At the urging of many (believe it or not), my wife and I went with another couple last night to see the Elton John Bio-pic-musical-autobiography called, "Rocket Man."
Apparently, I am one of the very few humans NOT aware that all the lyrics of his songs were written by one Bernie Taupin, who one might observe is about the only person portrayed in the film - including "Elton John" himself - who does not come across as a complete dick.
Most people who see the film have enjoyed it, and there are some aspects of it that might justify spending the $2.50 to get in: The music itself, the costumes (maybe), and the details about this great artist's life and times. The women-folk seemed to enjoy it more than the men.
Although I like much of Elton John's music and enjoyed being reintroduced to the fact that he wrote a shit-load of popular songs over the years, I'm not so thrilled at seeing an actor perform those songs rather than the original artist. Can't say he did it badly, but he's not EJ.
There was no explanation of why EJ insisted on performing in more and more ridiculous outfits over the years - maybe he was trying to expose some of the more insulated members in the audience to the joys of a Gay Pride parade, about the only place where his costumes would not have seemed out of place. The costumes were a major part of this production. Did EJ think his audience demanded these costumes? Don't know.
Not surprisingly, there are more than enough gay flirting, carrying on, and sex scenes - nauseating but common these days, I guess. And there are also many portrayals of the Subject ingesting various illegal "controlled substances." And we again find out how difficult it is to live the live a a musician with more money than God...the Rolls', the mansions, the armies of minions providing for your every want or need, how people around you try to suck up your wealth and your fame...Yawn.
The writer - presumably with EJ's concurrence - ascribes many of John's neuroses to the fact that his father never hugged him and his mother was a crazy bitch.
Spoiler Alert: Mr. J is now "married," clean, and devoting much of his time and effort to raising their two toddler boys. And shopping.
Good grief.
I would not recommend this film. Listen to an album of EJ's greatest hits or something instead; your time will be better spent. Maybe I found the film nauseating because neither my father nor my sainted mother ever hugged me, that I can recall.
Apparently, I am one of the very few humans NOT aware that all the lyrics of his songs were written by one Bernie Taupin, who one might observe is about the only person portrayed in the film - including "Elton John" himself - who does not come across as a complete dick.
Most people who see the film have enjoyed it, and there are some aspects of it that might justify spending the $2.50 to get in: The music itself, the costumes (maybe), and the details about this great artist's life and times. The women-folk seemed to enjoy it more than the men.
Although I like much of Elton John's music and enjoyed being reintroduced to the fact that he wrote a shit-load of popular songs over the years, I'm not so thrilled at seeing an actor perform those songs rather than the original artist. Can't say he did it badly, but he's not EJ.
There was no explanation of why EJ insisted on performing in more and more ridiculous outfits over the years - maybe he was trying to expose some of the more insulated members in the audience to the joys of a Gay Pride parade, about the only place where his costumes would not have seemed out of place. The costumes were a major part of this production. Did EJ think his audience demanded these costumes? Don't know.
Not surprisingly, there are more than enough gay flirting, carrying on, and sex scenes - nauseating but common these days, I guess. And there are also many portrayals of the Subject ingesting various illegal "controlled substances." And we again find out how difficult it is to live the live a a musician with more money than God...the Rolls', the mansions, the armies of minions providing for your every want or need, how people around you try to suck up your wealth and your fame...Yawn.
The writer - presumably with EJ's concurrence - ascribes many of John's neuroses to the fact that his father never hugged him and his mother was a crazy bitch.
Spoiler Alert: Mr. J is now "married," clean, and devoting much of his time and effort to raising their two toddler boys. And shopping.
Good grief.
I would not recommend this film. Listen to an album of EJ's greatest hits or something instead; your time will be better spent. Maybe I found the film nauseating because neither my father nor my sainted mother ever hugged me, that I can recall.
