Director: Bryan Singer
Starring: Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Joe Mazzello, Allen Leech, Aiden Gillan, Tom Hollander, Mike Myers, Aaron McCusker
Running Time: 134 min.
Rating: PG-13
★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
Some music artists simply transcend the band with which they were a part, to the point that you even have a tough time even recalling the other members' names, regardless of their enormous contributions. There may be no better example of this in all of rock than Freddie Mercury and Queen. We could talk all day about how Bryan Singer's Bohemian Rhapsody is really a story about the band and that Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon spent years behind the scenes making sure that would shine through on screen. But make no mistake about it. The film was always only going to be about one man: Freddie Mercury. Queen IS Freddie Mercury. Freddie Mercury IS Queen.
Despite taking great pains to specifically detail and show what each member brought to the table, even going so far as to imply he couldn't musically survive without them, Mercury's shadow will always engulf them. As it should. There's something to be said for giving the fans what they want. Freddie always did, and now he's at the center of a film that does just the same, helping to explain how audiences worldwide have embraced what's been categorized by critics as a by-the-numbers music biopic. And to an extent, that's true.
Controlling parents, egomaniacal genius, failed marriage, self-loathing, band break-up, sex, drugs, record label disputes. It checks all the boxes. Even Mercury's audacity and eccentricity both on and off stage are qualities we've come to recognize in our rock stars. But before Freddie they weren't, and what the film really excels at (and hasn't gotten enough credit for) is in reflecting that breakthrough. And the turmoil brewing inside of a man who just wanted to perform, while still struggling to figure out exactly who he is. The cultural timing also feels right because Queen might just be one of the few classic rock bands that could still be considered underappreciated. It's not a coincidence that among a dream lineup of legendary artists that played 1985's epic Live Aid benefit concert, it's their performance rather than The Who's, The Stones', Bowie's or U2's that's most remembered today. More accurately, it's Mercury's.
The film wisely opens by teasing that concert and closes by taking us there, recreating a watershed cultural moment with chill-inducing emotional and historical accuracy. While many thrills come in seeing Queen get their due, Rami Malek's performance deserves more credit than the actual picture, which is fittingly only following his lead. At first, you're not sure what to make of it, until he submerges himself deeper and deeper, to the point that it becomes frightening just how much of a disappearing act it is. There's no trace of the performer left, leaving us to contemplate what it could have been like to experience Freddie Mercury as a person and performer, along with all the complications and contradictions that entail, not to mention the theatricality. He's such a fascinating figure that the film can afford to just simply do its job and call it a day.
It's 1970 when college student and airport baggage handler Farrokh "Freddie" Bulsara (Malek) goes to a London pub to see the band, Smile. Upon learning their lead singer just quit, Freddie, who's been writing his own songs, offers himself up as a replacement to guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy). At the show, he also meets a young woman named Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton), whom he begins to date and eventually marries. After taking Freddie on as their lead singer and adding John Deacon (Joe Mazzello) as bass guitarist, the band is rechristened "Queen," with Bulsara legally adopting the name "Freddie Mercury."
Touring across Britain and selling out smaller venues everywhere, the band soon attracts the attention of famed music manager John Reid (Aiden Gillan). With a record deal and a hit album, they tour the U.S. and only grow bigger from there. But Freddie keeps wanting more, as he internally comes to grips with his own sexuality and takes bad advice from manager and self-serving hanger-on Paul Prenter (Allen Leech). With Queen in shambles due to his selfishness, Freddie heads down a path of personal and professional ruin by the late 70's. But before he can vanquish his own demons, he'll need to make amends with his own past, as well as the only family he's ever known.
Feeling most like a standard musical biopic in its detailing of Queen's formative years as an act, criticism has swirled aroubd the fact that dates and chronology were altered to fit the needs of the narrative, condensing key events in Mercury and the band's timeline. It's kind of surprising it's become an issue when far less accomplished biopics are routinely guilty of the same offense, if you can call it that. This isn't a documentary and unless the changes were due to some unintentional oversight (unlikely given Queen's direct involvement), they should only be judged in context of whether it detracts from the story. In this case, it doesn't at all. That these alterations have caused an uproar is more of a testament to how the media enjoys tearing down biopics and showing off their knowledge that that's not "exactly" how it happened.
It's easy to see how a strict, inflexible adherence to every facet of Freddie Mercury's life could easily do more harm than good, stifling the momentum of the narrative and removing any shred of unpredictability. Plus, wouldn't those nitpicking about historical accuracy then only shift their complaints to how safely the movie played it by sticking straight to the facts, in the exact order they happened? And besides, doing that would deprive us of the the film's most memorable scene.
The scene in question comes when Queen and their lawyer Jim "Miami" Beach (Tom Hollander) are unsuccessfully pitching the six-minute "Bohemian Rhapsody" as the first single for their forthcoming "A Night at the Opera" album to doubting EMI executive Ray Foster (an unrecognizably great Mike Myers). We'll never know whether the events in that room played out exactly as they're depicted, but it's the kind of scene you can easily imagine did given what we know about the 70's music scene and that song, then years away from being appreciated as the group's magnum opus.
So to hear how unmarketable and inaccessible the song is it is out of the mouth of the actor partially responsible for introducing it to a new generation in the 90's, not only makes for an unforgettable meta moment. More surreal than seeing the blistering reviews scroll down the screen are the preceding scenes of them recording the song, which comes as a flicker in Mercury's mind that he makes his bandmates harness. In fact, most of the film consists of them trying to keep up with his energy and creativity.
Malek's performance couldn't exactly be considered a slow burn since everything in this picture moves at such a rapid pace, but his full immersion into the role does kind of sneak up on you. Concealing his Indian heritage and sparring with his demanding father, Freddie escapes from himself through music. And with it, realizes who he truly wants to be, evolving from an introspective lanky kid uncomfortable in his own skin to a wild showman discovering his true outlet onstage. It's here where he feels most at home, and it's when that rock star persona overtakes his life that Malek's embodiment of Mercury kicks into high gear.
Taking over a role originally intended for Sacha Baron Cohen (who exited early due to creative differences), much as been made of the fake teeth, the mannerisms, gestures and voice Malek invokes to physically transform himself. And he does, baring more than just a mere passing resemblance to the late singer. But it's when Freddie flies off the rails with drugs and debauchery in the last third of the film that you realize how much further the actor's gone than just physically channeling him.
The celebrity of "Freddie Mercury" soon infests his inner circle, allowing him to let indulgence and excess get in the way of what matters most. His marriage may have been doomed from the start, but the difference here is that the relationship with Mary doesn't end so much as radically change, creating a fairly unusual situation, as the two remain friends while Freddie wrestles and eventually comes to terms with his sexuality. And, of course, the eventual AIDS diagnosis that the screenplay and Malek handle just right, avoiding disease of the week movie tropes.
It's true that the other members of Queen are supporting players who probably don't register as strongly as they should. Of them, Gwilym Lee accomplishes the most as Brian May, but even that's stretching it, as this was never going to be about any one of them individually. Nor should it be. What it does convey well is what they collectively contributed and Freddie's ultimate legacy, perfectly encapsulated by Malek in the film's thrilling final 40 minutes, taking you as close as possible to their 1985 Live Aid performance without literally being there. It's frighteningly accurate.
A Queen movie was always going to be a tightrope walk. That we've somehow gotten a PG-13 version that not only feels uncompromised, but does justice to Mercury and the band's significance feels like a miracle given all the problems that befell this production. We're still not even sure who to credit for directing it. Far from perfect, events and timelines are altered, liberties taken and dates changed. On the surface, there doesn't even seem to be much too it. And yet, Bohemian Rhapsody is still so ridiculously entertaining because it deeply understands what Queen and Freddie Mercury left us and the only thing that really matters: the music.
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