Film Weekly

Simply magnifico

November 14-20, 2018
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Gulf Weekly Simply magnifico

Gulf Weekly Kristian Harrison
By Kristian Harrison

Bohemian Rhapsody

Starring: Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Gwilym Lee

Director: Bryan Singer

Genre: Biographical/Muscal

Rating: PG-13

RUNTIME: 134 Mins

 

Extra incisors — that’s how a young Freddie Mercury, played with magnetism and breath-taking physicality by Rami Malek, explains his four-octave vocal range to prospective bandmates.

The moment arrives early in Bohemian Rhapsody, a film that doesn’t share Mercury’s surfeit of incisors; it has none. Which is not to say this conventional, playing-it-safe portrait of an unconventional band offers nothing to chew on. Or that it doesn’t acknowledge the tale’s darker facets. It does, ever so lightly, all the while fervently emphasising what’s sweet and upbeat about it.

Someday another feature about Queen might go deeper, which might or might not make for a better movie. Who says every rock ‘n’ roll biopic has to wallow in ‘Behind the Music’ confessionals?

The involvement of band members Brian May and Roger Taylor, as consultants and executive music producers, has more than a little to do with the gentle sheen that tamps down unruly narrative possibilities. But their involvement also amps the material’s musical authenticity. To the filmmakers’ credit, and even though they don’t entirely avoid the clunky factoid-itis that often plagues the genre, this is a biopic that favours sensory experience over exposition. It understands what pure, electrifying fun rock ‘n’ roll can be.

The pop-opera-epic of a 1975 single that gives the feature its name — the likes of which radio had never heard before and hasn’t since — is smartly peppered through the narrative: the first songwriting instincts, beginning with the melody; the exuberant, wacky and seriously inventive recording session; the momentous performance at 1985’s Live Aid benefit concert for Ethiopia.

That last bit arrives in the bravura sequence that caps the film (and which, remarkably, was the first to be shot). Bryan Singer, who was replaced by Dexter Fletcher well into the shooting schedule, is the movie’s credited director, and his affinity for large-scale spectacle is evident. The finished product is energetic, if not always smooth, its affection for Mercury and Queen indisputable even when the drama is undernourished.

The screenplay doesn’t so much flow as leap from one ‘aha’ moment to the next. It begins in 1970 London, where art student Farrokh Bulsara has already changed his given name to Freddie, to the pained disapproval of his traditional Parsi father (Ace Bhatti). The further switch to a stage-friendly surname is just a few ‘aha’ moments away.

Stepping into the void left by a local quartet’s departing singer, Freddie is the spark igniting a whole new level of ambition for guitarist May (Gwilym Lee), drummer Taylor (Ben Hardy) and bass player John Deacon (Joseph Mazzello) — all of whom, unlike Freddie, have a Plan B if the music thing doesn’t work out. As to the indefinable, transcendent something known as band chemistry, the movie doesn’t quite penetrate the mystery. The lads call themselves misfits playing for misfits, which hardly captures what makes them unique among rock acts. But when Bohemian Rhapsody zeroes in on their musical give-and-take, it’s clear that four creative spirits have joined forces.

When it clicks, the humour, both scripted and improvised, effortlessly underscores the characters’ bond. The actors are convincing in the musical sequences, which rely on Queen recordings (and sometimes use Malek’s voice in the mix). At crucial points in the offstage story, though, the performances of Lee, Hardy and Mazzello are reduced to reaction shots. Given the easy camaraderie and charged artistic mission that these performers conjure, there are too many wasted dramatic opportunities. As a result, the group’s tensions and rifts don’t register with the intended force, and Mercury’s growing imperiousness never truly feels like a threat to the band’s cohesion.

That’s no fault of Malek’s. Taking on a daunting task, he more than delivers. Though he’s only an inch shorter than Mercury was, he generally comes across as smaller and more delicate, and with his distinctive, enormous eyes, he’ll never be a ringer for the frontman. But, outfitted with the famous overbite and an exquisite array of costumes, and moving with a ferocious, muscular elegance, Malek is transformed.

Alluded to but left off screen is Mercury’s tabloid-fodder walk on the wild side, which Sacha Baron Cohen, earlier cast in the project, has said he’d hoped to explore. Malek’s devouring gaze suggests Mercury’s sexual appetites but also an aching innocence. Barely out of his 20s when Great Britain decriminalised homosexuality, the singer isn’t eager to attach a label to his way of life. He’s not interested in being a symbol or a spokesman.

And ultimately, the film is more concerned with Mercury’s profound love of performing, and the identity he forges onstage. It’s all there in the way the newbie rocker wrestles with the mic stand, awkwardly at first and then taming it like a beast. From there, his confidence soars along with the band’s fame, his look morphing from haute hippie to catsuit to stylised leather.

The rough edges of Freddie Mercury’s story might be smoothed over in this telling, the indulgences and debauchery sugarcoated. Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? It’s a little bit of both. But, caught in a landslide of dispiriting headlines, at a moment when connection, curiosity and openheartedness feel like endangered species, the lingering exhilaration of that concert scene is pretty darn magnifico.

Now showing in: Cineco, Saar, Seef II, Avenues, Mukta

 

Kristian’s verdict: 4/5







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