I like his performance even more now that I’ve had time to sit with it and compare it with a few clips of Elvis performing at concerts and on TV. Butler takes one particular artistic liberty that is just so compelling and effective.
In every archival clip I’ve seen (both on TV and at live concerts), young Elvis is just funny, and sweet, and shy until he starts singing, and then he gets jittery, wacky, taken by the spirit of the music, smiling and flirting with his fans but otherwise totally enthralled by the music itself.
Segregationists and puritans may have read racially ambiguous malevolence into his behaviour, but it doesn’t read like that at all (I don’t think) through the rearview mirror of history. We see a dyed-in-the-wool music fan, or somebody who learned to jump and jive in a Black Pentecostal church (or both!). We can’t really go back and see him with the fresh eyes of a 14 year old white fan raised in a puritanical post-war household, or through the fearful, hateful eyes of their 40 year old dad who was a Klan member. We see something pure and playful that was judged harshly based on clothing, movement, and rhythms associated with Black culture – a once-verboten combination of a white body and Black symbols that now just reads as “rock.”
I think Butler really did his homework and understands that contemporary audiences (especially younger folks for whom Elvis is more of a trope than a person) aren’t going to read rebellion and danger into a jittery cutiepie in a jazzy suit. Decades of psych rock, metal, and punk provocateurs – not to mention the sexual revolution and the civil rights movement – have changed our perspective immeasurably.
So what does Austin do? And how does Baz soundtrack it? Just before the scene where Elvis is drafted, we get the deliciously menacing song “Trouble” a bit earlier than the historical record would place it in Elvis’ repertoire, totally outside the context of Elvis the Family-Friendly Movie Star the King Creole (where he plays – shock! – a singing cutiepie).
In that scene, we get Austin’s Elvis in tailored head-to-toe black: more of a call forward to Johnny Cash or Jim Morrison than a call back to singing in tails to a dog on TV. As his audience vibrates toward a riot, Austin attacks/strangles his microphone with bared teeth and a ferocious snarl that goes well beyond Elvis’ trademark lip curl. Austin’s Elvis gets on his knees, inches from his fans, jutting his groin into their faces, then writhes on his back while screaming, “Evil!” Feedback and static corrupt and stutter the music.
I lost it. I got it. I loved it. I felt like Elvis had been tangibly, materially translated for an audience whose cultural vocabulary irrevocably includes decades of shock rock, blood, black leather, glam, mohawks, light shows, you name it. Austin’s artistic license, at its best, simulcasts the mythos of Elvis forward and backward through cultural time and cultural touchstones.
I keep thinking I’m done, but the responses to this thread keep getting better. Thanks, y’all.