I’VE always felt there’s a strong element of the classic Greek tragedy in the ebb and flow of the life story of Elvis.
That fantastic fable of a poor white kid from the wrong side of the tracks with a preternatural gift, who is dragged at breakneck speed by forces beyond his control deep into a whirlwind of untold global fame and then spat out just as swiftly, a shell of his former self, feels like a tale older than time itself.
Return Of The King - The Fall And Rise Of Elvis Presley, which is streaming now on Netflix, is a documentary that taps into the epic nature of the man’s unique story beautifully.
Return Of The King - The Fall And Rise Of Elvis Presley taps into the epic nature of the man’s unique story beautifully
On the surface, it’s the tale of how a simple American TV special, actually just called “Elvis” but now usually referred to as ‘The 68 Comeback Special’, pulled the one time King Of Rock And Roll out of the cultural quicksand his manager Col Tom Parker had immersed him in through much of the 60s to become once again one of the greatest lightning conductors the artistic world has ever seen - but really, it’s much more than that.
This is the bigger story of a superstar seeking out the source that first sparked him and getting to roar one more time against the wishes of his money-grubbing management. As such, it’s an incredible piece of work.
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Director Jason Hehir takes us right back through the man’s life from his poverty-stricken beginnings to the riches of rock and roll, but it all comes to a head when the 1960s are dying and Elvis is left floundering around in an ever-deepening sinkhole of miserable movies and cultural insignificance.
The glitzy proposed TV special that his manager suggests might appease his charge starts out a standard exercise in showbiz tomfoolery, with tacky skits and lip-synched show numbers, but Elvis fights to get something more real on camera, pushing for an earthy return to his R&B and gospel roots.
Unsurprisingly, that’s when the magic really arrives. The footage of an intensely nervous Elvis with acoustic guitar in hand, jamming on old favourites with old friends, dressed head to toe in black leather and pacing that boxing ring-shaped TV studio stage like a caged tiger, belting out Jailhouse Rock as if his actual life depended on it, is just astonishing.
By the time he finishes up with a version of If I Can Dream so ragged and impassioned that you wonder if he’ll make it to the end, tears were in my eyes.
Even the many talking heads, usually the weakest part of these things, just seem to nail it. Everyone from Priscilla to Bruce Springsteen wax lyrical about the man’s boundless on-stage charisma, but Conan O’Brien puts it best when he says “I wish that people would have some empathy for him.
“We turn celebrities into objects. This was a person. A person who was terrified of putting it all out there.
“I’m joyous when I see that Special because... it’s him standing up for himself.”
Amen to that.
