There’s a pink Cadillac parked outside the theatre and next to it, a man with slicked-back hair stands still as a statue. Streaming in behind him are dozens in kind, many of them small children, all the same: hair slicked back, tight white bejewelled outfits. A boy stands inside the Cadillac and raises his hands, shaped like horns, to the sky.
There’s no pop culture figure as enduring as Elvis Presley – there’s a reason he’s the most impersonated celebrity of all time – something confirmed by the fanaticism on display at Melbourne’s opening night of Elvis: A Musical Revolution.
Fuelled by nostalgia, escapism or a bit of both, the official jukebox bio-musical – which was directed by Alister Smith and made its world premiere in Sydney in August – attempts to bottle the star power of the man known as the King of Rock and Roll. It also gives insight into his troubled psyche leading up to the famous ‘68 Comeback Special.
The results are mixed. As Presley, Rob Mallett has the moves downpat and a decent vocal range and is clearly having fun striking silhouetted poses and stalking the stage with swagger. The music is, unsurprisingly, excellent, buoyed by a tight band – but playing the originals interstitially provides an immediate, potentially detrimental comparison point, and the temptation is likely strong to stuff as many hits in as possible, bloating the runtime and making this show at least half an hour too long.
It’s a visual spectacle: Dan Potra’s set is framed by bright lights and often split into two tiers, mimicking the look and feel of a television set or music video, though at times the effect is like a polished Rock Eisteddfod entry. It leans into its own cheesiness at times, often effectively – a fast-paced medley of movie pieces is great fun. There are echoes of other period pieces – Hairspray, Grease, even Back to the Future – through Isaac Lummis’ bright, colourful costuming, which also recreates some of Presley’s most iconic looks, such as the bell-bottomed white jumpsuit.
Crucially, the book by American writers Sean Cercone and David Abbinanti is largely uninspired and slightly messy, hinging on a toothless “follow your dreams” trajectory through an ambitious vertical narrative that jumps back and forward in time. Presley’s child self – a role shared by four young actors, but played on opening night by confident and charming 12-year-old Daniel Lim – appears as a Jiminy Cricket-style conscience at a moment of crisis, and is often watching from above as his adult self performs.
It’s naff and saccharine but does allow for some touching moments: Presley’s relationship with his mother Gladys, played by Noni McCallum, is beautifully rendered, particularly in a scene where the child hears his mother sing the American Civil War song Aura Lea and the audience sees it evolve into one of his best-known hits, Love Me Tender. McCallum has lovely chemistry with Mallett and Lim onstage.
A full company a cappella rendition of Peace in the Valley, marking Gladys’ death and closing the first act, has some of the best vocal arrangements in the show, though there’s some flatness to the pitch. Other songs are used to lesser effect, such as Presley singing Can’t Help Falling in Love to his newborn baby, which is one of the show’s cringiest moments.
Some of Presley’s less savoury actions are surprisingly touched on, including his abusive treatment of his romantic partners and musical colleagues – the latter in a stop-start performance of Hard-Headed Woman that shows the arrogance that had overtaken the once earnest Presley.
Considering that the writers have elected to include this side of Presley’s character, it’s especially interesting what is only skirted past. The spectre of cultural appropriation hangs thick in the air; having grown up in the poor Black neighbourhood of Tupelo, he was inspired by the culture around him, and while it’s briefly mentioned (and Joti Gore and Jo-Anne Jackson steal the show as influences Roy Brown and Sister Rosetta Tharpe), a tension remains.
As with much Presley media, the fact that his wife Priscilla Beaulieu was just 14 to his 24 when they met is not mentioned, nor does Annie Chiswell play the character in a way that reflects the age gap. Such uncomfortable truths are often omitted – and it begs the question of whether it’s really an honest portrayal of a life when its darkest contours are scribbled out.
The jukebox musical is, ultimately, a vessel for beloved songs – perhaps to expect much more is a misalignment of goals. As a celebration of Presley’s music, Elvis: A Musical Revolution is joyful and fun, but I’m unconvinced it offers much more than going to a very good tribute show. As something deeper, it aims high and misses.
