DVD Review: Elvis: The Ed Sullivan Shows - Page 2

Charles Laughton emceed that night in September, and he treated the entire affair with the British aplomb one would expect from Captain Bligh on a good day. He recited bad poetry, better limericks, and generally waltzed gracefully around the entire proceedings of that evening. He was subbing for Sullivan, who was recovering from an auto accident, and he worked the moment for all it was worth, even teasing the television audience about the significance of a Gold Record, sandwiched between acrobats and Mercury commercials.

Elvis wasn't in the New York studio that night. He was in the big El Lay, shooting his debut movie Love Me Tender. The Sullivan audience in New York, like the rest of America - at least 72 million glued to their sets at home - had to settle for a remote performance. It didn't matter — this was Elvis, and that was all that mattered.

His movie debut was still two months away, and the single "Love Me Tender" hadn't been released yet. Elvis debuted it that night, after priming the audience with his major hit of the time, "Don't Be Cruel." It was understated at best. But when he closed the program with his band now visible in the performance, hips shaking as he belted out Little Richard's "Ready Teddy" and sliding right into "Hound Dog", it was obvious that America had been slapped into a new phase of popular culture, and that anything that followed would have to be marked as a "post-Elvis world."

The mythology machine had been revved up, and Elvis was the fuel that powered it. But Colonel Parker and Ed Sullivan were piloting that machine, and all the surrounding PR and media frenzy were rocketing Elvis to a celebrity Olympus that eclipsed even Sinatra. On 28 October 1956, Elvis returned to The Ed Sullivan Show, live and in New York, face to face with the undisputed ratings king of prime time TV himself, the recuperated Ed Sullivan. After an opening act by the Little Gaelic Singers, and the obligatory Big M '57 Mercury commercial, Elvis came out swinging, relaxed, like a champ, with his band in full view, backing him as he launched into a much more vital version of "Don't Be Cruel," deftly changing the tempo to a vibrant rendition of "Love Me Tender."

If there had been any doubt before, Elvis lay claim to the hitherto unclaimed crown of rock and roll to the unbelievers of mainstream America. He had usurped the consciousness, enough so that he was burned in effigy in some towns that clung to the past. It didn't matter. The post-Elvis world had arrived.

Article Author: Ray Ellis

Ray Ellis is a freelance writer who has been dissecting pop culture and its effect on how we view ourselves for over twenty years, ruffling feathers and dragging unsuspecting pedestrians along for the ride whenever possible.

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