It's a jukebox musical with some serious tonal issues. But when it's Queen, do we really care?
Taking center stage here is Rami Malek, delivering a chameleonic performance as Freddie Mercury. The movie does not live up to his command of the screen: nuanced and bombastic in one fabulous swoop, he repeatedly brings down the house. Though most of the music is straight from the real-life artist, the athleticism and enthusiasm is pure Malek. He oozes sex and power with every movement, and it's easy to forget who we're watching.
Unfortunately the rest of the film suffers from wildly unfocused storytelling and varied aesthetic. What starts as a Freddie Mercury story becomes something more like a Queen story; what could be a biopic becomes a slipshod jukebox musical with lip-syncing and "hysterical queens." The movie flies along from studio scenes to concerts, recording sessions to raucous parties that thematically reflect the lives of the beloved band mates, if they don't convey a compelling story.
And while Malek's performance carries the film, Mercury's character is severely underwritten along with the story. His sexual exploits, gender dynamic, creativity and flamboyance are all kept intensely PG-13. It's so devoid of anything truly Bohemian that I can't help but feel it does an injustice not only to Queen but to us as fans. Even when the film finally begins to explore his relationship with Tom Branson (oops, I'm sorry, I mean Paul Prenter, played by Irish Downton Abbey star Allen Leech) and others, it's all so calm and calculated, I felt like this film was aimed at the same audience as Love, Simon. Is that a problem in itself? Maybe not, but it's also not truthful to the story or the men.
Then again, if the film is meant to simply be an entertaining musical mess, it succeeds magnificently. Its vibrant texture and hues delight and tickle the senses as much as the music pulsing through the air. The film's final sequence, beginning with Mercury reuniting with his band, is the highlight of the film by far. As they embrace Freddie and his disclosed diagnosis of AIDS, tears sprang from my eyes quite unbidden. We hop on over to Freddie with his family, making peace with their religion and his identity. Then, suddenly and magnificently, we swoop into Wembley Stadium for the 1985 Live Aid concert. Queen takes the stage and, of course, the rest is history. It's a fantastic sequence with some amazing craft that will raise your spirits immensely after the lukewarm, rote work that came before.
Then again, it's hard to swallow a musical biopic that barely scratches the surface of its protagonist, relies on lip-syncing and prosthetics, and is too grounded in realism for its own good.
IMDb: Bohemian Rhapsody
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