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Freddie Mercury Has Been My Idol Since I Was 10. I Will Not Pay To See ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’
Out of principle, despite being a writer, I don’t have favourite movies or books. There are too many I have not seen or read yet and only more will come out eventually, so I simply cannot choose a finite favourite. Music is different. I have known since the very first time I heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” as a kid that Queen is my favourite band, Freddie Mercury my favourite musician. I own every album, I’ve read the books, watched the documentaries and concerts, given money to the Mercury Phoenix Trust for years (which you should too), and even travelled from New York to Wembley Stadium dressed as Freddie Mercury. Freddie helped me discover my voice as an artist and as a human being. Nonetheless, I simply cannot support the upcoming cash-grab biopic about him. It is my very love of Queen that prevents me from buying a ticket to Bohemian Rhapsody.
The song title “Bohemian Rhapsody” is emblematic of Queen’s legacy and a window into the depths of the artist known as Freddie Mercury, who was born Farrokh Bulsara on September 5th 1946 in Zanzibar. The song is multilayered; flashy with soft subtleties, and wild, romantic, and epic like the man himself. The song was and remains subversive — a non-cynical ode to creativity and nonsense (no one will truly ever know how to do the Fandango…), composed and sung with authentic musical celebration. On the contrary, Bohemian Rhapsody is a lazy title for a film about Queen and Freddie Mercury, indicative of its hollow nature. It is cheap fan-baiting, and exemplary of the filmmakers’, and more accurately drummer Roger Taylor and guitarist Brian May’s, exploitative, diminished creativity (bassist John Deacon has long since separated himself from Queen’s dealings out of respect for Freddie).
Beyond the alleged revisionism on Freddie Mercury’s sexuality, a truly insidious flaw of Bohemian Rhapsody is its vapid consumerist approach. The movie looks excruciatingly average. And it’s not just average like a boring movie, it’s average at the expense of all that could have made it breathtaking and worth the money to see. It’s average, and Freddie would never settle for average.
Look at the production itself: Bryan Singer is an artistically average, financially dependable director whose only legacy is…
