will undoubtedly ensure more foot-stomping and fist-pumping rock 'n' roll biopics in our future. The good news is that there is no end to worthy subjects . The bad news is that fans of the genre — as well as the performers portrayed — are being poorly served by these entertaining but ultimately vapid confections that seem pre-fabbed to sell song downloads rather than take a deep dive into the artists' psyches.
The necessary essence of all biopics about rock stars can be summed up in an incisive line from Elton John and Bernie Taupin's 1972 song "Rocket Man": "I'm not the man they think I am at home." These movies promise to explore the difference between the glitz and glam of the performer's public persona and their vulnerable cry-real-tears-just-like-us "authentic" selves. Sadly, they rarely live up to that promise.
This might sound as if I don't enjoy these films. Not true. I enjoy them the same way I enjoy a John Wick film, reality TV or fast food. They satisfy a craving for the uncomplicated guilty pleasures. The difference is that my expectations are adjusted in that list to not hope for more.
That's why one of the most important aspects of understanding these artists is exploring their complex and delicate relationship to their art and the creative process, how the agony of their personal struggles is shaped into their art. With most contemporary music biopics, all we get are the same old melodramas with sensationalist scenes that exist only to distract us until the next popular song.
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