BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY.

That all the glitz and glamour of showbiz is ultimately shallow and unrewarding is a Hollywood trope that’s as old as the hills, from A Star is Born in 1937 to Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper’s version of the same film in 2018. Equally as hackneyed is the idea that redemption comes through qualities that can’t be bought, like loyalty, true friendship and love. Things become cliches for a reason: their universal truth can be recycled so often, that scenarios and situations that are actually authentic can appear corny.

Such is my case for the defence of Bohemian Rhapsody, the 2018 film that told the story of one-of-a-kind rock band Queen’s fabulously outrageous front man, Freddie Mercury. The story has tragedy built-in, as most people going in will know that Mercury died of AIDS in 1991, at the appallingly young age of 45. But, hell, what a life. I watched Bohemian Rhaspsody again last night and was struck by how much the film is about the good and bad in relationships, as it is about Queen mixing opera with popular music, or bassist John Deacon (Joseph Mazzello) writing the disco earworm ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.

It’s highly significant that, riding the crest of a wave of popularity with the love of his girlfriend Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton), Freddie says that he’s not scared of anything. Paired up with the toxic, controlling Paul Prenter (Allen Leech), he admits to Mary he’s “frightened”. The message is clear and simple: be happy and content in yourself and you’ll gravitate towards the people who are good for you. Have a negative state of mind and users will circle and pounce.

Paul actively gaslights Freddie, claiming to have told him about Live Aid when he didn’t. As Queen’s performance at the seminal 1985 event is pivotal to the film, in this version of Freddie’s life it’s the last straw. Freddie likens Paul to “Dirty little fruit flies, coming to feast on what’s left. There isn’t much left for you to feast on… Go fly off.” With that, Freddie turns his back on his abuser and walks away into the rain, cathartically… If only it was that easy to leave abusive relationships in real life.

The concept of family is key to Bohemian Rhapsody, either through blood or bonding. The other members of Queen – Brian May (Gwilym Lee), Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy) and John ‘Deaky’ Deacon – and Mary, although they sometimes clash with the flamboyant singer, always have Fred’s best interests at heart. As Mercury himself notes, families fight – but remain loyal.  Early on, Freddie’s father Bomi Bulsara (Ace Bhatti) chastises his son for not devoting his life to “good deeds”. The final reel rapprochement, in which son and father are reconciled over Queen’s contribution to Bob Geldof’s charity effort, raising money for starving Ethiopians, looks like Hollywood schmaltz at its schmaltziest. But, as someone who went through a similar experience with his own father can attest, the flipside of that is achingly true to life and incredibly moving.

It’s striking that there are practically no songs with negative sentiments in Queen’s catalogue. From ‘Killer Queen’ to ‘The Show Must Go On’ via ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’, they espoused empowerment, resilience and optimism. Ironically, their biggest hit, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, tells the bleak story of a confused young man who’s committed murder, while, on A Night at the Opera (1975), ‘Death on Two Legs’ finds Freddie at his bitchiest, tearing into Queen’s former manager, Norman Sheffield: “Misguided old mule with your pigheaded rules/With your narrow-minded cronies/Who are fools of the first division.” The song got the band into legal trouble with Sheffield, which may partly explain why they were so resolutely upbeat from then on. Whatever the case, Bohemian Rhapsody channels the exhilaration of Queen’s recorded output in every frame.

At one point, Freddie says Queen are going to punch a hole in the sky above Wembley Stadium at Live Aid. They truly did. I know because I saw them do it.