it drags, leaps and skips..
Singer’s adaptation of the ups and downs of Freddie Mercury and the infamous Queens, is barely of the quality that their music was. This is an unstable feature. Fumbling down the road, it drags, leaps and skips out all the crispy and husky bits that actually makes it appetizing. There are only few genuine moments that gives you the electrifying feeling of the stage and that too can only be achieved if the audience reaches out for the makers. It doesn’t serve you its thrills and chills like it should.
It makes you work hard for it. It makes you earn its sweet and juicy moments. It is a very difficult feature to watch. The uncomfortable in the uncertainty that the entire trajectory is covered under, itches you till the last frame of the feature. It is so bizarrely confined in its world that it never grows beyond its frizzy bubble. Even the last act, to which the entire feature builds up to, is so under pressure that it collapse before it even builds itself up.
Singer is working so hard to make your feet groove that you can practically watch him sweat behind the screen. And that is so not a delightful sight to encounter. And in that ten to twelve minutes of a sequence, he barely draws out a nod from the viewers. The rest of the personal experiences of Freddie Mercury that is depicted in here, is so non cinematic that none of the drama conveys the message clearly. Again, it is so poorly constructed and written with such dull skills, that it comes off as two guys sharing the moments by reminiscing about it and they neither care nor feels to share the actual momentum of that chapter.
The first act is your usual rise and fame dipped with mistakes and hints imputed by tiny innuendos that would give away the rest of the act. And the middle one, are just series of events that you have already predicted, being performed and projected with none whatsoever energy or enthusiasm from the makers. The editing is the major conundrum of the feature. It is not well shot or molded out. It is benign and juvenile at times, that it looks like it is mocking its own concept. It takes its material for granted and fails to communicate the gravitas of that feeling or moment. Malek is investing all his chips in. And you can point that out easily. His study on the lead singer of the Queen is plausible and way too technical.
It is so mechanical that it is left out a bit dry. There is no depth in his eyes, it is always calculative. He doesn’t go with the flow. He is measuring the crust of his performance which makes it less and less shallow. He has given enough range by the writers, McCarten and Morgan, to flaunt his skills and create a powerful impact on the viewers, but at those times the feature grows weak. Bohemian Rhapsody should have had the performance of the year and should have been the musical of the year, at least it had the potential to, but it’s nothing more than a swing and a miss.