Mark Reviews Movies: THE KING (2018)

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 19, 2018

The rise and fall of Elvis Presley serve as a fitting metaphor for the rise and fall of the United States. That's the thesis of Eugene Jarecki's documentary The King, which is as ambitious in the scope of its central idea as it is unassuming in execution. The film cobbles together interviews, musical performances, archival footage, and media coverage of current events to make its argument, although the case remains more conceptual than tangible.

This might seem like a failing on Jarecki's part, but the end result is a film that searches for meaning from beginning to end—much as Presley seemed to be seeking fulfillment in his life until his death and as this country continues to look for its place in history, in the world, and in the diverse and often divided minds of its population. This is more an experience than a cogent argument. The connections between Presley's life and the history of the U.S. arrive from its assorted talking heads, who are interviewed against generic backdrops or within the King's old 1963 Rolls Royce, as it follows the winding course that Presley took in his 42 years of living. Everything is on the table, up for debate, and open to speculation, but to the credit of Jarecki and his assembled interview subjects, they make a series of worthwhile observations and contentions.

The film's guiding force is a biography of Presley, beginning with his birth in Tupelo, Mississippi, and ending with his death of a heart attack at his Graceland mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. From abject poverty to previously unknown fame, Presley has become something of the embodiment of the idea of the American Dream—that, through talent and hard work, a person can rise above one's socioeconomic station and become just about anything, even, within the minds of a democratic republic, a king of sorts.

There's a contradiction there, obviously, and it's one of many that Jarecki and his interviewees see throughout Presley's life, influence, and legacy. Early on, the most prominent contradiction is in how the King's career began. Here was a poor, white kid, who grew up in a home in a segregated part of Tupelo. Presley's birthplace, outside of that previously segregated area of the city, has prominence as a tourist spot. The home where he grew up, though, is an anonymous place that Jarecki has to hunt down by asking locals of a neighborhood that still looks as if it is under some law from the era of segregation. Presley grew up listening to the blues and the early days of rock and roll. It was him, singing songs that were performed by black artists for a primarily black audience, that helped bring rock and roll into the mainstream.

Depending on whom you ask, this is either a slight, following a tradition of stealing and profiting off of cultural oppression, or a cultural coup. Did Presley steal from black artists, or did he bring their art to greater prominence? Jarecki hears both sides of the argument: the former part from political activist Van Jones and the latter from rapper/producer Chuck D. The arguments are complicated by Presley's refusal to take a side in the civil rights movement of his day, but it's possible that, in his own and unspoken way, he did participate, if only in shifting the culture of his age.

Jarecki isn't looking for answers to such complex issues. His task is simply to highlight them, to have people with some direct or surprising knowledge of the subjects talk about them freely, and to force us to deal with them on our own. Presley's life ends up being rich with such potential—from his days in the Army (when he was used as a poster child for what a "good, American boy" should be and, apparently, became disillusioned by the experience), to his movie career (when he was pigeonholed into certain types of movies that didn't give him the chance to evolve as an artist), to his "comeback" TV specials (when his health problems became more and more apparent), to the addiction to pills that would eventually end his life.

As filled as the film is with commentary about the possible connections between Presley and the U.S., it also serves as a mournful examination of the King's life, which never had the chance of tasting normal before it became extraordinary. It's an almost distinctly American kind of tragedy, in which a poor kid can obtain more than he ever dreamed of and still retain the loneliness of an isolated mama's boy growing up in poverty.

There's a sad story, perhaps just a myth, about Presley's universally derided manager Colonel Tom Parker placing a blanket over the musician's head to keep his adoring fans from seeing him. As the culture shifted away from Presley, Parker still placed a blanket over the King's head, so that he couldn't see the lack of fans. Jarecki interviews Presley's surviving friends and bandmates, who offer some insight, as well as actors Ethan Hawke, Alec Baldwin, and Ashton Kutcher, who know a thing or two about how fame can affect a person.

There's music, too, of course, as musicians get into the backseat of the Rolls Royce and perform, while driving in the places where Presley called home at one point or another. The car breaks down more than once, which Jarecki and his crew see as almost too apt a metaphor within their metaphorical conceit.

The King is a scattered film, touching upon the notion of the U.S. as an empire and the 2016 election. It's held together, though, by a group of thoughtful people who are clearly and genuinely intrigued by Jarecki's thesis.

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