Taurus

A viewer would be forgiven for wondering where the character of Cole in Tim Sutton’s Taurus ends and Colson Baker, AKA Machine Gun Kelly, begins. By the end of this unflinching look at an already troubled rap artist spiralling out of control, one rather hopes (but might not be fully convinced) that the man himself knows at least. A quick spot-the-difference check suggests it’s only his longer straggly blond locks (no doubt quite deliberately paying homage to Kurt Cobain) that mark any obvious distinction.

Following a whirlwind few days “in the life of” the protagonist as he closes out an exhausting tour, hops between invasive interviews and has collab sessions with various rappers, this is the rock’n’roll lifestyle with almost all the “cool” stripped out and only the drug dependency, self-obsession, isolation, boredom and anxiety left in. There are momentary glimpses of joy – the thrill of a no-holds-barred performance to an adoring crowd or the spark of musical inspiration in the recording studio (a standout moment is the hauntingly beautiful vocals he spontaneously elicits from an up-and-coming female artist) – but for every fleeting high there is far deeper, darker low. It’s the reality of life when the livestream ends and the star steps backstage, an existence exposed as anything but raucous fun, rather debilitating, slow-burn psychological torture.

Through an endless cycle of coke-snorting and pill-popping, Cole compulsively seeks oblivion and neglects all the women his life, from his ex (real-life girlfriend Megan Fox) to his daughter Rose (Avery Tiiu Essex) to his put-upon assistant, Ilana (played brilliantly as both hard-edged and aloof yet compassionate by Maddie Hasson). Conversely, he also craves love and connection, which he can only approximate in his meetings with prostitutes. He clings obsessively to a quartz crystal as though it’s the only solid, tangible thing he can touch and know is real. When Ilana gently leans in to hug Cole in a rare tender moment, we see a glimpse of a childlike vulnerability, desperate for nurture, that sits underneath his extrovert shell.

What Sutton leaves open to the audience is where accountability for his subject’s disintegration lies. While he acts despicably, Cole remains a sympathetic character, and it’s hard not to come away from the movie wondering whether the current structures of the music industry are doing enough to protect our young stars, who, propelled by a 24/7 social media machine, are thrust into a level of fame and scrutiny never seen before in record time. Are we all, as consumers of social media and music, also complicit? 

There’s no doubt there’s something endlessly watchable about Baker, his extreme height, gangly limbs, slender physique, tattoo-covered skin, flamboyant, glam-rock-inspired style and delicate, almost feminine facial features cutting such a striking figure, it’s hard to look away even when one wants to. Combined with a volatile energy, electric presence and singular musical talent, there’s no doubt he has that something special about him. But by the close of Taurus, one wonders if it’s a blessing or a curse. 

Baker first demonstrated his prowess in front of the camera with his scene-snatching turn as Tommy Lee in the underrated Mötley Crüe biopic The Dirt. But the frivolous, if chauvinistic ilk of debauchery in that film is long gone here; the rap artist seems to have channelled so much of his own life into this role, it’s either a form of onscreen therapy or a worryingly drawn-out trigger-fest.

Sarah Bradbury

Taurus does not have a UK release date yet.

Read more reviews from our Berlin Film Festival 2022 coverage here.

For further information about the event visit the Berlin Film Festival website here.