Elvis

ELVIS

King Creole

This past Tuesday was the 45th anniversary of Elvis Presley’s death—a morbid holiday that used to hold quite a bit of significance during a certain zeitgeist within America, and beyond it. Elvis was dubbed the king of rock and roll because of the remarkable impact he had upon music, and the way we consumed it. His slack-jawed style of singing was distinct—bluesy but operatic, mumbly but clear. The way he moved was iconic, and controversial. Given how perceivably buttoned-up and clean cut other popular musicians were at the time, every time Elvis swung his hips around he started a revolution. Fans of Elvis, much like fans of the Beatles, were not casual fans. They were the kinds of fans that started riots. Performers like Elvis achieved a certain level of star that drove crowds (especially of teen girls) wild. While their older siblings listened to the crooning of the soothing but safe Frank Sinatra, American teenagers had something else excitingly, scandalously different to listen to. While opening the door for many other singers and musicians, Elvis was very clearly inspired by the Black gospel and blues singers he grew up around. A large part of Elvis’ legacy is the fact that he normalized and popularized music made by people of color, and while he didn’t hide this fact, many people (white people) liked to forget this. But Elvis would be no one without the likes of B.B. King, Ivory Joe Hunter, and Fats Domino. To quote Elvis himself:

“The colored folks been singing it and playing it just like I’m doin’ now, man, for more years than I know. They played it like that in their shanties and in their juke joints and nobody paid it no mind ’til I goosed it up. I got it from them. Down in Tupelo, Mississippi, I used to hear old Arthur Crudup bang his box the way I do now and I said if I ever got to a place I could feel all old Arthur felt, I’d be a music man like nobody ever saw.”

Rock n roll was transgressive first and foremost because it was integrated. It’s funny, because nowadays the majority of rock n roll super nerds that I know are white, but back when it was first created by black people, white people didn’t have much interest. But people loved Elvis. From the time he became famous, to his rebellious phase, to his acting phase, to his Vegas era, and even now, 45 years after his death, people loooooove Elvis. I’ll be honest, as a millennial/gen z cusp kid, I don’t care THAT much about Elvis, at this point in time. But as a millennial/gen z cusp kid who was born in Memphis, Tennessee and grew up with a dad who shares a birthday with Elvis, and a mom who has worked for three different Elvis impersonators in her life, Elvis and his music have always been a fixture in my life. And just because I feel indifferent to Elvis at the moment does not mean this is the case for everyone—the second Baz Luhrmann announced that Austin Butler would be portraying Elvis in a biopic he was making, I could feel the rumble of a thousand Tumblr girls sprinting toward the theatre. I mostly knew Austin Butler as Vanessa Hudgens’ boyfriend, and from his cameos on Wizards of Waverly Place, iCarly, The Carrie Diaries, and other relics of tween television, so who would’ve thunk he’d one day embody the hunk of burning love with such precision and dedication. As much as I love going to the movies, I waited to watch Baz Luhrmann’s nearly three hour film ELVIS, and I’m glad I did, because I had to pause the movie several times for history lessons and corrections and clarifications from my Elvis historian parents—that I didn’t ask for but did appreciate. Even in death, Elvis is a phenomenon, and Baz Luhrmann’s completely over-the-top, highly-stylized, reliably showy aesthetic was the perfect vehicle to tell his story. I’ve never seen a Baz Luhrmann film that wasn’t utterly ridiculous, and I’ve never seen one that I didn’t like. Now ELVIS may not reach the level of iconic that Moulin Rouge! or Romeo + Juliet or The Great Gatsby achieves, but it had the same fabulously frenetic energy, the same insane editing, and the same admirably ambitious storytelling I’ve come to expect from this director. Baz didn’t just tell Elvis’ story, he told the story of Elvis’ family, his wife Priscilla, his entourage, and his swindler of a manager—Colonel Tom Parker, played by the most cartoonish version of Tom Hanks you could possibly imagine (even though there are plenty of actual fat actors they could’ve cast, no offense Tom) But as the epic of Elvis is told, a portrait of America is painted alongside it—one that covered the highlights of America in the 20th century, and one that finally paid time and attention to the many black musicians and performers that Elvis was inspired by. Baz Luhrmann is not a minimalist, so he included every bit of info that he could (except for Elvis and Priscilla’s age difference…). Whether or not you’re a fan of Elvis, this biopic is entirely captivating and Austin Butler was utterly mesmerizing. They might as well just give him the Oscar now, for his superb portrayal of Elvis, and for his ability to make me find Elvis attractive. Despite the sex appeal that’s often synonymous with Elvis, I never found him hot. But Austin Butler made every era of Elvis hot—from his humble and nervous beginnings, to his sweaty, sequin-clad Las Vegas era. One particularly hot and prominent era of Elvis’ life, one that Baz portrays in one of his many montages, is Elvis’ career as a movie star. Elvis starred in at least 40 films in his short career as an actor, but he made quite the lasting-impression in Hollywood, for better or for worse. Many of these films were cheaply-produced musical comedies that would go on to be far more laughable than intended. Filmmakers could utilize Elvis’ broad-reaching star power to sell whatever project Elvis’ scam artist manager signed him up for, despite Elvis’ desire to work on more serious acting projects. But before he got drafted into the army and before he got lost in the Hollywood shuffle, Elvis would star in one of his few serious movies: Michael Curtiz’ 1958 film King Creole. King Creole imagines Elvis as a tough but tender young Southern man—an easy role for Elvis—who, on his last day of high school, is denied the opportunity to graduate because he gets in a little ole fistfight. Freshly pissed and with few options, Elvis finds himself embroiled in some mobster drama that involves a chillingly serious Walter Mathau and an endearingly messy Carolyn Jones (aka the OG Morticia Adams). As with all Elvis films, there has to be a reason to make him sing—even in the case of King Creole, where a drunken mobster coincidentally assumes correctly that Elvis the busboy can sing. Elvis even opens the film by singing, out of nowhere, for no reason, but this somehow felt normal—even for a non musical. It would just be a waste to not have that man sing, and likely, a breach of his contract. King Creole was really compelling, and I can see why 4 out of the 5 websites I consulted listed this film as his best. He was much better at acting than I suspected, fitting in just fine against the dazzling but dirty New Orleans backdrop, and providing this dark tale with a little heart and soul. And while I was far more bewitched by Elvis in King Creole than I’d ever been, it was Carolyn Jones that took my breath away, especially when she uttered the line, “You’d be surprised how many tramps graduate school with honors.” King Creole is full of Elvis singing, brooding, and protecting women from being slapped around, all things you’d expect, but what I didn’t expect was for this film to be so dark, and for Elvis to carry it so well. Whether you love him or hate him, whether you’re a hound dog or more of a cat person, Elvis and his music have stood the test of time, and the Austin Butler hype isn’t dying down anytime soon. So why not do what The King would do, and kick back with a greasy sandwich and something good to watch. Thanks for reading, thank ya very much.