“Between 1969 and 1977, Elvis played 1,100 shows, sometimes 3 times a day.”
The postscript of Baz Luhrmann’s EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert—the extravagant, divisive Australian wunderkind’s first documentary, and hopefully not his last—says something essential about the late Elvis we witness afresh with new eyes and ears: the rock n’ roll legend gave everything he had to his Vegas-era.
In a way, EPiC is the most naturalistic film Luhrmann’s ever made, unconventionally employing the traditional layout of a tell-all music doc. But that’s a misnomer under the singular, kinetic eye of the Moulin Rouge and Romeo + Juliet director, who brings a dazzling energy—as show-stopping in cinematic terms as The King’s concerts were in the musical—to the well-worn documentary style that electrifies the viewer into a state of ecstasy from start to finish.
Speeding forward at a million miles per hour, Luhrmann straps viewers into a rollercoaster of unseen rehearsal and concert footage from Elvis’ storied stint at The International Hotel, complemented by footage of shows from across Elvis’ career, press coverage, political context, religious critics, cultural commentators, fan reactions, his films, and everything in between. If you’ve never understood the historic hype behind Elvis, you’ve come to the right place. And if you’re a part of it, you’ll be in heaven for a brisk 90 minutes that you’ll wish were 90 longer.
There are 426 songs in Elvis’ catalogue, and his Vegas band learned around 150 of them, including covers from other artists and blasting renditions of hymnal Christian anthems. On stage, Elvis can change the song in real time or call audibles as much as he wants, utilizing the unparalleled musical talent at his disposal: a lightning drummer; rhythm, lead, and bass guitarists who never miss a note, riff, or chord; a triumphant horn section; a miniature fem gospel choir; a full masc barbershop quartet; and more.
We watch the show come to life from its earliest experimental phase—with only the core rhythm section in attendance—to the addition of all the extra pieces, to the first show, to five weeks into the show, when everything is simply second-nature to the small music village onstage. Through voiceover pulled from interviews, Elvis walks us through his life leading up to the Vegas era—briefly detailing his origins, his arrest, his war years, his Hollywood years (more war-like than the war years, it turns out), and what led to Vegas, which he describes as his way out of the Hollywood spiral he’d got sucked into, which was killing his career.
Before we get to the show, Luhrmann delivers unseen Get Back-esque footage of the rehearsals at various stages, when Elvis is clearly in a better state than the one he would end up in. Naturally, he sings the Beatles: “Yesterday,” “Something,” and “Get Back.” (Peter Jackson gets a special thanks in the credits, likely for advising on how to sort through a wealth of unseen footage from the only musician historically on par with the Fab Four.)
As soon as the curtains open on his first show, the unhinged mania that has always surrounded Elvis erupts, sending a shockwave through your body, especially in IMAX. As one commentator so astutely puts it, he “plays the audience like one giant instrument.” The music bursts into action, we see exactly what Elvis is made of in the most impressive sense, and it isn’t long before we’re buried in a montage of The King kissing girls in the front row, which leads to a montage of him kissing girls throughout the audience, which leads to a montage of him kissing girls throughout his career, making each individual’s life in one (what is for him) incredibly casual moment.
On top of The King’s legend, EPiC makes one thing absolutely clear: Elvis is a natural in every sense of the word—the way he moves, talks, thinks, sings, and jokes all come second-nature, giving way to the kind of seminal confidence that creates epochal hysteria. As if the music and dancing isn’t enough, he makes little speeches to the crowd between songs that get comedy special-grade laughs and funeral-grade silences of admiration and respect.
His lush, vibrant costumes are presented in 21st-century technicolor from colorist Brett Manson, who also worked on Luhrmann’s Elvis, as so many of the post-production team did. Luhrmann assembled a crew for the ages, one that shows how much magic can be created from the aimlessness of historical footage woven together when there’s a visionary (or several) directing the process into a cohesive whole.
All films are re-made in the editing room, as the saying goes, but as a film that was captured by over a hundred different people throughout history in disparate parts, various soundscapes, and visual aesthetics that were never meant to be woven together, EPiC is entirely fashioned in the editing room (thanks to real-life wizard Jonathan Redmond), re-fashioned in the music placement process (with brilliant original compositions from Elliott Wheeler), refashioned again in the sound design (more akin to material ripped from a war film than a music doc), and breathed to life by the colorist. It’s a testament to the wonders of post-production.
Despite the history at its core—or, really, because of it—EPiC is one of Luhrmann’s most operatic, flamboyant, surreal films yet. And it’s the perfect vessel to showcase the real deal, The King in living color: Elvis as he truly was.
EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert is now in theaters.