How do you capture a supernova in human form? Rocketman, the 2019 biopic of Elton John, doesn’t just try it soars, with a kaleidoscope of fantasy and raw emotion that feels like a backstage pass to a legend’s psyche. Directed by Dexter Fletcher, this isn’t a stuffy Wikipedia page of a movie; it’s a vibrant, sequined fever dream that stitches together Elton’s highs and lows with audacious flair. Let’s dive into what makes it dazzle and where it stumbles.

Taron Egerton’s performance is the beating heart of Rocketman. He doesn’t just play Elton; he inhabits him, from the trembling vulnerability of a young Reggie Dwight to the swaggering showman in bedazzled jumpsuits. Egerton’s voice, raw and soulful, carries Elton’s hits like “Your Song” and “Tiny Dancer” with a freshness that honors the originals while feeling utterly his own. His chemistry with Jamie Bell’s Bernie Taupin crackles, grounding the film in a tender, platonic love story that anchors the chaos. But it’s Egerton’s portrayal of Elton’s addiction and self-loathing that cuts deepest, his eyes a mirror to a man wrestling with fame’s gilded cage.

The film’s visual language, a blend of gritty realism and surreal musical numbers, is its secret weapon. Fletcher leans into the fantastical, turning “Crocodile Rock” into a levitating spectacle and “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” into a gritty street brawl. Lee Hall’s screenplay weaves these sequences into Elton’s emotional arc each song a chapter of his pain or triumph. Yet, the pacing occasionally trips over its own ambition, especially in the second act, where the cycle of excess and despair feels repetitive, like a needle stuck on a vinyl groove.

Rocketman resonates today because it’s not just a nostalgic jukebox romp; it’s a raw look at identity, addiction, and redemption in an era where mental health and self-acceptance dominate cultural conversations. Fans craving authenticity in 2025’s polished streaming landscape will find its unapologetic messiness refreshing. Still, it’s not flawless some secondary characters, like Elton’s mother (Bryce Dallas Howard), feel more like archetypes than people. But when the credits roll, you’re left with a portrait of a man who found his light in the darkness. Watch it, and you’ll hear Elton’s music anew, like a friend confessing their truth over late-night drinks.