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Elvis Has Become a Character, Not a Person

Last year, in my review of King Richard, I described my disinterest in what I called the “Celebration movie” genre. These films function essentially as positive press for stars or celebrities—and by inevitable necessity play loose with the facts. As I wrote then:

I question the value of a “biography” made with its own subjects’ approval in mind, other than as fan service; the usual purpose of a biography is to illuminate truths that the subjects may not want to come to light, in order to supplement, round out, or even contradict the popular image. Since King Richard is not interested in doing any of this, there’s little reason to see it.

A similar dynamic is at play in the new biopic, Elvis, directed by Baz Luhrmann and starring Austin Butler. But it’s not quite the same. Because unlike the Williams tennis family, Elvis Presley has already been the subject of many movies, and he’ll surely be the subject of many more to come. He’s also long dead, which means that neither he nor his estate stands to gain much financially from the venture.

The ones who do stand to gain from a movie like Elvis are the viewers who cherish Elvis Presley as a preeminent American hero. Because while Elvis may not need press, he does need, as James Bond does every so often, a reinvention—a reboot of his character that will allow him to fit back into the national psyche. After all, since his last movie appearance, Elvis has accumulated some skeptics and haters: many wonder, for instance, whether he was an artistic freeloader, hijacking Black musical aesthetics for his own fame and fortune.

Never fear, though. Because just as Bond maneuvered to avert nuclear war in the 1960’s but last year endeavored to fight bioterrorism, Elvis Presley in this new film stands against…the scourge of racism.

Must we really do this? Must we break down historical figures and reassemble them into 2020’s-approved versions of themselves? In addition to being inaccurate, it prevents any nuanced discussion or commentary about the issues at hand. For example, in the movie, Elvis yearns to fight injustice, as if he could enlist against it like a soldier. But racism isn’t some cabal that one can try to take down; it’s something pervasive that culturally affects everyone. Framing the story in this way ensures that we learn nothing about Elvis and nothing about racism.

In addition to Elvis’s new role as a would-be Civil Rights hero, the other focus of the movie is Elvis’s financial exploitation at the hands of greedy capitalists (represented by an unwatchably campy Tom Hanks). This theme, also, just happens to be 2020’s-approved—informing, for example, recent national stories like Brittany Spears’ proprietorship and NCAA athlete compensation.

Maybe once the polar ice caps melt a little more, we’ll get a biopic about how Elvis fought the evils of climate change.

In summary, the only purpose of this movie is to rehabilitate Elvis Presley—to assuage our collective anxiety that he hasn’t deserved our worship over the decades. But such movies don’t ring true, even as propaganda. Because Elvis is not James Bond. He’s a real person with a legacy like any real person’s: complicated and context-dependent. Maybe in his next reboot, he’ll come closer to feeling like one.

 

–Jim Andersen

For more reviews, check out my review of Women Talking.