The 12 best onscreen Elvis actors, ranked

Roger Ebert rightly called this 1988 Chris Columbus (yes, that Chris Columbus) movie, “awesomely bad, contrived, awkward and filled with unintentional laughs.” Then again, any film that imagines a circa 1972 Elvis as some avuncular figure who would help a high schooler whose mother is a huge fan and could use an emotional boost while recovering from an accident deserves such scorn. And David Keith, playing The King, does not come away unscathed. There’s the fact that he looks nothing like The King (a curse that afflicts many an Elvis casting). But mostly it’s that Keith is called to play an aggressively sanitized Elvis (he’s actually compared to “Ivory Soap suds”), given lines like “I didn’t do that for you. I did that for rock and roll.” Having been handed a wholly contradictory version of the “Heartbreak Hotel” singer, any and all choices Keith was forced to make end up doing actor and character alike a disservice. [Manuel Betancourt]

No list of music biopic performances would be complete without John C. Reilly’s skewering of such biopics. The satirical conceit of this Judd Apatow and Jake Kasdan film—the womb-to-tomb story of Reilly’s fictional Dewey Cox, rubbing shoulders with actual rock stars of the 1950s and beyond—enables screwball portrayals of those real-life musicians, putting authentic re-creation low on the priority list.

White is a bona fide rocker in his own specific lane, but like all who even dabble in that genre, he owes a debt to Presley’s legacy. So his brief depiction of The King begs the question: Where do an idiosyncratic contemporary musician and his groundbreaking predecessor overlap? White’s performance, though, is mostly an excuse for the filmmakers to do what Andy Kaufman and other Presley impersonators must do in the name of comedy: zero in on a couple mannerisms or factoids and exaggerate them with just the right level of irreverence. While the fact that White bears almost no resemblance to the man is hilarious, it also warrants a low placement on any roundup of Presley performances even though Dewey Cox wears its parody proudly on its sleeve. [Jack Smart]

A few years before his Miami Vice breakout, Johnson’s brimming star power blinded producers into miscasting him as Elvis in this TV movie chronicling his middle-aged romance with Stephanie Zimbalist’s virginal pageant queen Linda Thompson (who’d famously go on to become Mrs. Bruce Jenner and Mrs. David Foster). Gaining weight for the role, Johnson is downright buried in full-on, late-’70s Elvis drag. The high-collared jumpsuits, capes, sideburns, etc., (no matter how realistically appropriate) and the over-the-top accoutrements read more Elvis imitator than real deal. Johnson’s trademark rakish, swaggering charms still shine through, but are ill-fitted to Elvis’ iconic, low-key smolder or panther-like physicality, even in his bloated phase. There’s little attempt to match Elvis’ familiar cadences, and it’s downright jarring when Johnson’s nasal speaking voice segues into the dubbed-in singing in Presley’s lower register (provided, as in the Kurt Russell Elvis, by Ronnie McDowell). Yet if you can set aside the glaring disconnects, Johnson is still weirdly watchable—even occasionally moving during the inevitable slide into drug abuse—in this consistently cheesy but diverting sidenote in Elvis’ legendary life. [Scott Huver]

While Walk The Line is a biopic chronicling the rise of music legend Johnny Cash (played by Joaquin Phoenix), Presley does make an appearance in the film during the early stages of Cash’s career. The King is played here by Tyler Hilton, a singer and songwriter who released his debut album in 2004, a year before a feature acting debut as The King. (Hilton has since become best known for his role as Chris Keller in The CW’s One Tree Hill.) Elvis appears in only a few scenes in the movie, but they’re pivotal and important to the then-young and impressionable Johnny Cash. We’re first introduced to him in the recording booth and then later on stage performing “That’s Alright Mama,” where Hilton nails the singer’s voice, energy, and movements. Backstage, Elvis tells Cash he sounded good and offers him, of all things, some chili fries. In such a brief moment, Hilton manages to encapsulate the essence of young Presley without cheap impersonation. Through the remainder of Walk The Line, Elvis is either seen only briefly or referenced, such as when Cash is offered amphetamines and told that Elvis also takes them; this subtle moment intrinsically links the two in their stratospheric rise and subsequent substance abuse within the pressure of the midcentury music scene. [Brandon Kirby]

Michael Shannon isn’t necessarily the first actor one might think of to play The King. But 2016’s Elvis & Nixon, from director Liza Johnson, uses the performer’s steely intensity to wonderful counterbalancing effect in serving up a slyly comedic, speculative version of one of the oddest real-life episodes of Presley’s offstage career: his meeting with President Richard Nixon (played by Kevin Spacey) on December 21, 1970. Elvis & Nixon presents Presley here as vaguely concerned about “what’s going on in the streets,” but chiefly obsessed with obtaining a federal law enforcement badge, and the appropriated glory that would (in his mind) bestow. A big part of the film is about the moving parts of this unlikely encounter. But as Presley gleefully ignores dictated protocols (is it sly gamesmanship, entitled forgetfulness, or some combination of the two?), the meeting itself quickly turns into a mutual stroke session and bitch-fest about communists and left-wingers—and thus an engaging, amusing rumination on some of the psychological blindspots and downfalls of power and celebrity.

No singing is really indulged, but Shannon convincingly captures the softer parts of Presley’s vocal register. And in two captivating monologues—one about existing as an unseeable object, a physical stand-in for people’s recollections of their first kiss or other formative memories; another about the stillborn death of his twin brother, and bearing in life the lot for two people—Shannon delivers a soul-snapshot of The King’s swallowed, little-boy-lost hurt. [Brent Simon]

The premise for David Winkler’s 1998 flick Finding Graceland remains, all these years later, just as baffling: when Byron (Jonathon Schaech), a widower caught up in his own grief, picks up a hitchhiker on his way to Memphis who claims to be Elvis (years after the singer’s death), he finds his life forever changed. Yet, no matter how preposterous (or, more to the point, nakedly earnest) this buddy road drama may sound, Harvey Keitel’s performance as “Elvis” is a balm. Sure, as he’s told repeatedly, he may not look like The King, but Keitel grounds this role with his welcome, sly warmth. And yes, it helps that he’s called to play the charm and swagger of The King without needing to model it on the actual Elvis—for all we know, he’s just a self-delusional drifter brought into Byron’s life to help him heal. Keitel’s ability to keep us guessing (check the actor nailing a “Suspicious Minds” number that could slot him as either a capable impersonator or just, well, a deluded impersonator) is arguably the saving grace of this otherwise treacly affair. [Manuel Betancourt]

Priscilla, based on Priscilla Presley’s 1985 autobiography, Elvis And Me (this marks the second adaptation of the book following a television movie in 1988), explores a side of Elvis the public never saw. Since the production didn’t have the rights to Elvis’ musical catalog, the stage performances in Priscilla are sparse. Instead, the film focuses more on the man than the myth, through the lens of his relationship with the woman who became his wife and the mother of his daughter. We get to see what he was like behind closed doors, and it isn’t always a flattering portrait. Taller and leaner than Elvis ever was, Elordi makes up for what he lacks in physical resemblance with an intense, brooding charm that hides a vicious, controlling streak. From the moment he meets Priscilla as a shy 14-year-old girl living with her parents on a West German Air Force base, he pulls her, and the audience, into his orbit. And like a satellite, she’s stuck perpetually circling him, never coming any closer. Though he rules over every aspect of Priscilla’s existence—from her clothes and hairstyle to where she goes and who she sees—she stands by him for years. With the handsome, charismatic Elordi in the role, it’s not too hard to see why. [Cindy White]

In the late ’80s and early ’90s, conspiracy theories about Elvis being alive were the mainstay of supermarket tabloids, as well as a mail-order documentary hosted by Bill Bixby. It was a simpler time, when conspiracy theorists, rather than going down alt-right rabbit holes, spent their days wondering if Elvis had been abducted by aliens, or merely put in witness protection by the CIA. Joe R. Lansdale’s novella Bubba Ho-Tep springs from that well, part of a 1994 anthology of Elvis tales, and Don Coscarelli’s 2002 film remains the best cinematic incarnation of Tabloid Elvis. The notion that Presley switched places before his death with an impersonator named Sebastian Haff was once the stuff of cheesy Weekly World News fiction, but Bruce Campbell, under considerable old-age makeup, imbues him with real poignancy—even when he teams up with a now-black JFK (Ossie Davis) to save their retirement home from a cowboy mummy that’s going around sucking souls. As is common for Coscarelli films, an elaborate and absurd mythology taken seriously yields some compelling cross-genre material. And Campbell takes the job of playing “The King” (who may or may not actually be the real deal) more seriously than his broader, more familiar roles might have suggested, lamenting a world rapidly passing him by. [Luke Y. Thompson]

From Clarence Worley’s gold-rimmed sunglasses to the live-fast-die-young ethos that he and Alabama are desperately trying to outrun, the spirit of Elvis oozes out of every frame of Tony Scott’s 1993 Quentin Tarantino adaptation. But as one of the best of the film’s murderer’s row of cameos, Val Kilmer plays an imaginary specter of The King, advising young Clarence as he navigates a world of new brides, menacing Italian mobsters, and the most dangerous place in the world, Hollywood. Keeping Kilmer largely in the periphery of each frame in which he appears, Scott aims to recapture a mind’s-eye visage of Presley more so than his actual personality. But the actor amplifies those broad strokes into something truly mythic, not just as the singer is discussing “cops throwing a fuckin’ party” after Clarence murders Alabama’s former pimp, but as the Jiminy Cricket (or probably more accurately, Goodfellas’ Jimmy Conway)-like conscience to a kid fit to burst with so many movie and music references that the only one capable of cutting through the clutter is perhaps the most important pop culture figure of the 20th century. That he does a surprisingly convincing version of “Heartbreak Hotel” feels like icing on a very sweet cake. [Todd Gilchrist]

Regardless of the critical consensus around Baz Luhrmann’s new film Elvis, and the as-always necessary conversations around what Presley’s legacy means to us in 2022, it’s a “star is born” moment for Austin Butler. Known previously only for his work as Tex Watson in Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, Butler has the kind of looks that make a breakout star turn feel inevitable; you get the sense casting directors see his long face and piercing eyes and hope desperately that he has the charisma to match his beauty. As Elvis proves, he absolutely does—despite the movie’s determination to dress Presley’s story in every manner of maximalist flair. As The A.V. Club observed in its review, Butler threatens to be outshined by the very filmmaker trying, among many other things, to anoint the actor with stardom. If you squint through Luhrmann’s deluge of distractions, you’ll see a decent re-creation of the King’s mannerisms and a vibrant channeling of his spirit—take the first moment the film actually, when a pink-suited Presley realizes the power of his hip gyrations. Butler brilliantly conveys the real-time discovery of an artist’s sensibilities aligning with an audience’s, which, ultimately, was the guy’s whole deal. [Jack Smart]

In the first high-class attempt at a Presley biopic—airing on TV just a year and a half after the icon’s death—Russell, then transitioning from child- and teen-stardom into serious adult roles, set a high bar for all that followed. Imitations of Elvis’ distinctive speaking style are common today, but at the time Russell’s work keenly captured the King’s inflections, and matched the dubbed musical vocals of uncanny Presley soundalike Ronnie McDowell. The actor’s natural athleticism allowed him to execute hip-swiveling dance moves with verve and grace, while delivering a convincing, nuanced expression of Elvis’ emotional life—his quirky humor, mercurial moods, and up-and-down romance with Priscilla (played by Season Hubley, whom Russell briefly married). Indeed, there’s much immersive synchronicity at work: as a child Russell once appeared opposite Elvis on screen; his dad Bing plays Presley patriarch Vernon; and Vernon himself lent Russell one of Elvis’ Vegas-era jumpsuits to wear during filming. The film also marked the first collaboration between Russell and director John Carpenter—they’d go on to make four more movies together—and along with establishing an Emmy-nominated Russell as an A-list talent with a vibrant career ahead of him, instantly set the gold standard of Presley performances. [Scott Huver]

Easily the most critically acclaimed of the Elvis biopic canon, this miniseries earned Rhys-Meyers a Golden Globe Award and an Emmy nomination for his searing portrayal. Those feats are magnified by the fact that the Irish (!) actor sidestepped the superficial minutiae and instead drilled down on channeling the essence of The King. He was aided and abetted by a soundtrack populated with Elvis’ own musical vocals—the first time the authentic catalog was authorized for such a project—even if the lip-synching is less than perfect. The actor’s Method approach included staying in character throughout the shoot, wearing Elvis’ preferred aftershave and wardrobe from the singer’s favored Memphis clothier, and pumping himself up before scenes by listening to Elvis songs. Rhys-Meyers evokes Presley’s hypnotic intensity and raw carnality better than most screen Kings (though he’s not quite as pretty or physically imposing as Presley). Aside from some rollicking early career scenes, he eschews the proto-rock star’s lighter, more playful aspects in favor of a more tortured vein: tortured in his responsibility to anxious mother Gladys, a tortured romance with too-young Priscilla, tortured over his profitable but artistically stunted film career, tortured by his troubling drug use, etc. Sexy angst is a Rhys-Meyers specialty, as he ably demonstrates here, and despite the oft-gloomy proceedings, his highly effective performance has marked his take as many fans’ favorite Elvis interpretation. [Scott Huver]

While our round-up of onscreen Elvises is by no means a comprehensive catalog, honorable mention must go to the following: Disney’s animated classic Lilo And Stitch found ways to honor Presley’s love for Hawaii in the unlikely form of alien Stitch (voiced by Chris Sanders); both Nicolas Cage and an adorable six-year-old Bruno Mars delivered nods to The King’s natural habitat in Honeymoon In Vegas; Jack Black was a match made in heaven with Drunk History’s retelling of Presley’s meeting with Nixon; and Andy Kaufman, on late-night shows like Johnny Carson’s and Saturday Night Live, provided the thoroughly entertaining gold standard of spot-on Elvis parody. [Jack Smart]