‘Elton John: Never Too Late’ Review: A Rock Superstar Portrait Stuffed With 1970s Archival Wealth but Starved of Self-Reflection

As a music critic with a deep appreciation for the evolution of popular music and its cultural significance, I find this documentary to be a captivating yet somewhat incomplete journey through the remarkable life of Sir Elton John. While it does an excellent job showcasing his iconic performances and interviews, it falls short in providing the critical context that would truly elevate the viewing experience.

In the movie Elton John: Never Too Late, directed by his husband David Furnish, although it’s consistently entertaining, there’s a strange lack of personal connection and intimacy. For those eager to reminisce about Elton John’s career peak, this Disney+ documentary offers an abundance of thrilling concert footage, insightful interviews, and captivating images that showcase John in both his energetic performance phase and reflective solitude. Fans are sure to be enthralled. However, the modern narrative focusing on him preparing for a final show falls flat compared to the vibrancy of the past.

Attending that 2022 concert at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles felt like the culmination of my half-century journey, as a fan, following John’s tours across North America. It was a poignant full-circle moment, echoing back to his iconic 1975 show at the same venue, where he wowed 110,000 fans, resplendent in a Bob Mackie-designed sequined Dodgers uniform, symbolizing the peak of his global fame.

Directors R.J. Cutler and Furnish construct their biopic primarily from recorded discussions between Alexis Petridis, a music critic from The Guardian, and John (the subject of the movie), during the process of writing his memoir. Petridis also acted as the ghostwriter for this 2019 publication, titled “Me”. These talks mainly revolve around John’s successful 1970s period, offering a friendly yet seemingly soft approach to questioning – at least based on the snippets we hear. John’s autobiography is notable for its honesty and a good mix of self-deprecation and self-awareness. Regrettably, it seems that more of this authenticity could have been reflected in the film.

The “Never Too Late” tour stops in multiple North American cities before the L.A. show on the “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour are marked with distinct stops in various locations, such as “9 Months to Dodger Stadium.” These bold, pink texts create a countdown-like structure, but there’s no dramatic anticipation or sense of an impending grand event.

Instead, we are treated to some charming backstage moments as well as intimate glimpses of John, showing affection towards his band, doting on a video call with his two young sons in England, and enthusiastically supporting new talent during his radio show, the Rocket Hour. Yet, the access seems carefully managed, seldom providing deep insights.

In the Petridis interviews and John’s supplementary remarks, he sketches out a life narrative that longtime fans may recognize from past documentaries, specials, magazine profiles, his autobiography, and the 2019 film Rocketman, where Taron Egerton portrayed him.

It’s not a denial that this global superstar, cherished by countless fans, doesn’t experience a profound sadness due to the irony of his life – as John describes it. He openly acknowledges that during the times often viewed as golden in his life, he had nothing but success and drug use, followed by an abusive relationship with John Reid, who also introduced him to cocaine.

However, on numerous occasions, John has shared his journey from addiction and craving for emotional connection to sobriety and ultimately love and family – a story that seems repetitive now, hinting at the shallowness of his hindsight viewpoint. John’s lack of willingness to delve deeper into his past makes him a challenging subject for documentaries.

He tends to speak more openly about his troubled childhood, often retreating into his own imaginary world during heated arguments with his abusive parents. His exceptional piano skills, which earned him attention, made him visible where he once felt invisible before. At the Royal Academy of Music, he realized that classical music wasn’t his calling.

Driven by the fast-paced editing work of editors Greg Finton and Poppy Das, featuring split-screens and animated sequences, the movie takes us on a journey through the beginning of a band led by him, which had the opportunity to open for acts like The Drifters, The Temptations, and Patti LaBelle. During this period, he also decided to change his name from Reginald Dwight, sensing that Reg might not reach much but John could.

The fortuitous meeting that laid the groundwork for John’s future triumph occurred spontaneously during a job interview at a record company, where he was given a stack of lyrics penned by Bernie Taupin. In an engaging TV clip, he is seen at the piano with the original “Tiny Dancer” lyrics, elucidating how crucial words like “ballerina” influenced both the song’s tempo and chord progression.

Demystifying the seamless creativity that characterized their songwriting partnership over five years and revealing how effortlessly words moved from paper to piano, only highlights the awe-inspiring volume of timeless melodies they produced during this period. Additionally, John’s sentiments about his friendship with Taupin are heartwarming.

He proved equally proficient at crafting pop ballads and rock bangers. “Your Song,” “Crocodile Rock,” “Bennie and the Jets,” “Rocket Man,” “Daniel,” “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting,” “The Bitch Is Back,” “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” “Philadelphia Freedom”: the concentration of all-timers in such a short window is dizzying. Not to mention the bounty of deep cuts.

Frequently, his music would take a turn towards gospel, as seen in “Border Song”, or it would become more powerful and anthemic, like “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” and “Candle in the Wind”. Notably, “Candle in the Wind” was heard during a recording session, marking the first time John played with an orchestra.

John’s flamboyant piano style was heavily inspired by early artists like Winifred Atwell, Little Richard, and Jerry Lee Lewis. This led him to become an exhilarating performer on stage, frequently performing while standing at the piano and using it as a trampoline-like surface, much like a gymnast does. However, in footage from a concert that catapulted his career, a 1970 performance at L.A.’s Troubadour club with an audience of merely 250 people, there are no theatrics, just a musician deeply focused on his keyboard, crafting music that left critics struggling to find fitting compliments.

I would prefer if there had been additional instances where John appeared lively and entirely absorbed, much like he does when reminiscing about his friendship with John Lennon and their exhilarating nights using cocaine, to the point where they once hid in a hotel room, giggling like children, while disregarding Andy Warhol knocking at the door.

John Lennon hadn’t performed live since The Beatles’ final concert in 1966. However, he was convinced to make a surprise appearance at a Thanksgiving show in Madison Square Garden in 1974, where they had planned for him to perform their No. 1 hit “Whatever Gets You Through the Night.” It’s no wonder the crowd was ecstatic. Afterwards, John Lennon claimed credit for rekindling the relationship between Lennon and Yoko Ono that evening after a brief separation. The story is charming, but it’s unfortunate that the film failed to highlight their earlier collaboration on Lennon’s cover of “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.

In this presentation, there seems to be a lack of insightful analysis that a music critic could provide, explaining how John seamlessly blended ’60s pop with ’70s rock. While the historical performance and interview clips are excellent, they might have been enhanced by occasional external commentary, offering more analytical perspectives than just John’s reminiscences. It would also be interesting to hear from some of the exceptional musicians who collaborated with him during that time, such as Nigel Olsson, Dee Murray, and Davey Johnstone. Their insights could have added depth to this narrative.

My incredible string of creative breakthroughs has been narrowed down to a simple tale – from a humble gamer, I climbed the ranks, crafting iconic game designs, building an extravagant online persona, and reaching global fame. But instead of filling the emptiness within me with true connections, I numbed myself with parties, substances, and fleeting relationships.

Fabulous shots of the elaborate costumes in which he peacocked around the stage (I would kill for that lime-green three-piece sequined suit) also represent a missed opportunity. John says the outrageous get-ups were a reaction to everything he wasn’t allowed to do as a child. But a queer theorist might have dug into the way those costumes were an expression of the sexuality at that time still locked in the closet.

The movie explores how a 1976 Rolling Stone cover article affected him, where he opened up about his desire for love but hadn’t found anyone, regardless of gender, with whom he wanted to establish a long-term relationship. John discusses the backlash, such as conservative radio stations damaging his records, and the liberation that even this partial confession provided him. However, this level of openness was not enough for him to live openly as a gay man.

In 1984, sound engineer Renate Blauer became John’s wife. This three-year marriage is not discussed here, yet it raised eyebrows among those with even a basic gay awareness. Much like Liberace and Barry Manilow, John was not openly gay, although he may have been if you were observant. It’s not necessary for a prominent LGBTQ figure to discuss LGBTQ rights in this documentary, but his perspective on his own journey in the context of the broader picture could have provided valuable insight.

In the ’70s, I can just imagine the record executives were nervous butterflies, fearing the impact on sales and airplay if one of their top artists came out as gay. Fast forward to today, he’s a happily married man, still one of the most cherished figures in popular music, whose tunes have been spreading joy for decades.

The filmmakers deserve recognition for skillfully constructing the narrative to suggest a climactic moment in 1993 when John and Furnish began their relationship, positioning one as a savior to the other. However, contrary to expectations, this dramatic turning point is not depicted. Instead, their civil partnership in 2005 is briefly mentioned, and there’s no reference to the transformation of that union into a marriage in 2014 when same-sex marriage became legal in England.

Choosing not to emphasize these significant turning points in a person’s life, despite the recurring emphasis by ‘Never Too Late’ on the importance of addressing such gaps, appears somewhat peculiar and potentially diminishes the emotional impact.

The performance at Dodger Stadium in 2022 was challenged by some moments, but it was counterbalanced by a string of touching instances. For instance, when John poured emotion into “Someone Saved My Life Tonight,” another when he invited Taupin to take a bow, and lastly, when he confidently introduced his husband and sons onto the stage, explaining that they were the motivation behind his retirement, each of them gleaming with pride.

2024-09-12 19:56

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