Denis Sanders
Elvis: That's the Way It Is

Last July 19th marked the 68th anniversary of the release of That's All Right/Blue Moon of Kentucky, Elvis Presley's very first 45 RPM record. On that occasion, I felt the urge to watch Baz Luhrmann's Elvis, but none of the local cinemas were showing it at feasible times for me. So I thought I'd settle for one of the singer's films, one of those '60s musicals, but no video rental or library near my house, nor any streaming service had one (in fact, there are several on Amazon Prime Video, but they are paid, and I have no intention of financially supporting that company). Fortunately, there was at least a video rental that had the DVD of the musical documentary Elvis: That's the Way It Is, so I watched that.

It was a mind-blowing experience.

Once, even before the middle of the concert, Elvis Presley began singing Love Me Tender, he descended from the stage and, while the band continued to play in the background, he slowly processed through the audience, shaking hands with the men and passionately kissing young and old, white and black, beautiful and ugly women who surrounded him, cried, pressed against him, and fainted at his feet, treating him like a pagan idol, a fertility god with large testicles, like a perspiring Priapus dried by the embroidered handkerchiefs of virgins, like a guardian spirit from whom they receive his seed through mystical contact and become pregnant, like a Jesus of sex, I had already decided to give this film 5 stars.

The orgy scene of Love Me Tender, because that's essentially what it is even if they are all respectably dressed, is the most impressive testimony to the absolute messianic power that Elvis Presley exerted over his disciples, his even unsettling ability to induce orgasms at will, his being the reincarnation of Antinous (who has the same nose), or the glamorous version of Terence Stamp's character in Pasolini’s Teorema, or the non-NSFW version of Frank-N-Furter: a bundle of raven-haired muscles wrapped in Bill Belew's iconic jumpsuits, all tight, immaculate, sparkling, with golden insignia and Napoleonic collars underlining his imperial dignity.

Elvis: That's the Way It Is is a documentary that records the residency held by Elvis Presley at the International Hotel in Las Vegas in January and February 1970. The first part shows the rehearsals, the second the concert with a collage of songs from various performances. Beyond the splendid all-hits lineup (with #ceancheunpodItalia with the English version of Io che non vivo), what truly strikes about the concert is the complete possession that the singer has of his body and stage, as they become one with each other. Elvis bends, twists, raises his eyes to the sky like Saint Teresa of Avila in ecstasy, descends to the ground, rises again, uses his body as an object of desire, as a sprinkler of pheromones that hit everyone sitting in the hall. At the same time, his body is also an independent object that produces music: it seems like he telepathically controls the lighting system, the mixer, the band’s musicians, everything reacts as if by magic to the slightest movement of his body. He moves a finger, and the strings start; he kicks in the air, and the drums play; he hints at a smile, and the backup singers begin their harmonies: he is perfect, a born conductor, the natural source of music.

Of course, this visceral coordination between the singer and the stage is actually the result of countless hours of rehearsals in the studio and on stage with a top-level artistic and technical cast (I’ll just mention drummer Ronnie Tutt because he's outstanding, but all are excellent), yet this does not diminish the extraordinary effect of the performances at all. Elvis is the stage, and the stage is Elvis. Unbelievable, if you don’t see it, you won’t believe it.

And then what an entertainment ability, what inimitable readiness to instantly shift from a dramatic to a comedic register, as when he sings the masterpiece Suspicious Minds and during the powerful, passionate sing along approaches the backup singers and finds time, in the space of two seconds between two lines, to joke with them, without missing a word of the song and at the same time making the backup singers (and the audience) burst into laughter. What other genius of entertainment has ever been able to do something even remotely similar?

I'm sorry I never got to attend a live concert by Elvis Presley, but at least I’m glad to live in the era of technical reproducibility, which allows for preserving the memory of these performances. Truly a piece of History.

Brief note on the film’s purely cinematic aspects: direction, cinematography, and especially editing are excellent and, considering the year of production, closer to an art house, almost Warholian production, rather than a mainstream one. The shots are simple, perhaps technically limited, but compensated by the fast-paced editing, which on some occasions combines various performances of the same song, as you can tell from Elvis wearing different outfits from one shot to the next, achieving an almost psychedelic result, as if Elvis magically changed appearance in a blink of an eye. To focus maximum attention on the singer, the staging is composed of only a blank white background on which the musicians in black and Elvis in white stand out, allowing the lighting technician to color the scene simply with gels on the spotlights: terribly simple, almost abstract, truly effective.

Elvis: That's the Way It Is is a splendid concert captured in a splendid manner. I am sure even Cary Grant, sitting in the audience and clearly sexually attracted to Presley, would approve.