Written by: Keaton Marcus

Baz Luhrmann is one of my favorite directors working today. Understandably controversial, his style puts cinematic in the word cinematic—stuffing his movies with flourishes of color and wall-to-wall needle drops, complimented by his trademark super sonic pacing and wildly entertaining cast of characters. Some may not find this sort of moviemaking their speed, with an (in my opinion) masterful blend of chaos and romanticism—dramatized to the highest degree but with a sense of aggressiveness that keeps audiences (me) invested. Especially with his, as expected (and welcomed), revisionist adaptation of The Great Gatsby, Baz blends the old-fashioned with the modern to showcase an ever-changing world both in the present and past. His first film in almost a decade, Elvis, will not disappoint his die-hard fans.

Dripping with this intoxicating tone and propelled by a soundtrack consisting of a deft combination of both hip-hop music from today’s recording artists and Austin Butler’s versions of classic EP tracks, it’s nothing but anarchy here. Eminem, Doja Cat, and Denzel Curry all have their voices heard; the camera spins and infiltrates every setting—brought to life by stunning sound design and beautiful editing (what’s incoherent to some is just a blast to me). I felt a sense of electricity wash over me watching Butler take over the center stage on-screen, taking Presley’s wiggle to a successfully serious degree and perfecting his distinct voice. His performance is gonzo in all the greatest senses—the work of not only a promising new talent but a future superstar (he’s already been cast in the Dune sequel). It’s epic to witness. Do not snub this man, Academy.

Everyone in the cast is doing a bang-up job. Sure, Tom Banks’ accent is an exaggerated interpretation of the real Col. Parker (I watched interviews featuring him), but this movie doesn’t just celebrate exaggeration, it is an exaggeration. As with all of Baz’s masterpieces, I came for all the classic melodrama. The angst and rebellion in Elvis’ character turned up to the maximum—and all the beautifully schmaltzy romanticism that comes along with it. Cameron does it with Titanic, Mann does it with Heat, and Baz does it whenever he gets the fucking chance. It’s gorgeously over-the-top but not without a sense of intimacy and serenity (followed by destruction) of Elvis and Priscilla’s tumultuous relationship.

This is a film filled to the brim with dilemmas. The obvious one is the conflict between Elvis and Parker. Baz illustrates an epic tragedy here—a supposed friendship at the beginning getting torn apart by difficulties in business and genuine desire. By the strikingly melancholic conclusion, audiences realize that Parker never truly cared about the heart of the art form—prioritizing major cash over letting Elvis be Elvis. And Elvis, well, being Elvis, didn’t give a shit about what old crotchety men afraid of change thought of him. What I was completely oblivious to before watching was how bold even the movements of Elvis were on television. The US was used to the still and sturdy, and this man was a disruption of a system begging to be torn down. His controversial wiggle earned him the name “Elvis the Pelvis”—conventionally stoic masculinity was in a crisis watching this make-up-clad, greased-up, flamboyant musician get a rise out of the nation. It’s stunning how Baz illustrates the rebel inside of him—and the takedown of barriers that he was.

Additionally, Baz’s incorporation of Black culture—and how Elvis popularized it to the world, was perfectly sentimental (I felt it needed even more screen time). Elvis grew up and hung out around Black musicians more than anyone, learning and growing as a listener, and eventually, as an artist himself. They bettered him so he could educate the world about new and inspiring aspects of music. Because Hound Dog was originally sung by a Black woman, I loved that Baz let Doja Cat sing a revisionist version of the original, which drops in the first act of the film. This movie is a gorgeous blend of culture old and new, faithful to the musician yet adding calculated hints of revisionism in style and substance.

Elvis is a work of a seasoned master. 2 hours and 40 minutes went by like half an hour. Musical biopics as a genre have fallen off the deep end lately, and Baz brings his distinctive, auteur voice to the mix. See it in theaters.