In the title track of Paul Simon’s 1986 record, he sang of “poor boys and pilgrims with families” headed toward a near-mystical place, one that exists more in imagination than in reality. Following “the river down the highway through the cradle of the civil war”, this was a journey from South to North, swimming against the current of the Great Migration, and headed back to what for many is hallowed ground.
At the age of 22, following his success after signing with RCA Records and releasing numerous smash hits, the young Elvis Presley tasked his parents with finding a suitable place to call home. His previous house in Memphis proper was often inundated by fans and hangers-on, so the dream of a kind of compound, a literal mansion on a hill protected by gates that kept out intruders and provided an oasis from the outside world, was found. And more than half a century later, the handsome home on what’s now Elvis Presley Boulevard still stands, greeting visitors around the world to enter the residence and experience a musical castle fit for a Rock ‘n Roll King.
My own journey down south was timed to celebrate the new documentary by Baz Luhrmann and Jonathan Redmond, as well as to commemorate what would have been Presley’s 91st birthday. “EPiC,” aka “Elvis Presley in Concert,” is a stunner, a brilliant film that centers on Presley’s own voice to tell his story. A documentation of his late-career residency in Las Vegas, as well as other ancillary tours, is based on footage that has long been stored in subterranean facilities, waiting for the perfect moment to be rediscovered. As part of the process of bringing the Oscar-winning “Elvis” to life, the non-fiction footage proved vital to Lurhmann’s team as both a reference and an inspiration.
I had already seen “EPiC” in ideal circumstances, attending the premiere with Lurhmann sitting directly behind. It was a joyous experience at Toronto’s Princess of Wales cinema, with people dancing in the aisles (along with Baz himself!) and treating the concert footage as if it were a live experience. However, the opportunity to enter into the almost sacred space of Graceland was too good to pass up, a journey that proved to be as memorable and impactful as one could have hoped for.
Within minutes of landing, I got into an Uber to the Graceland Hotel, a sprawling space built just a few steps away from where Elvis and his family called home. On the taxi drive, there I chatted with a Memphian named Victoria, a boisterous, African-American local with deep roots in the community. I asked her about her own connection to Presley’s legacy, and she admitted some hesitancy to speak her mind. As Chuck D famously intoned, for many, Elvis “never meant shit” to them, calling the musician a “straight up racist…simple and plain.” Just as Simon wrote of Graceland as an idea more than an actual place (tied, of course, to his exploration of South African musical expression), Public Enemy spoke of the whitewashing of Black musical culture by those who took more than they gave, with Elvis being an obvious, if inaccurate, exemplar.
We talked during our brief drive about how Presley’s legacy overwhelmed so many other giants of Memphis’ musical legacy, from B.B. King through to Howlin’ Wolf, and even Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, and the like. She admitted difficulty separating the commodification of his fame, especially in Memphis, from his actual musical accomplishments. Yet she admitted that in the music she found some joy, and recognized that being a pioneer for this kind of massive fame must have been a challenge, and that it was clear that from at least a musical perspective there was a level of both humility as well as admiration for the many tributaries of music form the era, from both black and white communities, that helped shaped his artistic legacy.
All this, and I hadn’t been in the state for more than half an hour!
A Visit To Presley’s Home And Resting Place
After a quick turnaround at the hotel (the flight had been delayed an anxiety-inducing 3 hours), we boarded a small shuttle for the mile or so to the gates of Graceland. We gathered in front of the house’s colonnade and were soon treated to a guided tour led by Angie Marchese, Vice President of Archives and Exhibitions for the Presley estate. Angie started as a simple tour guide more than thirty-five years ago, yet her passion for the place has lost none of its spark.
I was paired on the tour with a half-dozen influencers who had flown in from the U.K., and despite admonitions to avoid filming during the residency, they seemed incapable of resisting the urge to capture moments to sustain their social numbers. Distracted with taking photos of themselves alongside the kitschy, cluttered furnishings and accoutrements, I had the absolute pleasure of walking through the place guided by Marchese in almost a solo fashion. Tois was a truly extraordinary experience, and while her knowledge of the place is vast, she still presented its context without blind reverence, with the acuity of a museum worker and proper archivist rather than someone there to fully sugarcoat the past.
Christmas decorations were still on display during our early-January visit, featuring actual elements from the Presleys’ holiday festivities. The famous jungle room, where several recordings were conducted in his later years, still has the feeling of a mid-70s rumpus room. Downstairs, the billiard room, with the folded cloth covering the walls and ceiling, felt even more bizarre. Yet it was the yellow-walled entertainment room that most felt at home, complete with a turntable system that could be broadcast throughout the mansion. Three tube TVs were inset into the walls, allowing Presley to watch all three national broadcasters at once. A scattering of well-worn albums, in this case holiday selections, showed off some of his musical taste.
Entering the backyard, we passed the small office where his father, Vernon, worked, with a small structure attached that showcased a gun target. It was here that Presley and his friends would regularly shoot, and many of his guns and ancillary trappings of law enforcement were on display throughout the tour. This is one of the more reactionary aspects of his character that, for many, is a draw and for others appalling, but it’s certainly in keeping with much of his cultural heritage that worship weapons nearly as much as other, more overt expressions of faith.
A side section contained more museum artifacts, including his wallet that still contained a photo of a young Lisa-Marie. Furniture from the previous version of the home’s decorating style was on display, showing that in the years that he lived there, Graceland itself went through many transformations, from a more gaudy, florid, and European style through to the more ersatz 70’s aesthetic of its present form. Leaving this space, we passed the swimming pool, a place of joy shown in many of the home movies projected throughout the tour. Off to the side is a ring of stones, markers of Graves for Presley and the members of his family who have passed. His own tomb lies flat on the ground, the metal plaque bearing the inscription “living legend”. Opposite is the newly constructed grave for his daughter, who passed in 2023, lying opposite her dad in a place she too once called home.
It’s a somber end to the tour (“too much perspective”, as per David St. Hubbins), but one does get a sense of the scope of the place. Rather than feeling like a sterile compound broken off from the world, Graceland feels like a home, one that at the time would have been luxurious, certainly, but still in the scope of a place of joy for family and friends to embrace. The rolling hills, the horse barn, and even the stone walls themselves evoke a more pastoral sense of calm within the broiling tumult of fame, allowing a bit of respite for the man away from the screaming throngs. Yet it’s a far cry from being truly isolated – neighbouring homes are visible, and the main road to downtown Memphis makes the journey there relatively quick. So while this was surely to be seen as a country estate of sorts, it wasn’t so gratuitous in its size, or cloistered in its construction, to be much more than a handsome home for a tremendously successful artist.
Making Our Way Through The Museum
We spent the morning once again outside the mansion, gathered with hundreds of fans and local dignitaries in front of a giant birthday cake. After some brief speeches (including a dig at the local politicians for the appalling condition of the road that leads to the area), the crowd queued for a chance to pose in front of the confectionery.
Across the street from Graceland itself lies a far more sprawling construction, one home to many of Presley’s million-plus artifacts. On display here were dozens of his jumpsuits and other elements, specially curated by Marchese to help celebrate the release of the “EPiC” film. As visitors, we even got a chance to fondle one of Presley’s bejeweled belts, one that may make a championship boxer blush with its ostentation. Walls of gold records speak to the success of his music over decades, while in adjoining rooms, other benefits of his fame, including dozens of cars, motorcycles, and even customized golf carts, are on display for people around the world to experience.
We then gathered to hear a presentation from several individuals who shared the stage with Presley. Jerry Schilling was a core part of the so-called “Memphis Mafia,” the retinue of individuals who kept close to Presley throughout his career. Schilling would go on to manage the Beach Boys, but having spent time with Elvis from his pre-fame days through to his passing, he offered a unique perspective on the man behind the image.
A personal thrill was to hear from Jerry Scheff, the legendary bassist who spent years as part of the TCB band. Scheff’s credits include work with Billy Preston and Merry Clayton, and he played on the monster his “Along Comes Mary” back in ’66. His work as the session musician on The Doors’ “L.A. Woman” is exemplary, and his upright bass playing on the Monkees’ “Porpoise Song,” the stunning Goffin/King composition, is worthy of celebration in and of itself. Still sharp and charismatic, Scheff spoke about Presley’s pure musicianship, something the iconography often overshadows, and what the documentary does a remarkable job of highlighting.
Legendary Gospel singers Terry Blackwood and Jim Murray from the Imperials, as well as basso profundo Larry Strickland from The Stamps quartet, offered warm reminiscences of the time spent on stage, which are captured in Lurhmann’s doc. Tony Brown, one of the keyboard players for the late-period TCB Band who also played with The Stamps, had an immeasurable impact on Country music over decades, producing music for hundreds of artists, heading up multiple labels, and garnering more Grammys than even Presley himself. Showing up in a luxurious tracksuit with a giant shining cross around his neck, the man looked like an Al Pacino character, exuding all the moxie that one would expect from such a musical impresario.
The evening was then spent watching the film with many Presley fans in attendance. Introduced by Richmond and with a video message beamed in from Luhrmann’s native Australia, it was a treat to see the film a second time, even if the projection and sound weren’t quite up to the level of the TIFF debut. Soon to be showcased on IMAX screens around the world, I cannot wait for my third experience with the film to be even more impactful in a cinematic presentation.
A Little More Conversation
The next morning was spent more time at the museum, this time conducting interviews with Marchese and Redmond, surrounded by Presley’s artefacts. Standing in front of the famous Pink Cadillac (painted blue from the factory, for those interested in such trivia), Marchese was as warm and revealing as during our tour, her love of the place as infectious as can be. Already beloved by the community of Elvis fans, it’s clear that her tireless work is not simply to offer glowing reminders of Presley’s glories, but to provide both historical and musical context for his work. Her own mission, in many ways, mirrors what makes the documentary so special, and getting these days to spend with her and thrive on her knowledge and kindness was worth the voyage alone.
Redmond spoke at length about his partnership with Lurhmann, dating back to his work helping assemble the behind-the-scenes elements for “Moulin Rouge!” His decades-long journey from the initial cutting of sizzle reels through to the finished doc is quite extraordinary, and it’s fascinating that such a quiet, deliberately spoken man is partly responsible for some of the most maximalist and kinetically ambitious of musical and visual elements in cinema today.
After a brief trip to the parked planes that have rested outside for all these years (complete with an indescribable odoriferous “funk” baked in as a redolent reminder of their soaring heyday), I returned to the hotel, quickly packed up, and headed out for a Memphian journey before my flight home.
No trip for me would have been complete without visiting the famed Sun Studio, that hallowed place where the music first started. I made my own Mystery Train-like journey, side-stepping along the wall, and revelling in this space where legends got their start under the watchful eyes and impeccable ears of Sam Phillips. The guided tour included a fine breakdown of the place’s history and provided a much-needed reminder of the purity of those early years, when an acetate recording could change the world.
I then managed a detour I had hoped to take, heading to a very different area of Memphis to visit the Stax Museum of American Soul Music. It’s this music that speaks to my heart most, and it’s even more resonant personally, given that the recording studio itself was a converted movie theatre, complete with a marquee and a slanted floor that once held rows of chairs. It was here that Estelle Axton and her brother Jim Stewart founded the studio that recorded the likes of Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Rufus Thomas, and Issac Hayes. If Graceland and “EPiC” are a welcome reminder of the man behind the Presley myth, the Stax Museum is more of a celebration of the exemplary contributions that local talent made on the global stage. The famously multi-racial contributions of the house band Booker T. and the MGs have their musical DNA embedded in these walls, and the instruments used to record the legendary track “Green Onions” are respectfully encased in acrylic like the near-religious icons that they are.
Steve Cropper, guitarist and songwriter who contributed as much to Stax’s legendary status as any, passed shortly before my visit, and his name was prominently displayed on that iconic sign outside, normally marking this as the home of “Soulsville U.S.A.” There likely won’t be the kind of hoopla for Cropper, or Hayes, or any of the others that made this part of Memphis so special in anywhere near the magnitude of what Presley is afforded, and that’s some of what was discussed with Victoria back when I first arrived. Yet to cap off this visit with all of these elements – the ostentation of Presley’s costumes and cars, constrasted directly with the same level of excess scene with the likes of Hayes’ own shag-carpeted Cadillac, illustrated how what makes this particular part of the world so musically special was the very role of cross-cultural communication, where those with differing backgrounds who often shared similar hunger and financial struggles saw through music a way of reaching out far beyond the confines of this Southern city.
Leaving Graceland, I got the feeling that I’d come to know Presley in unexpected ways, and it’s impossible not to be wowed by what a terrific job they continue to do to keep his legacy alive, even as many of his traditional fans are aging out of interest. “EPiC” serves as a way to inject interest among younger generations, likely jaded about his contributions or simply ambivalent to performances from well before they were born. Lurhmann and Redmond’s work doesn’t just keep Elvis’ legacy alive for existing fans; it grabs the uninitiated by the wide collars and demands we listen, experiencing this person as a performer and a person, not simply an image on a postage stamp.
The same can be said for all those who recorded their ephemeral tunes at Phillip’s Sun studio, or the many who made Stax the sanctified place that it truly became. While touring that studio, I had a chance to be alone in that space where so many of the best songs of all time were recorded. I set up my phone in the acoustic sweet spot, started some tracks by Otis, the Mar Keys, the Staples, and others, and sat on the floor as the sound from those tiny speakers filled the room. It was there that I got to experience what drew me to this place in the first place, a fitting end to my own pilgrimage to a city that more than almost any birthed some of the most magnificent music ever crafted.
Are you excited to see “EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert?” Have you ever been to Graceland before? If so, what did you think? Will you be seeing Baz Luhrmann latest in theaters? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below or on our X account.
You can follow Jason and hear more of his thoughts on the Oscars & Film on X @filmfest_ca
