“In France, I’m an auteur; in Germany, a filmmaker; in Britain; a genre film director; and, in the USA, a bum.” — John Carpenter

“An Elvis movie is always worth watching because of Elvis.” – Kurt Russell

John Carpenter, director:

In dealing with Elvis, I’m bringing a lot of my own feelings to it and how I feel about him, and how I interpret the script, how I interpret his life. And in that sense, from my point, it’s a personal film. I really love Elvis a lot. I’ve always been a fan of his. I love his music. I have a strong feeling for him, it means something to me, I care a lot about the character, I care about his story. And in some senses I feel lucky to be able to direct a film about Elvis, this kind of a film which I don’t feel is exploiting him but I feel is trying to tell his story, trying to tell a story about a man who is bigger than life which is very interesting because he really was a human being, but somewhere in his life I think he transcended that and became mythical.

I am thankful this movie exists. Carpenter’s 1979 film was the first attempt to “deal with” Elvis after his death in 1977. So many horrible details came out following Elvis’ death (as well as right before his death, with the tell-all book by the Betraying Bodyguards) and Carpenter already felt that an Act of Redress was necessary. (Same with Dave Marsh, whose spectacular 1981 book Elvis! served a similar function.)

John Carpenter’s Elvis deals compassionately with Elvis’ rise to the top: it is an act of almost aggressive positivity. This might drive some people crazy but the surrounding context is important.

Kurt Russell, as a child actor, kicked the actual Elvis’ shins in It Happened at the World’s Fair

Normally I have a hard time watching actors being Elvis (and so Austin Butler has my deepest gratitude), and I can’t stand Elvis impersonators. But Russell captures a flame of the original. Shelley Winters plays Elvis’ beloved Mama, Gladys, a perfect choice.

One of the things I like about the film – making it distinct from much of the commentary on Elvis – is that it doesn’t pathologize Elvis’ relationship with his mother. Yes, they were close. Yes, he was a total and unashamed Mama’s Boy. But … Can’t he have just loved her more than anyone else in the world? Can’t he have just seen her as a focal point of sanity and unconditional love in the middle of a whirlwind? Can’t they have just been so close because poverty and hardship can do that to families, creating a We’re in this together kind of thing?

Things are left out of the film. Mainly: drugs. Elvis was introduced to amphetamines in the Army, in 1958!, so he could stay up all night on his patrols. The addiction worked by stealth (the pills were seen as harmless, and were prescribed by a doctor), and everyone was on speed then. This wasn’t about “getting high” for fun, another important distinction since he never drank, didn’t “party” and hated being around drunkenness. Fun for Elvis involved football, roller coasters, movies and hamburgers. Carpenter made a choice to leave the drugs out. So watching the film can be a weird experience. The film ends not with Elvis’ death, but with Elvis taking the stage, resplendent in a white jumpsuit, for his nerve-wracking live comeback at the International Hotel in 1969. The film ends in triumph.

But again, in the face of all of the revelations about Elvis, and the tell-all books by people who barely knew him, Carpenter – whose comment above is eloquent -shows the Presley mythology (the dead twin, the Mama’s Boy thing, Elvis’ vulnerability – crying from Nashville to Tennessee after the disastrous Grand Ole Opry audition, etc.) in a positive and yet honest way. The film is mainly focused on the unnatural isolation of fame.

Stylistically, Carpenter makes some bold choices. Elvis is often seen through doorways, or at the end of hallways. There, but not really there. He’s surrounded by space, while also being hemmed in. There’s a sense of moody dread in some of the framings – (more typical of, hmmmm, a horror movie, perhaps?) – even though the script pushes towards golden-hued nostalgia and frank myth-making. To the well-known myth, Carpenter adds strangeness. Elvis casts shadows on the wall, his head looming in black silhouette behind him. This is a visual motif throughout, and Carpenter pushes it into a truly poetic realm.

The shadow he casts is much larger than his actual self. The shadow he casts is practically separated from the actual man casting the shadow. Fame is what he wanted, but fame is DARK.

There’s a great scene where Elvis stands in his backyard, surrounded by his entourage. He takes out a cigarette and – as one – they all whip out their lighters. Elvis does not demand that kind of devotion, and Russell plays the moment as one of deep and almost moral and ethical unease, accepting a light from one of them, but showing that in the heart of the character of Elvis, he knows that this is not normal, this is not right, this is not good for him.

It’s a subtle moment and it has the ring of truth.

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Thank you, John Carpenter! I know he’s known for other things now, but this is the one I treasure. And remember whose site you are on.

 
 
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8 Responses to “In France, I’m an auteur; in Germany, a filmmaker; in Britain; a genre film director; and, in the USA, a bum.” — John Carpenter

  1. sheila says:

    E’s shoulder hitch on display in this clip at the beginning when he’s speaking. One of his defining gestures. If you’re playing Elvis, and you don’t do that, you’re not doing Elvis.

    It’s like he’s compulsively trying to get back into his own body, and he is so often OUT of his body that he has to twitch his shoulders to get back into alignment. There’s something spiritual about the gesture. It’s not just that his back hurts or something. He does it too often. Im very curious about it, obviously.

  2. sheila says:

    Or excess energy … he has to constantly do something to DEAL with the energy.

  3. sheila says:

    Anyway, Kurt Russell nailed it.

  4. Brendan O'Malley says:

    Um, dude can dance. It’s kind of like playing Marilyn Monroe though. It’s like being cast to play Mount Everest.

    I love Kurt Russell and all I found myself doing was being appreciative of how far he went and how accurate it was and ultimately how pale in comparison to the real thing. YOU CANNOT ACT LIKE ELVIS PRESLEY. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE!!!

    For example, he’s got the body down perfectly but he’s got this scowl thing going on while he sings, like there is some anger or rebellion at work inside of him and that is totally not present when you watch Elvis. It’s pure joy. Don’t get me wrong, Russell is amazing in this clip and I love it but it is a thankless task.

    Anyhoo, cool clip!

    I want Kurt Russell to have his ‘Crazy Heart’ moment.

  5. sheila says:

    Bren – me too, although I personally thought that his Herb Brooks in Miracle was the best performance that year. Not even nominated. He is the absolute best.

    I agree: you can imitate, you can do your best, but the original is just … too original. Like Cate Blanchett doing Hepburn in The Aviator. And she only had to do scenes – imagine if she had had to RE-ENACT a scene from Bringing Up Baby or something!!

    Its really in the one-on-one scene work in Elvis where Russell really captures something of what seems to be the essence of Presley. Lying in a hospital bed after fainting and calling his mother, in front of all of his friends – totally unembarrassed about calling his mother every day – when he puts his mother in a cab to go back to Memphis (where she will die a couple days later) and he stands there by himself, kind of mouthing something to himself, clearly devastated – I think he’s saying, “It’ll be all right” but I can’t be sure. He is wrecked. And his devastation and rage in the scene following this one after the Grand Ole Opry fails to be impressed by his performance.

    He treats Elvis with respect but also compassion for his fallibilities – and boy, when he speaks, does he have Elvis DOWN.

    The Elvis impersonator guy who sang the songs does a very good job of at least getting the feel of these songs – but for me, why Russell is so good is in the scenework. He’s vulnerable, arrogant, shy and funny.

    Very funny and disturbing scene where he’s at home at Graceland surrounded by his buddies and he takes out a cigarette and they all whip out a lighter at the same moment. Russell doesn’t say anything, just quietly takes in the moment, of what has happened in his life, and accepts one of the lights. But you can feel this deep gong going off in him, like: “There is something not right with this picture.”

    Hes just the best.

    I remember one rainy Friday afternoon at South Road School we all went into the Multi Purpose Room and saw Computer who Wore Tennis Shoes on a big screen!

  6. mutecypher says:

    It’s John Carpenter’s birthday?

    You gotta be kidding.

  7. Bill Wolfe says:

    The cigarette lighter scene reminds me of the most poignant moment from the Beatles Anthology docuseries back in the 1990s. Ringo is describing the first time he went home to Liverpool after Beatlemania hit in 1963. He and his closest relatives are having tea in his family’s home when he spills a little of his tea. When everyone leaps to clean it up for him, Ringo thinks, “Oh no – not you, too.” But at least Ringo had the other three Beatles to keep him honest. Elvis was alone.

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