The Problem with Musical Biopics
Isabel Soole Sanchez
Earlier this week, Michael, yet another Hollywood musical biopic, graced our screens. Released to derision from critics and near-complete public disinterest, one must wonder if the biopic craze of recent years will at last come to an end. Yet, given the announcement of the far more eagerly anticipated Beatles movie and the popularity of Elvis and A Complete Unknown, we may safely say that this seems unlikely.
The startlingly rapid rise of the musical biopic is not at all surprising. Built upon the renown of a once culturally relevant figure and the notoriety of the A-list actor who portrays them, it seems the perfect model for a film’s success with critics and public alike.
What is appreciated in a musical biopic is not the innovation of the writer or director, but rather the “authenticity” of the production — how closely a musician’s most notable moments may be reproduced. And while the research devoted to such projects is often commended as one of its great merits, a musical biopic is ultimately a study of the limited public knowledge of a musician’s life. The indignation of the musician’s family for the inauthenticity of the narrative often makes headlines.
Ultimately, the public care little to learn more about the musician’s life. Rather, what they wish to see onscreen is an image previously manufactured for the greatest profit. Thus, the biopic may be seen as a reproduction of a reproduction of an artist’s identity.
Unlike historical biopics such as Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer and Sophia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette – which serve to uplift the director’s own style and cultural relevance – musical biopics often obscure their director in favour of their shiny subjects and the actors who portray them. The vague remembrance of a recently deceased musician is too simple and too fixed in its construction of legacy to allow for much creativity. With little room to provide a different interpretation of a pre-established legacy, the film makers seem increasingly restricted and thus less and less inclined toward inventiveness. They are not merely contributing to the legacy of the musician, but to a legacy of the musical biopic, a rigid paradigm for the way in which a musician’s life is captured through the Hollywood lens.
Perhaps a biopic does not have to be faithful, or even kind to its subjects. Rather than a tribute to the artist, the musical biopic reflects the public who received the artist then and now. Ravenous for entry into the artist’s lives and yet uninterested in anything but the contrived images of the musician, the work of film makers becomes feeding the audience and studying their preconceptions. And while this appeal to the audience generates great box office success, one may wonder whether the legacies of such films will truly endure should they more greatly reflect the public’s tastes over the idiosyncratic style and identity of the film maker.
In a culture of reboots, sequels, and cheap appeals to nostalgia, the musical biopic is symptomatic of a wider public interest in escape from our uncertain political and social climate. In lieu of engaging with what is current through creative and original work, we seek out a simplified and unchanging past. As biopics begin to fade out of public interest and fail to cement endurance in the zeitgeist, the question remains how long Hollywood will attempt to keep the dying genre alive, and what soulless appeal to public nostalgia will inevitably replace it.
