Dexter Fletcher may well be the new Ken Russell. In Bohemian Rhapsody, and now in Rocketman, he reveals a taste for overheated theatricality that hasn’t been seen since Russell turned Franz Liszt into a teen idol. The difference is that this much-anticipated biopic of Elton John never departs too far from formula, no matter how extravagant the song and dance routines.

Considering the almost unbearable self-indulgence of Russell’s movies, one may be thankful Fletcher prefers to alternate kitchen-sink drama with full-blown excess. He has given us a schematic diagram of his subject’s life that isn’t deep, and probably contains more fiction than fact, but for millions of fans it will push all the right buttons.