However, his third act is always tightly structured and exhilarating. I believe this may be why his films are rewatchable to the point of fanaticism.
The conclusion of the film finishes on real footage of Elvis’ last concert in 1977. His performance of “Unchained Melody” is absolutely heart wrenching. Baz intercuts this song with a quote from a 1971 speech:
“When I was a child, ladies and gentlemen, I was a dreamer. I read comic books, and I was the hero of the comic book. I saw movies, and I was the hero in the movie. So every dream I ever dreamed, has come true a hundred times… I’d like to say that I learned very early in life that “Without a song, the day would never end; without a song, a man ain’t got a friend; without a song, the road would never bend — without a song.” So I keep singing a song.”
The combination of these while showing snippets of Elvis over his lifetime is a deadly mix. It delivers my guaranteed tears each time.
What This Film Means To Me
I wonder if perhaps the reasons why the film has become so popular is not just the allure of the grandeur of Baz Luhrmann’s directorial style, but also the throughline of dreams in the film. It’s a relatable connection to Elvis.
Many of us begin our existences with a thirst for life. Our dreams are bigger than life. Over time circumstances beat those dreams out of us until we are left aimless. This may not be everyone’s experience, but I believe it is enough to warrant a deep connection to the film.
There is nothing more tragic than the death of your dreams. That’s what I feel I understand about Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis after watching this film.
Now Tell Me What You Think
So here are my questions. What is your opinion on the film? Do you agree or disagree with any of my takes? If you loved the film, what were your favorite scenes or costumes? How many of you are as enamored by Austin Butler as I am? Did this film reinforce or change your perception of Elvis Presley?
