Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
Cast: Rami Malek, Gwilym Lee, Ben Hardy, Joseph Mazzello, Lucy Boynton, Mike Myers, Aiden Gillen, Tom Hollander, Allen Leech, Aaron McCusker, Max Bennett, Jess Rodomska, Ace Bhatti, Dickie Beau, Dermot Murphy, Meneka Das, Neil Fox-Roberts.
Queen can be viewed in two different ways, there will be those who champion the band, who see the band and revel in the music created, the uniqueness, the harmony of expression, the explosion of personality and the dedication to craft songs and albums in which nobody has been able to come close to capturing the vibe of since; then there will be those who see them as one of the architects of overhype, of being part of all that was perhaps wrong with rock, of destructive traits, of having a leading man who allowed his demons and desires to get in the way of making music.
Two view-points, two channels of frustration, of hope, of love, of undesired hate, never forgiven for playing Sun City at the height of the United Nation’s cultural boycott against the evil of South Africa’s apartheid regime, never more loved than when they took the stage at Wembley as part of Live Aid. It is this dichotomy of thought that arguably has kept the band where they are, forever in the minds of music fans, some forever enamoured with the flamboyance and the creative genius, other’s hating the soul, rather going deaf than ever listening to one song of the cross-genre society they espoused.
It would be easy to insist or dismiss the idea out of hand of the Queen biopic, Bohemian Rhapsody, the state of mind arguing with an almost violent persuasion in either camp, however, and despite certain moments of time being placed out of order, others being washed completely out of history, the film is a feast for the eyes and the ears don’t complain at all. It is film in which Rami Malek’s transformation in to the strutting, vocally beautiful Freddie Mercury is incredible and one that is utterly dedicated, one in which the music speaks for itself, and in the end weaves, arguably spins, to a point where the more upsetting sides of the band’s decisions are, if not forgiven, at least absolved.
The film extenuates one thought above all else, that this was a band who did not fit into the times they were born in, a group of people on the fringes, undoubtedly clever, willing to experiment, a progressive attitude but one that was shrouded in a cloak of conservatism of the day, a group, and their fans whom today would probably be seen as nothing more than a pastiche of every other artist who wanted to be seen as a little bit risque, suggestively naughty. By not fitting in, by refusing to be straight-jacketed to expectations, they proved, as the film shows, that it is more than alright to be yourself, it just depends on the casualty list of those who suffer in your pursuit of uniqueness.
Where the film becomes uncomfortable is in the storm of Freddie’s unhappiness, his acceptance of who he was sexually tearing him apart, and the force of control imposed upon him by Paul Prenter, played with foreboding, dark undertones by Downtown Abbey’s Allen Leech; it is not the sexuality that is in question, and in this day and age who actually gives a damn, but the mechanism of abuse, of manipulation, it is a factor of the relationship that had its effect on Queen and one that is told with calm reassurance by the makers of Bohemian Rhapsody.
An Oscar in the waiting for Rami Malek, it would not be a far-fetched thought after all, and one that makes the film a positive enjoyment, after all, there will never be a band like Queen again.
Ian D. Hall