Media and Music: “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “Rocketman,” and How (Not) to Make a Musical Biopic
“Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Rocketman” take on larger-than-life musicians Freddie Mercury and Elton John. One of these movies respectfully and accurately depicts the relationship one of these men has with sexuality, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. The other movie is “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
In Media and Music, our writers take a deep dive into how movies use scores and songs to engage viewers, give new meaning and tone to some of our favorite scenes, and establish themes. It almost goes without saying, but there are spoilers abound.
Written by Minnah Zaheer
“Bohemian Rhapsody” has quite a few qualifiers that would, upon first glance, place it above “Rocketman”: it grossed nearly $1 billion at the box office while “Rocketman” only grossed about $125 million. It was also nominated for five Academy Awards, four of which it actually won (most notably a Best Actor award for star Rami Malek). It wasn’t exactly a critical darling, but it generated an active and dedicated fanbase.
Despite what its numerous accolades might suggest, its depiction of Freddie Mercury is abhorrent and borderline slanderous.
“Bohemian Rhapsody” is surrounded by a myriad of controversies. It took nearly eight years to produce, went through multiple actors and directors before settling on its final creative team (which changed during production), and sparked a hot debate about what qualifies as “good” film editing. But in comparison to “Rocketman,” it becomes apparent that one of the most egregious mistakes “Bohemian Rhapsody” makes is bastardizing the life of Freddie Mercury in order to make surviving Queen members (and executive producers of the film) Brian May and Roger Taylor, as well as former Queen member John Deacon, look like they were personally wronged by Freddie.
The film gets a few key facts wrong about Freddie’s involvement in the band: most notably, the subplot of the movie depicting Freddie breaking up the band to launch his solo career. In reality, Freddie did release two solo albums, but the brief hiatus Queen took in 1983 was one that the entire group felt they needed — they were all exhausted after churning out albums and tours without breaks — not just Freddie. In an interview with Mojo magazine, May said, “All of us left the band at some point, and not just one time — all the way through.” There’s something incredibly dishonest about the scene where Freddie asks then-Queen manager Jim “Miami” Beach to set up a meeting with the other members of Queen and subsequently begs for their forgiveness. There was never any bad blood between the band, especially not to the degree that the film manufactures it to appear.
When “Bohemian Rhapsody” attempts to show us a more personal side of Freddie and his life outside of Queen, it essentially creates a cocktail of gay stereotypes that bend the facts of his story and make him seem unsympathetic and cold, detracting from the heart and charisma the real Freddie had. Freddie was in committed relationships with men throughout his life and remained close friends with ex-fiancée Mary Austin after they broke up until his death from complications due to his AIDS diagnosis.
In the scene where he comes out to his then-fiancée Austin, he says he thinks he’s bisexual, and she replies with, “You’re gay, Freddie. I’ve known for a while.” He doesn’t correct her, implying that Freddie doesn’t know how to label his sexuality, and Austin does. From this point on, the film lumps Freddie’s relationships with men into the same category as his wild parties, the booze he drank, and drugs he did: a distraction from what really matters, a cause for all his problems, a sharp dive away from the right way to live. His bandmates express disgust rather than concern throughout the whole movie, culminating in the fictional $4 million solo deal that Freddie takes, after being prompted to do so by the primary villain of the movie Paul Prenter (who also happened to be gay and a former lover of Freddie’s, and who died of AIDS-related complications the same year Freddie did).
The argument can and has been made that these “creative liberties” were taken to make the film more interesting, but their dishonesty and misrepresentation of the true story of Mercury’s life should be criticized to avoid destroying the reputation of a man whose impact on music and the world cannot be understated.
Five months after the release of “Bohemian Rhapsody” came “Rocketman,” a biopic about Elton John’s life starring Taron Egerton, that begins with his childhood and concludes with the start of his time in rehab. “Rocketman” certainly doesn’t get everything exactly right in depicting Elton’s life, but its creative liberties peak at mixing up a few dates and adding a bit of magic to key scenes (his famed first night at the Troubador in New York City didn’t, unfortunately, involve Elton or the entire audience levitating off the ground in slow-motion).
Perhaps it’s because Elton is alive to defend himself from potential defamation akin to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” or it’s because the creative team behind “Rocketman” didn’t seem like they were taking themselves too seriously. But the way “Rocketman” depicts Elton is exactly as he was, and is: a flawed (former) addict with a ridiculous amount of talent and a giant heart to match. It’s a larger-than-life, fantastical, gloriously gay film.
Spearheaded by a stellar performance and Elton John covers recorded by Egerton, “Rocketman” doesn’t shy away from anything — it includes a plethora of musical scenes and dance numbers, two scenes containing gay sex, and lots of drugs and drinks, similar to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” But what sets it apart from the Queen biopic is its distinction between Elton’s struggle to be himself and his addiction. Where “Bohemian Rhapsody” draws lines of comparison between Freddie’s substance abuse and his gay lifestyle, “Rocketman” shows us that Elton is his happiest and truest self when he’s not hiding himself away for the benefit of others. His sexuality exists alongside his pure elation while on stage and his close personal friendship with lyricist Bernie Taupin, with whom he’s worked for over 30 years.
As musicals are known to do, “Rocketman” features a number of electric performances of Elton hits, sung by Egerton himself (and not lip-synced like Malek did for “Bohemian Rhapsody”). One of the strongest scenes of the movie happens when Elton, grown up and trying to make it as a musician, is living at his mother’s house with Bernie. Elton sits at the piano and slowly assembles what would become one of his greatest hits, “Your Song.” Elton starts by almost absentmindedly playing notes and looking over Bernie’s lyrics, then formulates the song and looks into Bernie’s eyes with an expression of love, platonic or otherwise, as he plays it. By the end of the song he’s in the studio, recording it. When it’s over, he looks up, the mesmerized look on his face replaced by an almost blank expression, as if he’s completely unaware of what he just accomplished. “How was that?” he asks. The scene does for Elton what “Bohemian Rhapsody” was never able to do for Freddie: it portrays him as a multifaceted human being, with a myriad of complicated but all-too-familiar human emotions. Egerton’s performance combined with the fragility of the scene sets it above and beyond any similar scene in “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
“Rocketman” is not without flaws: its reliance on tropes of musicals and biopics hinders its ability to stand out for its attempts to go beyond the conventions of filmmaking, which it often does. It also does get a few key dates and progressions of events wrong. But when compared to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” an arguably stronger and more uniquely told story (albeit a largely false one), one thing is for certain: it’s authentic. It’s rough, and raw, and perfectly imperfect. “Bohemian Rhapsody,” on the other hand, takes the legacy of one of the greatest musicians of all time and tarnishes it beyond recognition.