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Joe Roberts

JoeRoberts

Joe is the film and TV critic for The Lincolnite. He is a Master’s student at the University of Lincoln, having abandoned the sunny beaches of the Cayman Islands for the slightly colder climes of Lincolnshire to see whether he could make it as a writer. Joe graduated from St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland in 2016, where he studied the Liberal Arts and drank far too much bad American beer.


Rocketman feels destined for the West End or Broadway, its big musical numbers feel more suited to the stage, although they certainly make for enjoyable viewing. Thankfully, it’s not just a regurgitation of all of Elton’s work — each song is a unique cover, often sung by multiple characters, which ends up showing off the power of his music exceptionally well.

Occasionally, the film is a bit over the top, even by Elton’s standards, and its anti-hedonist message is heavy-handed. “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story” is clearly a mantra embraced by the film-makers as the film takes a generous view of reality, manipulating timelines and characters in search of a good narrative. But with the disclaimer of ‘based on a true fantasy’, it’s mostly a good-hearted romp that has fun experimenting and bringing fresh ideas to an otherwise overplayed genre.

Taron Egerton in Rocketman (2019). Photo: Marv Films

We open with Elton storming into a rehab group session, bedecked in a ridiculous sparkly orange costume, wings and all, and begin to confess his various addictions. From here we begin the deep dive back into Elton’s early life, although Elton is hardly the most reliable narrator, either from trying to hide his sordid past or because he’s too drug-addled to remember it properly. Regardless, we travel through young Reginald Dwight’s life in short tableaus, before reaching adulthood and ensuing fame. But not before Reg has decided to change his name to Elton John, here suitably fabricated for the big screen as a pseudo-divine moment of inspiration from a Beatles poster, rather than a homage to his early bandmates. From here, the film follows standard music biopic fare, the heroic rise to stardom montage, the first love and new managers (which happen to be the same person in this case), and the ensuing crises, before the final redemption. 

What the film does very well is take the standard biopic and have fun within the formula. The big numbers are often treated like musical theatre, used to explore and narrate Elton’s life, which leads to a young Reginald, and occasionally his family members, singing some of his later hits, including a great scene where a teenage Reg belts out Saturday Night’s Alright before a swish and a flick and Taron Egerton appears. This is where the creative licence with the truth feels at its most powerful, and the premise of the drug-fuelled therapy session sanctions the hallucinatory and surreal feel to large sequences of the movie.

Taron Egerton in Rocketman (2019). Photo: Marv Films

Nor does it shy away from the big dramatic crises, although at times they are forced and unrealistic, even within the surreal parameters of the film. Elton’s tumultuous relationship with his manager John Reid (Richard Madden) is clearly told from one side of the break-up and is pernicious to the point of implausibility. So too his relationship with his parents, and the final hallucinatory scene in the group therapy session is probably one indulgence too far, clearly allowing Elton to have the last word.

It’s an interesting aspect of the film that it feels both devastatingly honest and largely untrue, which I think lends itself more to the stage than a film which, despite its disclaimers, many people will take as gospel. But as long as you’re not looking for an actual biography, this is a joyous and imaginative celebration of Elton John’s genius. 

Rocketman (2019) rating: 7/10

Joe is the film and TV critic for The Lincolnite. He is a Master’s student at the University of Lincoln, having abandoned the sunny beaches of the Cayman Islands for the slightly colder climes of Lincolnshire to see whether he could make it as a writer. Joe graduated from St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland in 2016, where he studied the Liberal Arts and drank far too much bad American beer.

I suppose you have to admire their consistency. Disney’s latest live-action remake, Aladdin, is another bloated, poorly executed and frankly unnecessary re-creation of a beloved cartoon. The writing is clumsy and so obviously written by two middle-aged white men trying to be woke. The visuals ought to be stunning, but at times are so noticeably filmed on a green screen it’s nearly impossible to enjoy. A Whole New World, easily the high point of the original film, is here difficult to watch because the CGI is so poorly executed it feels like a filmmaking 101 tribute and not a multi-million dollar remake. 

Will Smith, bless his heart, does his ardent best as Genie, but he’s just not a great singer, which is readily apparent as he jumps into Arabian Nights to open the film. Between that and the distracting, and frankly just plain awful CGI rendering, he comes across as a Blue Man Group reject looking for work. Hardly a fitting replacement for the inimitable Robin Williams.

Will Smith and Mena Massoud in Aladdin (2019). Photo: Disney

With a diverse cast, Disney has corrected its previous mistake of casting all white voice actors, but God forbid any of them actually have a Middle-Eastern accent. The only major character with a semblance of one is Navid Negahban’s Sultan, who sounds more like he’s trying to hide his natural Iranian accent than deliberately speaking with one, while his daughter, Jasmine, has a very distinct American accent. Naomi Scott is a British actress of Indian descent so there is no comprehensible reason for making her affect a fake American accent in a film supposedly set in Arabia. 

As for Jafar, it’s hard to remember a movie villain so deeply uninteresting. He’s not particularly menacing, nor is he funny or clever. He just sort of exists as The Big Bad and there is no point at which he steals a scene despite literally stealing the kingdom. The most interesting part of Jafar is his parrot, Iago (voiced by Alan Tudyk), although even he barely raises a wry chuckle. 

Naomi Scott and Mena Massoud in Aladdin (2019). Photo: Disney

In fairness to the film, both Mena Massoud and Naomi Scott put in decent turns and they make a lovely couple with genuine chemistry. But there is no point where it feels even remotely possible that Aladdin isn’t going to get the girl, so it’s hard to really feel any passion or connection to their story.

Neither particularly funny nor dramatic, Aladdin never escapes the success of its predecessor. It doesn’t even bother to try and be different from the original, which makes its failures all the more prominent. At 2 hours and 8 minutes, nearly 40 minutes longer than the cartoon, there is nothing which is improved by the extended length, and instead lumbers through with the pace and grace of a CGI elephant.

Marwan Kenzari in Aladdin (2019). Photo: Disney

Disney’s decision to use washed-up directors past their prime is again on show, and Guy Ritchie’s selection is particularly puzzling. His best films are edgy, violent and not rated PG, so much like the choice of Tim Burton for Dumbo [read the review], Disney appears to have hired Guy Ritchie and told him not to make it a Guy Ritchie film. The result is a movie with shoddy pacing, mediocre singing and acting, and frankly awful writing.

At least Tim Burton’s Dumbo tried to do something unique. This however, is a spectacular waste of money and time, and an unforgiveable money grab that exposes all that is wrong with Disney’s decision to make a quick buck rather than a quality original film. If Dumbo was a failure of rather epic proportions, Aladdin is a monument to mediocrity — a film which fails to evoke any real emotion, be it laughter, empathy or tension, despite being almost a scene for scene facsimile of the magical cartoon original. 

Aladdin (2019) rating: 4/10

Joe is the film and TV critic for The Lincolnite. He is a Master’s student at the University of Lincoln, having abandoned the sunny beaches of the Cayman Islands for the slightly colder climes of Lincolnshire to see whether he could make it as a writer. Joe graduated from St. John’s College in Annapolis, Maryland in 2016, where he studied the Liberal Arts and drank far too much bad American beer.

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