Last year’s runaway Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody shone in spite of its myriad of flaws.
I’m happy to report that Elton John’s journey film Rocketman succeeds by raising the camp dial to 11 and filling in the gaps Rhapsody couldn’t.
Taron Egerton, of Kingsman fame, owns the screen in a captivating, surreal performance in which he disappears beneath the sequined, peacock clothing and envelopes himself in the tortured, tremendous artist.
Rocketman is a bombastic musical showcase with beguiling sex appeal and a charismatic lead, and you won’t be able to help becoming infatuated with Egerton’s rough-and-tumble portrayal of the troubled rock god.
It’s an immaculately shot film that plays like performance art, with a central performance worth an Oscar. Co-stars Jamie Bell and Richard Madden are also up to the task, in a film that neither glorifies John too much or shies away from his issues.
This is Rocketman, edges all in, and it’s a bravura film in an age where originality can kill. It truly is a beautiful work.