It’s easy to criticize the new Queen biopic Bohemian Rhapsody for some of the same reasons that, back in the day, it was easy to criticize Queen’s music. Led by the outsized personality of frontman Freddie Mercury, Queen made tunes that were alternately bombastic, goofy, shallow and theatrical. Queen’s work was eccentric, but it was also irresistible. In the same way, Bohemian Rhapsody triggers all sorts of alarms from a critical perspective, but it, too, is irresistible in terms of eliciting a pleasurable reaction from the audience.

Setting aside the well-known drama that occurred behind the scenes of the picture, let’s focus on the dense screenplay, credited to Anthony McCarten. His script mostly follows the rags-to-riches template; portraying Freddie as a dreamer who co-opts an existing band as a vessel for his musical vision, eventually forming lifelong friendships in the process. Yet within the rigid parameters of that template, certain elements are executed with noteworthy skill.

Don’t stop me now

When the film introduces young Farrokh Bulsara (the man who later adopts the stage name Freddie Mercury), he’s a sexually-ambiguous young immigrant living in London and working as a baggage handler at Heathrow Airport. Immediately, the film establishes Farrokh (played by Rami Malek) as a daydreamer preoccupied with fantasies of greatness, so by the time we see him at a club gig by his favorite local band, Smile, we know that Farrokh considers himself destined for a glamorous life as an entertainer.

Even though the meet cute between future bandmates is a standard scene in musical biopics, the sequence in Bohemian Rhapsody that serves this purpose is thoroughly entertaining. Unaware that the band’s lead singer quit right after the performance, Farrokh presents himself to guitarist Brian May (Gwilym Lee) and drummer Roger Taylor (Ben Hardy) as a possible songwriter. When told the band actually needs a vocalist, Freddie spontaneously belts out one of the group’s lyrics, inspiring Brian and Roger to harmonize. Naturally, the voices fit together perfectly, so Farrokh struts away with the line, “I’ll consider your offer,” even though no such offer has been presented.

Ambition is a fascinating quality to watch on film. In this case, The Man Who Will Be Freddie seems desperate for someone else to acknowledge the natural gifts that inspire his self-confidence. This nuance connects not because we all dream of becoming stars, but because we all long to be seen for who we believe ourselves to be. Watching Brian and Roger discover Freddie’s talent is uplifting because it says something about hope and luck, opportunity and promise.

Takeaway: Characters with big dreams are compelling

Is this the world we created?

The second act of Bohemian Rhapsody follows familiar rock movie patterns, albeit with some idiosyncratic specifics courtesy of the band’s offbeat history. Standard stuff includes the rise to fame; the defiance of small-minded label executives, the growing relationship with live audiences, the pernicious influence of self-serving managers, and the troubles of drug abuse. McCarten largely relegates the other members of Queen to minor supporting roles, focusing on Freddie’s ascent to rock-god status, his subsequent descent to strung-out despair, and finally Freddie’s grasp at redemption once death looms.

On paper, this is all quite dull and trite, though every so often, the storyline of Bohemian Rhapsody springs to life with something strange; as when Freddie leads the band through bizarre recording sessions for the operatic song that gives the film its name. Yet the picture’s secondary through line, and really the soul of the movie, is what makes slogging through predictable arcs bearable. McCarten suggests that the driving force of Freddie’s life was loneliness so bone-deep it manifested as self-loathing, and that Freddie’s diva-like behavior was a mask hiding profound sadness.

While this, too, is well-worn terrain, engagement with the topic of Freddie’s sexuality adds a necessary level of specificity and dramatic tension. In the first act, viewers get a sense of Freddie suppressing his attraction to men while gamely trying to make marriage to his best friend, Mary Austin (Lucy Boynton), work. In the second act, Freddie indulges himself, taking risks with his health while also humiliating the long-suffering Mary. Only in the final act does Freddie truly accept his own identity.

From a screenwriting perspective, what matters here is that McCarten and his collaborators correctly determined that even though the tribulations of a successful rock band aren’t that interesting — it’s hard for any of us to sympathize with complaints about too much fame or too much money — the struggles of one individual who happens to be in a rock band can be extraordinarily interesting.

Takeaway: When writing about icons, bring them down to earth

Who wants to live forever?

It’s giving nothing away to reveal that the final act of Bohemian Rhapsody is informed by Freddie’s AIDS diagnosis, since in real life he died of AIDS-related complications in 1991 at the age of 45. Anyone looking for a tough depiction of the grim road that Freddie traveled in his final years will be disappointed by Bohemian Rhapsody, which is a celebration of life rather than a meditation on death. Yet mortality, meaning the idea of death rather than the ugly details, permeates the triumphant final sequence of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Rock fans generally concur that Queen’s spectacular 20-minute performance at Live Aid in 1985 was not only the highlight of that legendary day-long concert, but also the peak of Queen’s career as a concert attraction. Although many triumphs preceded Live Aid and a few more followed, delivering a flawless set that captivated a viewing audience estimated at 1.5 billion people was a historical milestone. Bohemian Rhapsody frames this moment in a new way.

Thanks to considerable creative license, McCarten’s script suggests that the offer to play Live Aid occurred at a moment when Freddie was estranged from his bandmates, and that Freddie received his fatal diagnosis just before he sought reconciliation with Queen in order to play Live Aid. Very little of this is true to the facts of Freddie’s life, but it makes for good storytelling — when Freddie takes the stage at London’s Wembley Stadium during Live Aid, he’s determined to give the performance of his life because he doesn’t know how much life he has left. This context, together with the filmmakers’ impeccable re-creation of Live Aid, makes the sequence both moving and thrilling.

If the theme defining the first act of Bohemian Rhapsody is that Freddie wants to be seen, then the picture’s finale fulfills that desire utterly. Is it deceptive on the filmmakers’ part to bend facts in order to achieve this narrative goal? No more so than replacing “Farrokh Bulsara” with “Freddie Mercury.” When telling a story about a showman, a little showmanship seems wholly appropriate.

Takeaway: Embellishment is often acceptable if it’s in the service of theme