‘Rocketman’ Is Utterly & Absolutely Blooming Marvellous

OK so can we all agree I do a lot of pontificating on here? That’s right, I’m talking to you, Noëmie. And like maybe Mum? Hi Mum. I do so much pontificating in fact that I sometimes forget to notice how a film, like, makes me feel. No chance of that with Rocketman because it, ahem, blasted in my face. I’m so, so sorry, but you know I had to. For two hours and one minute’s worth of screen time — and when I wasn’t bawling my eyes out — I had the world’s dumbest grin plastered on my face. My head bobbed among the other bobbing heads in the Camden Town Odeon. (Poetry.)

I don’t even know where to start. It’s absolutely clear that the director, the writer and, dare I say the entire team, adore Elton John. They just love the guy, and this fantasy biopic/musical hybrid exudes that energy, purest joy tainted only by the more tragic aspects of Elton’s life (a shameful excuse for parents, crippling self-doubt, the struggle with his homosexuality, a slew of addictions, suicidality). For a long time, the global phenomenon Elton John felt alone in the world. How could he thrive when he hadn’t had the love to do so? It’s like the film is saying, “we love you, Elton, we all love you so frickin’ much.” I say this, I knew very little about the singer beyond the signature look, that one concert for Lady Di, and the legendary parties he threw for Bill Nighy in Love Actually, but I, my friends, am a late convert.

Taron Egerton (gross comments aside) is. Stunning. Perfect. Resplendent. Any other cunty word suggestions, DM me. He lives and breathes Elton John, the awkwardness, the rage, the star power… and. The. Singing. The singing! If you’re not dancing in your seat and on the street on your way out, you and I are two peas in a haystack (mismatched, out of place, you get it, shhh). Jamie Bell (my love, my darling) as Elton’s faithful friend and lyricist Bernie, and Bryce Dallas Howard as his foul mother, are brilliant too. Rocketman is a parade of camp, absurd, wonderful costumes courtesy of Julian Day, of glitter and colour, of music as magic and alchemy, of heart and intelligence in spades and buckets. My only regret is that it didn’t last longer.

10/10