Reinventing Elvis, on Paramount+

Steve Binder has an unusual distinction. He directed two TV specials that now have their own feature documentaries. One was the Stars Wars Holiday Special that really shouldn’t have been a holiday special. The other was the Elvis Comeback Special, which “Col.” Tom Parker wanted to be a Christmas special, but Presley and Binder had other ideas. They won the artistic battles and were vindicated by the special’s smashing success. John Scheinfeld chronicles the behind-the-scenes drama and analyzes the special’s legacy in Reinventing Elvis: The ’68 Comeback, which premieres Tuesday on Paramount+.

Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis did a nice job covering the Comeback Special, which might have helped usher Reinventing Elvis through the pre-production process. When it first aired, it was titled Singer Presents…Elvis, but now it is known as The ’68 Comeback Special. Regardless, Singer sewing machines was the lead sponsor. Admittedly, they do not sound very rock & roll, so maybe we can understand why Parker thought they wanted Christmas carols. However, the rest of America and Steve Binder wanted the old dangerous, gospel and country loving rock & roll Elvis.

Parker is definitely the documentary’s villain. Scheinfeld’s graphic even label him as such. Presley is the “star” and Binder is the “hero.” Maybe not so coincidentally, Binder is also the executive producer. Regardless, he was definitely on the right side of history as far Presley fans are concerned and several of the dancers from the big production numbers all agree Binder was great to work with.

Of course, Presley was the star. Some of the talking heads make a good point when they argue the informal jam session performances Binder filmed were a precursor to MTV Unplugged. It is also cool to see the great Scotty Moore getting shout-outs from the King. One thing is certain—there is no arguing with the effectiveness and screen presence of Presley’s black leather jump suit. It did make him sweat, but it sounds like his female fans thought that was a good thing.

Tribeca ’16: Elvis & Nixon

Generations of Americans grew up with the reassuring presences of Elvis Presley and Richard Nixon. You can’t get much more iconic than blue suede shoes, the swiveling hips not on The Ed Sullivan Show, Checkers the Dog, and the Pumpkin Papers. It turns out the two men had more in common than the general public generally assumed. Liza Johnson gives the famous late December 1970 summit meeting a thinly fictionalized treatment in Elvis & Nixon (trailer here), which is now playing in New York after screening as the centerpiece of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

In late 1970, Presley was already a regular fixture in Vegas, but it would be eighteen months before he cut his milestone cover of “Always On My Mind.” The Gospel-singing man from Memphis has had enough of the hippies, New Left agitators, and Black Panthers he sees on television. After shooting out the TV (because he’s Elvis), he decides to fly to DC in order to meet with Pres. Nixon. The King has a half-baked notion of becoming a “Federal Agent At-Large,” not that such a thing exists.

To fulfill his mission, Presley slips out from under the Colonel’s thumb, calling on his old friend and former Memphis Mafia member Jerry Schilling to coordinate the logistics. Of course, even in 1970, nobody could just walk into the Oval Office, but Elvis Presley could get closer than most. He finds a key ally in Egil Krogh, the White House policy specialist on narcotics, who not so realistically envisions the King serving as a powerful spokesman for the administration’s anti-drug campaign.

Elvis & Nixon is a surprisingly gentle and nostalgic film that truly forgives the foibles of its subjects. Johnson and the trio of screenwriters, Joey Sagal, Hanala Sagal, and actor Cary Elwes, zero in on the common ground shared by the two Horatio Alger figures. Frankly, it is downright shocking (in a good way), how steadfastly the film resists taking pot shots at the Nixon administration figures.

Although not an obvious candidate, Michael Shannon turns out to be an inspired choice for Presley. Granted, he hardly has that resonate baritone voice, but he can do Presley’s aura and bearing without resorting to shtick. He powerfully conveys both the pride and regrets of the man they still call “King.” As an added bonus, he shares some quietly effective scenes with Alex Pettyfer’s Schilling. On the other hand, it is harder for Kevin Spacey to avoid sliding into impersonation terrain as our beloved and reviled 37^th President. At least his Nixonisms never feel vindictive or cheap.

Watching the eccentrically simpatico chemistry shared by Shannon and Spacey will make viewers regret the famous 1970 meeting was a one-off. You can almost see Presley and Nixon being the sort of friends they really needed, because unlike Bebe Rebozo and the Memphis Mafia, each was completely separate from the other’s world. Regardless, it is strangely entertaining to watch the two legends eat M&Ms and drink Dr. Pepper together. Recommended rather affectionately, Elvis & Nixon is now playing in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and Bow Tie Chelsea, closely following its centerpiece screenings at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

SF Indie Fest ’13: The Last Elvis

Carlos Gutiérrez’s career is a lot like Nic Cage’s, but not quite as embarrassing.  Elvis Presley casts a long shadow over both.  In fact, Gutiérrez insists people call him Elvis.  The Argentine tribute performer’s lifelong passion veers into dark obsessive territory in Armando Bo’s The Last Elvis (trailer here), which screens during the 2013 San Francisco Independent Film Festival.

By day, Gutiérrez works on a factory assembly line.  Nights and weekends, he performs as an Elvis impersonator.  He is actually pretty good at it—arguably, too good.  Gutiérrez’s self-identification with Presley has severely strained his relationships with the ex-wife he insists on calling Priscilla and their young daughter Lisa.  Frankly, Gutiérrez is poor father material.  However, when Alejandro Olemburg (a.k.a. Priscilla) is critically injured in a car accident, Gutiérrez suddenly finds himself caring for Lisa.  After some initial awkwardness, Gutiérrez finally starts to bond with his daughter, but he continues preparing for his mysterious tour.

In some ways absolutely maddening, Last Elvis is nonetheless a startlingly compelling film, in no small measure due the real life Elvis tribute artist John McInerny’s dramatic and musical performances.  He has the voice, rocking heartfelt showstoppers like “You Were Always on My Mind” and “Unchained Melody.”  McInerny also wrings every possible ounce of pathos out of the tragically “gifted” Gutiérrez, despite actions that should profoundly challenge audience sympathy on paper.  His father-daughter chemistry with Margarita Lopez’s Lisa Marie is quite affecting as well.

Last Elvis is about as stark and murky as music-driven films ever get.  Bo co-wrote Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Biutiful and it is not hard to see a kinship between the films.  Yet, Last Elvis’s commanding use of Presley/McInerny’s music hits home even harder, especially for anyone who has been close to a struggling musician or tried to make a go of it themselves.

The Last Elvis screened at last year’s Sundance and LA film fests, but largely flew under the radar.  That is a shame, because it really packs a punch.  Audiences will be completely unprepared for the power of McInerny’s work, especially given his late Elvis look.  Good for SF Indie Fest for selecting it.  Recommended rather strongly for Elvis fans and patrons of Latin American cinema, The Last Elvis screens Sunday (2/10) and Tuesday (2/12) at the Roxie Theatre and Thursday (2/14) and the Shattuck Cinemas.

On Beale Street

On Beale Street
By Ronald Kidd
Simon & Schuster

In 1954, the Fourth of July fell on a Sunday, leading the churchgoing city fathers of Memphis to postpone the fireworks until the following night. At least that is how today’s holiday is observed in Ronald Kidd’s new YA novel On Beale Street, greatly disappointing the young protagonist Johnny Ross.

For a host of reason, young Ross would be happier up North, the least being fireworks. As the novel opens, he is an innocent white kid, about to get a rude awakening regarding racial realities in 1950’s Memphis. He also gets his first taste of the blues, and it has a powerful effect. He talks his way into a gofer position with Sam Phillips at Sun Records, and meets a shy white singer a few years older than him, who shares his new found taste in music. The name: Elvis.

Tentatively crossing the color line, Ross also befriends African American Lamont Turner, the son of his mother’s employer’s chauffeur-gardener, who happens to blow a mean harp. However, it is his legs that get the most attention:

“Lean and limber, wrapped in loose-fitting purple slacks, they swung and stretched and whipped and gyrated, knees bumping together and circling out again, always moving, never standing still, the pant legs flapping like flags.” (p. 44)

In Beale, it is no coincidence if that brings to mind the moves of Johnny Ross’s other musical friend, destined to create a stir on the Ed Sullivan show. Kidd addresses musical appropriation head-on, when Turner’s accusations make him the prime suspect in an assault (purely fictional) on Presley. It all leads to some hard lessons in race and reality for the young Ross.

When Kidd writes about race he prefers a heavy hand to a light touch. Granted issues of racial identity become central to his plot. Johnny Ross might start the book as an innocent kid, but even so, he seems pretty slow on the up-take. The strongest aspects of Beale are the historically accurate musical details Kidd weaves into his narrative. In addition to Presley, blues musicians James Cotton and Pat Hare also appear in their pre-Muddy Waters days. According to his post-script, Kidd had his manuscript vetted by Scotty Moore, Presley’s first and greatest guitarist, giving Beale his seal of approval.

Kidd is not exactly subtle when imparting his moral and some awkward passages needed greater editorial attention. However, it is a quick read that will explain the significance of the Blues and institutions like Memphis’s African American radio station WDIA to YA readers. It’s Friday night, so enjoy the fireworks. Happy Fourth of July.

Cyrus Plays Elvis

Cyrus Plays Elvis
By Cyrus Chestnut
Koch Records

Elvis Presley might be the king of rock ‘n’ roll, but many consider him an imitator of the great African American R&B artists who preceded him, even appropriating some of their hits. Now Cyrus Chestnut returns the favor, reinterpreting the Presley songbook in a jazz context with his latest release, Cyrus Plays Elvis.

While the Presley canon might seem like an odd (the snobbish might say pandering) choice for a jazz musician, Chestnut has long been attracted to crowd pleasing music, regularly playing Christmas music during his holiday season engagements, for instance. Like Presley, Chestnut also has deep gospel roots. Though at times uneven, Cyrus Plays Elvis is largely unabashedly breezy, fun music that would nicely go with an afternoon at the local coffee-house.

CPE opens with “Hound Dog,” actually one of the most faithful adaptations, taken as an up-tempo rollicker that does feature some dazzling runs by Chestnut. There are perils in tackling an iconic artist’s songbook, in that opinions will vary widely as to which are the true highlights and which are merely over-rated hits. Honestly, “Hound Dog” never really did it for me, and neither did the following “Don’t Be Cruel.” However, Chestnut gives it an interesting twist, taking it at a slower tempo to get to its blues core, at times even throwing in some Monkish accents.

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” gets a much more faithful reading, that sticks largely to the original melody. The addition of Mark Gross’s soprano is pretty, at the risk of sounding syrupy. As a delicate love song “Love Me Tender” is more successful, showcasing Chestnut inventiveness but maintaining an intimate vibe. Gross returns on tenor later on the more successfully sentimental “Don’t,” but one cannot help thinking this would have been better as a strictly trio release, given Chestnut is much more interesting as a soloist, but plays primarily a supportive role on the horn tracks.

There is one “inspired by” original titled “Graceland” that nicely demonstrates his trio’s compatibility swinging together nicely. “Heartbreak Hotel” ranges furthest afield from the original Presley version, given a darker sound, slower tempo, and more elliptical melody statement by Chestnut, as well as more turbulent percussion by drummer Neal Smith. Chestnut also ratchets down “In the Ghetto,” from a sweeping social-issue song (one of very few in the Presley songbook) to an introspective personal statement.

“How Great Thou Art” was probably the only tune here that was in Chestnut’s repertoire before the Presley project. It is one of the many hymns Presley recorded. (According to his biographers, Presley’s favorite pastimes included singing gospel songs with friends, and listening to the records of Sister Rosetta Tharpe.) His spare but stirring solo performance is a fitting conclusion to his Presley program.

CPE is at its best without a guest horn, and when the arrangements venture away from the familiar Presley recordings. Throughout, Chestnut is a consistently inventive soloist who often does put his personal stamp on these songs. Considering the proliferation of Beatles jazz projects, it seems strange the home-grown King remains relatively untapped. CPE takes a credible, if not groundbreaking, crack at his songs.

(Note: This review was reprinted in the 12/6/07 edition of The Epoch Times by permission of J.B. Spins.)