The current cinematic landscape is witnessing an extraordinary renaissance of the Hollywood biographical drama, commonly referred to as a biopic, a term that can sometimes evoke the imagery of a dental instrument. Christopher Nolan’s monumental three-hour epic, “Oppenheimer,” exploring the life of the atomic bomb’s architect, has not only demonstrated that biographical films can be as expansive and dazzling as the cosmos but has also earned Nolan unparalleled acclaim. Sofia Coppola’s “Priscilla,” narrating the journey of Priscilla Presley from her teenage encounter with Elvis to her years entwined with a fading illusion, has captivated audiences and garnered widespread praise. In Bradley Cooper’s “Maestro,” the intricate tale of Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre unfolds as a profound exploration of love, sexuality, bigotry, creativity, and the enigmatic complexities of marriage. Michael Mann’s forthcoming drama, “Ferrari,” promises a cinematic experience akin to the fusion of “Grand Prix” and “The Godfather.”
These cinematic offerings are not only contenders for prestigious awards but, in their distinctive ways, utterly enthralling. This resurgence marks a pinnacle in the influence of a genre that never truly disappeared but is currently experiencing unprecedented prominence. However, the question arises: Why the resurgence of the biopic, and why now?
It’s essential to acknowledge that the biopic was once deemed a somewhat cheesy and second-rate form. During the studio system era, productions like “Freud,” “Lust for Life,” and “Man of a Thousand Faces” carried an inherent melodramatic kitsch, relegating biopics to the realm of subpar TV movies. The attempt to encapsulate a notable life within a two-hour timeframe, with high and low points strung together with operatic flamboyance, often resulted in a glossed-over Hollywood portrayal. This approach conveniently omitted the darker aspects of the characters in focus.
Although there were a few commendable biopics in the ’70s and ’80s, such as “Coal Miner’s Daughter,” “Gandhi,” and “Sweet Dreams,” the genre truly flourished in the mid-2000s, spurred by a biopic revolution propelled by two intertwining trends.
In 2004, films like “Ray” and “Kinsey” demonstrated that biopics reached new heights when candidly portraying the flaws of their protagonists, adopting a warts-and-all approach. The subsequent year, “Capote” introduced a groundbreaking concept: the most effective way to narrate someone’s life wasn’t to encompass the entirety but to focus on a specific chapter, episode, or crucial facet. This departure from encyclopedic chronology allowed for a portrayal rich in detail and close-up psychological nuance.
The modern biopic, characterized by its more focused and exploratory nature, found representation in films like “Milk,” “Lincoln,” and “Love & Mercy.” The quartet of 2023 biographical dramas follows this trend, limiting their scope to achieve epic impact.
Beyond formal considerations, the potency of these new biopics lies in the transformation of our all-encompassing celebrity culture. It has evolved from mere gossip to a self-sustained mythology. Instead of seeking reflections of ourselves in fictional characters, we increasingly turn to historical figures, viewing them as embodiments of our inner narratives. The authenticity of these figures, even as movies turn them into characters, resonates with audiences, infusing cinema with a palpable sense of reality. The resurgence of the biopic is a testament to its ability to imbue the screen with the heartbeat of reality, a quality in short supply in contemporary cinema.
