Not only does Egerton have Elton’s look and mannerisms down to an uncanny degree, he also musters up enough of his subject’s signature showmanship to give a performance that’s joyously at peace with its own preposterousness.

If there’s one thing Rocketman does have in common with Bohemian Rhapsody, it’s a commanding central performance.

A sequin-encrusted delight. On paper it reads like a by-the-book biopic; on screen it explodes with the kind of colour and energy that only Elton John himself could invoke.

It’s all grand and fun and corny, a musical fantasy that reaches for the sky and gets there often enough to make it diverting but also frustrating.

As a fantasia on the making of Elton John, Rocketman at the very least commits wholeheartedly to its flashy eccentricity, and for many, that will be more than fun enough.