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 From
the first moments we see him, the wiry pre-performance energy, to the
natural strut in his walk – even before hitting the stage – it’s
Freddie. The depth of actor Rami Malek’s commitment to portraying one
of the greatest frontmen in rock history is astounding. It’s not as
much a performance as a channeling; with Malek seemingly possessed by
Queen lead singer Freddie Mercury, to at least get the swagger right if
they couldn’t get a good script. Malek’s is a performance worthy of an
Oscar nomination, even if the vehicle is less so.
BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY gives us a Cliff Notes version of the life and rise of
one of the greatest bands in rock and roll, starting with the end, with
what many consider the band’s zenith; their set at 1985’s historic
charity concert, Live Aid. After a long period of estrangement, the
group came together to deliver what was a transcendent performance that
betrayed none of the drama and tragedy behind the scenes. After that
framework, we meet young Freddie Mercury – formerly Farrokh Bulsara –
doing what many a young person in late-sixties England would do on a
Saturday night; hang out at the club, checking out the local bands, and
the local talent. Two great discoveries occur during these travels, he
meets Mary, who will become the literal Love of his Life (He wrote a
song about her, wanna hear it?), and he sees potential in a band
called Smile; who in a great strike of fortune, have just lost their
lead singer.
Guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor don’t know what to make of
this dark, foppish lad with a stunning set of outsized choppers, until
that cavernous maw opens, and so do the heavens. Joined by bassist John
Deacon, and imbued with Freddie’s flamboyant style, and baroque
compositions, the boys lose their Smile and gain a Queen. Their live
shows catch fire across England, and the band is signed to a recording
contract, posthaste. Queen’s mix of rock and glam captivates
Europe (and Japan, and the US), but it isn’t until they invent
one of the strangest pop singles ever that they peel off from the pack
and establish themselves as something quite different to your average
3-chord wonder.
Of
course, with fame comes swelled head and hangers-on, and Freddie, a
grande dame from the outset, becomes too big for Queen’s britches. He
wanders off solo; testing and taking in every temptation on the way.
During the time of Queen’s most prominent fame, an illness begins to
fester around the world, striking down the gay community in shocking
numbers. Even the rich and powerful are not exempt, and so Freddie
discovers he has contracted AIDS. In the days when the disease was new
and treatment practically nonexistent, the diagnosis was considered a
death sentence. Freddie hides the sickness from all but his closest,
and carries on until he can sing no more.
BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY is plagued by its script’s clunkiness, and rickety
outline structure. Oftentimes, it becomes awkward exposition theatre:
Early on, when the band starts really bonding, Freddie has his new
friends and their mates round to his parents’ for tea. That would be
lovely if not for it seeming only a set-up for Freddie’s father -- who
hasn’t been shown as the chattiest guy on earth -- to give a long-winded
and terribly informative dissertation on anti-Indian persecution (The
Bulsaras were Persian) in their home in Zanzibar, and the Bulsara
family’s flight from it. A worthy subject, to be sure, but would one
really go on at length in the jolly company of a bunch of youthful guys
and gals at teatime?
There
is much stilted explication throughout, with characters describing
themselves and their situations, and why the audience should know them,
as opposed to having natural interactions with other characters. It
feels rather like a Queen pop-up primer, with about the same level of
sophistication. It’s also used as a manipulation tool; such as when
Freddie’s manager-turned-lover-turned-remora (Played by the
appropriately-named Allen Leech), gives a tearful speech – apropos
of nothing – letting us all know how he suffered as a gay man in
Ireland. That revelation made no difference to the story, at all. It’s
an even stranger choice when the film’s got a lot of band history to
cover, and only so much time to do it – which was why I supposed they
crammed in all the awkward, tell-it-don’t-show-it exposition, edgeways.
As
part of the story of one of rock’s most legendarily -- and elegantly --
debauched stars, it is confounding that Mercury’s vices are handled with
extreme kid gloves. One might have expected Freddie’s raunchy life to
be depicted as -- raunchy, perhaps? His debauchery is more hinted at
and alluded to than anything. According to this film, it seems people
contract AIDS by urgent hugging -- of which, even that Freddie does next
to none. There is one sequence where Freddie throws one of his
legendary bacchanals, which shows us a weird mashup of allusions to
Queen hits -- fat-bottomed girls riding bicycles, for instance -- that
is supposed to evince what a hard partier he was. The iniquity was so
sanitised for the viewer’s protection, that more than once I wondered
whether this was a Disney film.
I had
forgotten about reading that BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY had changed directors
during shooting, but once reminded, it made perfect sense. There is a
feeling of disjointedness throughout, in terms of pacing, chronology,
and narrative. The way the film jumps about from one era to another,
and makes claims that seem dubious (Particularly regarding the timing
of Queen’s reception in the US), is confusing to Queen fans, and
uninitiated, alike.
Speaking of dubious claims, while understanding a little thing called
poetic license, there is a patently false assertion that Mercury’s
family were supportive -- or even aware -- of Freddie’s gay lifestyle.
It might have been well-intentioned, but Mercury’s own mother stated he
never came out to them, and so the scene feels mawkish and manipulative,
meant to tie up Freddie’s story with a big, red bow.
The
film does contain some saving graces. It does exhibit moments of real
humour, mostly amongst the band members: The considerations to
release drummer Roger Taylor’s blissfully uncomplicated “I Love My Car,”
over the byzantine, bizarre “Bohemian Rhapsody” as the band’s lead
single, are a riot. So, too, are the reunion negotiations between
the estranged members after Freddie’s ego and bad behaviour leads him
crawling back to the band with tail firmly tucked between legs. Those
scenes, even in the strife of massive ego, drugs, and money, displays
the strange, but powerful connection between the four men, who really,
at heart, are a crew of oddballs, nerds and misfits, gravitated together
by the splendid sounds they conjured.
As
required by any film about Queen, we have a steady supply of
razor-tongued wit and cut-downs from our notoriously acid singer.
Archly funny is Freddie’s clever workaround against the refusal of radio
stations to play the epically long “Bohemian Rhapsody.” He employs his
close friend, the puckish, naughty, British camp legend, Kenny Everett,
to spin it ad nauseum during his national DJ set. Alternately, there’s
also a ton of cheese to swallow along with those glimpses of
cleverness. Witness the forcedly cheerful creation of Queen anthem, “We
Will Rock You,” and cringe.
Waxing
rhapsodic on Malek’s performance a bit more: A bit of unintended comedy
is watching the actor try to manoeuvre his way around the giant Mercury
choppers -- and not always victoriously. As Malek seizes every part of
Mercury’s physicality, he makes the teeth a defiant part of Freddie’s
attitude -- not that he needed any help in the attitude department. The
sass, the shade, the viper’s tongue, the costumes, the utter fabulosity
is on full display, but Malek brings us into the heart beneath the
over-the-top image. While so much emphasis is set on Mercury’s
relationship with his constant Mary, these scenes take us beneath his
glittered shell, and reveal a real vulnerability. While I don’t reckon
Freddie Mercury regretted living life to its fullest, even after his
fatal diagnosis; Malek captures glimmers where one can sense that in
some moments, Mary represents the simpler life that could have been.
Lucy
Boynton is wonderful as Freddie’s “Best Friend,” and his ”Love Of My
Life.” Mary’s unflagging adoration and support of Freddie, even when
she first senses something is amiss between them -- which turns out to
be Freddie’s sexual confusion and increasing clarity -- is a marvel.
Mary is an anchor in the craziness that Freddie helps create, and while
it is selfish, Freddie’s outburst when Mary eventually finds herself
somebody to love her the way she needs to be, is understandable.
Boynton’s chemistry with Malek shows us how their real-life counterparts
were such true soul mates.
Gwilym
Lee, Ben Hardy, and Joseph Mazzello portray the other members of Queen,
and they are all excellent, with Hardy capturing the impish, pretty
Taylor, in all his trademark rock drummer hot temper and love of excess.
Lee’s Brian May, however, is uncanny. Not only is Lee a dead ringer
for the guitar god, physically, but the similarities in gesture and
stance, as well as May’s slightly drawling manner of speech, made me
forget I wasn’t looking at the real thing several times. Each actor
keeps apace with Malek’s star turn.
One
thing BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY succeeds at too well is ripping open afresh
wounds felt at Freddie Mercury’s passing. It may have felt more intense
due to Rami Malek’s complete capturing of Mercury’s spirit, as well as
the film being a showcase of the glory of the Queen catalog. The
filmmakers make the bold decision to recreate Queen’s entire 20-minute
set at Live Aid, to stunning effect. There really will never be anyone
like Freddie Mercury, and BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY brings that home, too well.
On the
whole, BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY is wildly uneven, but very entertaining. Thank
goodness the magnificent performances of Messrs. Malek, Lee, Hardy,
Mazzello, and Mlle. Boynton are the steady anchors that moor the clunky,
unsteady script.
~ The
Lady Miz Diva
Nov. 2nd,
2018
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