Bohemian Rhapsody:
Mercury’s Trial with an Unforgiving God and
Merciless Society
Bo Lundqvist
Dr. Giovanna Fogli
6/9/2012
Bohemian Rhapsody: Mercury’s Trial with an Unforgiving God and Merciless Society
On October 31, 1975, Queen released their groundbreaking single “Bohemian Rhapsody” to the
general public, a month before it would be featured as a part of their critically acclaimed album “A Night
at the Opera.” Though record companies predicted that a six minute song would never become popular
in a world of three minute hits, “Bohemian Rhapsody” quickly hit number one on the British Singles
Charts and remained there for nine weeks. 1 Beyond shattering record companies’ provincial perception
of popular music, “Bohemian Rhapsody” also shattered the “rules” of rock music, as Freddie Mercury
drew heavily on opera influence in order to write and compose what is considered a true work of
musical art. The powerful operatic rock ballad deviates far from a typical 70s pop song; it substitutes
commonplace cyclic verses and chorus for the form of an operatic ballad, a risky move which amounts
to trading guaranteed popularity for musical substance and meaning.
Such a trade-off certainly
indicates a kind of unique connection between the song and its writer—that the song was not an
attempt at quick fame and money, but rather a message near to the writer’s own heart. In an interview
after the song’s release, Mercury noted that, of all Queen’s songs, those he wrote were always the most
emotional, and, when looking at Mercury’s life, it becomes clear where the emotional inspiration for his
musical genius was developed (Classic Albums: Queen: The Making of A Night at the Opera).
Throughout his life, Mercury endured a constant identity struggle, both attempting to find his place in
society and battling against the moral condemnation of homosexuality, which was particularly
prominent in the 1970s. In this way, the intense spiritual and emotionally charged conflict presented
through the lyrics and musical composition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” directly parallels Mercury’s
struggle to preserve his identity against an unreasonably judgmental society and divinity.
As evidenced by his childhood, name change, and the homophobia of 1975, Mercury’s struggle
is certainly a deeply-rooted identity crisis; despite an internal belief indicating nothing wrong with
1
Due to its musical complexity, “Bohemian Rhapsody” also took over three weeks to record, which heavily
contributed to making “A Night at the Opera” the most expensive album of its time.
homosexuality and a flamboyant lifestyle, Mercury was deeply affected by the unfair condemnations
from society towards bohemians, especially those made on religious grounds. Mercury was born in
1946 in a village in Zanzibar under the name of Farrokh Bulsara. In an interview for a documentary titled
“Freddie Mercury: The Untold Story,” his mother Jer Bulsara noted that the young Farrokh would
constantly look through western magazines, studying the latest fashions and dreaming of a life in the
western world. Already when he was young, Bulsara desired to live in a different society—one more in
tune with his interests and tastes. When he was eight, Bulsara was sent to a boarding school in India, in
order to achieve a greater education; however, such early separation and independence from his family
could only have sparked a greater degree of cultural shock and anxiety from a boy who already
struggled to feel “at home” in his own house in Zanzibar. Though there were certainly negative aspects
of the move, the boarding school also provided Bulsara with his escape from reality—his stage
persona—which developed as he put his piano training to use in a band called The Hectics. 2 Many of his
classmates noted that Freddie seemed so alive and comfortable on stage, contrary to his otherwise very
shy and reserved personality. 3 His stage presence as it developed through the years, truly that of a rock
legend, became his way of compromising the expectations of society with his unique identity, which, on
its own, would have left him very vulnerable to the criticism of a generally homophobic society. Shortly
after becoming the lead singer of the band Smile, which featured Brian May and Roger Taylor, he
suggested they change the band name to Queen, simultaneously embracing and combating the stigma
of homosexuality with nobility and royalty. 4 After recording their first album, Bulsara officially changed
his name to Freddie Mercury, titling his stage persona and officially accepting what had become his way
2
In addition to the general culture shock of the move, in 1962, Bulsara wrote a letter to his family in which he
recorded “a great injustice”—he had been teased due to his buck teeth and framed in front of the principal.
(Freddie Mercury: The Untold Story)
3
He changed his name to Freddie shortly after arriving at boarding school.
4
According to polling done in 1973, 1974, 1976, and 1977, approximately 70% of the American population
believed homosexuality to be morally wrong (Glenn and Weaver). Though Mercury was living in Britain at the
time, this homophobic attitude was by no means isolated to the states and was certainly present in Europe as well.
of compromising his hidden identity with society’s expectations. This chronic identity crisis, as well as all
the emotions derived from it, is at the center of Mercury’s struggle as presented in “Bohemian
Rhapsody.”
The crown jewel of Queen’s 1975 album “A Night at the Opera,” “Bohemian Rhapsody” truly
gives physical form to Mercury’s emotional struggle, playing out the story of a “poor boy” distanced
from society and religiously condemned by his own extreme and bohemian identity. Most notable
perhaps, in comparison to other songs of the decade, as well as music in general, is that “Bohemian
Rhapsody” is strictly acyclic—that is, it does not follow an alternating verse and chorus structure.
Instead, the song pieces together very different pieces to form a sort of story, reminiscent of an operatic
narrative and true to its titular description as a rhapsody. It begins with an intro equivalent of a literary
exposition or an overture in opera (McLeod 192). It follows up with two verses, paramount to a
confession of sins to a worldly figure, and then transitions to a very operatic portion, reminiscent of a
divine trial—the song’s climax. The operatic portion is followed by a rebellious hard rock section, which
then leads to the Outro, a musical denouement and resolution. The title itself speaks a lot to the
purpose of the song; the word “bohemian” as applied to people refers to those who do not fit in the
social norm, which became synonymous with “deviant” in the 1970s. “Rhapsody,” of course, refers to
the song’s composition, a mixture of styles as varied as opera and rock, a dichotomy nearly as drastic as
Mercury’s own dual persona. 5 All these elements blend together to give a fantastic insight into
Mercury’s struggle against man and God, defined by the operatic story played out within the song.
The intro of “Bohemian Rhapsody” serves to introduce the setting and emotional, personal
conflict of the central character, represented by Mercury’s voice, as well as to introduce the role of
divinity in the struggle. It begins with choral A Capella, surreal voices asking “Is this the real life, is this
just fantasy?” If these voices are attributed to the narrator’s conscience, then the listener is left to
5
Though Bulsara was shy and reserved by nature, his stage persona, Mercury, was flamboyant and fearless. The
extreme development of his stage persona likely revolved around his attempt to fit into society.
realize that the narrator has already been severely distanced from the “real world.” 6 These
interrogative lines, questioning the world around him, quickly establish a feeling of disbelief, reflecting
Mercury’s bewilderment at the cruel judgment of society on the lifestyle of the bohemians, particularly
homosexuals. The following lines “Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality,” emphasize the
narrator’s overwhelming emotions and acknowledge that they cannot be subdued.
Rooting this
admission back to Mercury’s life, it would seem that Bulsara’s stage persona has failed him—although
the mask of Freddie Mercury has given him much freedom, he is still deeply troubled by a complicated
emotional struggle. Mercury’s conscience then offers a solution: “Open your eyes, look up to the skies
and see.” When society has rejected him, Mercury’s conscience identifies that his only remaining option
is to look to heaven and God for help, in hopes of finding forgiveness for his sacrifice of identity and
reconciliation for his homosexuality. Mercury seems to reject this idea, however, and comes in solo,
giving voice to the narrator, self defining himself with the lines “I’m just a poor boy, I need no
sympathy.” Though it is clear that he is need of sympathy from someone, Mercury claims that he does
not need God’s forgiveness, defensively illustrating that he feels he has not sinned by being true to his
identity. In the background, the choral voices of his conscience repeat “poor boy,” emphasizing
Mercury’s self-definition, an emotional self-esteem issue, no longer masked by his stage persona. 7 The
chorus continues the narrator’s characterization—“because I’m easy come, easy go, little high, little
low”—a juxtaposition deeply reflects Mercury’s dual identity, as well as his fluctuating emotions. The
narrator and the chorus then join together to claim that “Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter
to me,” a strange statement from a man so deeply affected by the workings and judgments of society.
6
The surreal quality of the Intro seems to indicate the chorus as one of two potential characters: a host of angels
or Mercury’s (the narrator’s) conscience. After listening to the operatic section of the song, it becomes clear that
the voice of the angels is not the same as that presented in the Intro. Therefore, it is logical to attribute the
chorus’ collective voice to Mercury’s conscience.
7
It is important to note that, in this exposition, Mercury is thinking to himself—there is no audience to perform
for; he is exposed and vulnerable, his true colors showing and the shy and reserved Bulsara shining through.
The last “to me” hangs in the air until the narrator repeats it alone, marking both the entrance of the
piano and the transition to the narrator’s confessional lamentation.
Despite Mercury pushing aside the notion of divine forgiveness, Verse One is very reminiscent of
a confession of sins; however, Mercury’s apostrophe is not to God, but rather to an earthly figure,
showing his rejection of the divine over the mundane, perhaps associating God with those who have
already labeled and rejected him from society. 8 Verse One begins with “limping, broken arpeggios,”
establishing a sense of Mercury’s remorse and regret without a single lyric (McLeod 192). Music scholar
Ken McLeod, specializing in the assimilation of rock and opera music, suggests that this verse, together
with the Intro, functions as an aria would in opera, establishing the character within a particular world.
This is an accurate analysis—as the narrator’s confession progresses, the listener develops insight into
his character and struggle and begins to understand his distance from the world portrayed in the Intro.
As opposed to a typical confession made to some divinity, the subject of Mercury’s apostrophe,
“Mama,” roots him in the physical world. Whether “Mama” is actually his mother or another close
female figure, he is sharing his guilt with a person who is close to him, rather than what he seems to
consider a very distant, unforgiving divinity. 9 The narrator goes on to confess his sin—he “just killed a
man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead.” Although Mercury is using thirdperson pronouns, the lyrics evoke a feeling of suicide, as if the man metaphorically or literally being
murdered is, in fact, himself. As he continues “Mama, life had just begun, but now I’ve gone and thrown
it all away,” it becomes clear that it is his own life that has been wasted, the diction of remorse
becoming particularly prominent in the lyrics.10 At this point, the drums begin in the background,
8
Note that Mercury’s rejection of the divine is not equivalent to Atheism. He evidently believes in the existence of
a God, but refuses to accept the terms of His religion and His sympathy for the reasons already stated.
9
There is substantial evidence pointing towards the idea that the female figure addressed is Mary Austin, a girl
Mercury loved and lived with for six years. In 1975, Mercury was involved in a homosexual affair, which definitely
put a strain on his relationship to Mary and added guilt to his list of complex emotions.
10
Whether or not the narrator has committed suicide at this point is slightly ambiguous. However, a reading of
these lyrics as masochistic, with the narrator still alive, is more in line with the lyrics which follow in Verse Two.
almost as if beginning a march—a journey toward the final judgment. Mercury repeats “Mama, ooo,”
and then consoles the sympathetic female that he “didn’t mean to make [her] cry,” and that “if [he’s]
not back again this time tomorrow,” she should “carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters.” This
series of lines portrays two very important characterizations of the story’s narrator: he is taking full
responsibility for his sins (he does not cast the blame on anyone else and wishes for everyone to carry
on while he meets his fate) and that his death and potential condemnation truly do upset him. The
subtle word choice in his statement “carry on, as if nothing really matters,” though slightly nihilistic on
the surface, actually shows how much his life matters to him. The word “if” alone demonstrates that he
does in fact care about his own life and its influence on other and the repetition of the phrase “nothing
really matters” becomes less and less convincing as he repeats it throughout the song. The constant
repetition seems as if the narrator wants himself to believe the phrase to make his fall easier, but,
mentally, he is unable to accept that his life could be worthless, hence the need for the repetition.
Considering the complexity of Mercury’s masterpiece, it is absolutely crucial to interpret the
song as an operatic narrative, playing out a story through its various parts as a play tells a story through
its various acts. The choice of an operatic narrative for the song’s composition becomes the crux to a
complete analysis of the song and its meaning. Unfortunately, this context had been ignored by a
number of music and literary critics, causing some to write the song off as entirely nihilistic and others
to simply label it as a sexual double entendre, entirely ignoring the progression of Mercury’s emotional
struggle, in an attempt to paint the song as some kind of sexual catharsis. A group of literary critics at
Oxford University attempted to analyze the song’s meaning solely through its lyrics, focusing mainly on
its repetition of “anywhere the wind blows” and “nothing really matters,” and therefore coming to the
conclusion that the song was more or less a nihilistic statement (The Story of Bohemian Rhapsody).
However, the repetition is in itself significant, especially with consideration to the song as an operatic
story, where the singer plays the role of an actual character, instead of simply a medium for expressing
the song. In verse two, Mercury says “I don’t want to die” and “I sometimes wish I’d never been born at
all,” two phrases which do not seem to fit with the nihilistic view of life. It would seem then that
Mercury’s supposedly nihilistic statements are not statements on their own, but, rather lines in a play or
opera, serving a purpose, in this case, trying to convince himself that his death is not really important to
him. However, due to the repetition, it becomes clear to the listener, that narrator cares very much
about his own life and truly does not want to die. Such an oversight of setting and character is not
isolated to these Oxford critics however; music critic Judith Peraino writes in her Listening to the Sirens:
Musical Technologies of Queer Identity from Homer to Hedwig that the use of “Mama” throughout verse
one “invites an Oedipal reading, in which the son has killed the father out of desire for the mother”
(Peraino 231). This reading, however, eliminates the emotional struggle Mercury portrays throughout
the song, substituting emotional substance for complete sexual desire.
Once again, the idea of
“Bohemian Rhapsody” as an operatic story, truly crucial to understand the song, is ignored. The imagery
of suicide evoked in Verse One implies harm to the narrator as opposed to homicide or physical harm to
some father figure. Additionally, the concern and empathy with which the narrator addresses the
female figure evokes much more a feeling of understanding and trust than sexual desire. Oxford’s and
Peraino’s analyses unfortunately betray the complexity of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and serve to diminish
its emotional value by ignoring its context in Mercury’s life and structure as an operatic story.
As Verse Two begins, Mercury continues to employ the confessional tone of Verse One but now
shifts his focus to the emotional pain of the narrator’s choices, so far as to evoke the image of the
narrator lying on his death bed, as the continued drums and reappearance of his choral conscience
usher him to his trial and judgment in heaven. The narrator begins with the phrase “too late, my time
has come,” indicating that the decisions made by the narrator have brought him to a point of no
return—his judgment grows near and he cannot avert his fate. He then recounts his physical suffering—
“sends shivers down my spine, body’s aching all the time.” 11 Beyond simply functioning as imagery, this
phrase indicates that the narrator has not committed suicide, but is living in terrible pain, the marching
drums bringing him ever closer to his hour of judgment. The narrator then bids “goodbye everybody,
I’ve got to go, gotta leave you all behind and face the truth,” directly alluding to the divine judgment—
the truth—that awaits him after death. He then bids a final farewell to his sympathetic “Mama,” as his
conscience returns, repeating the line “anyway the wind blows,” as if beckoning him to his divine trial.
With one final burst of vocal energy, the narrator cries “I don’t wanna die, I sometimes wish I’d never
been born at all,” a powerful statement which truly reflects the intensity of the emotional damage done
to those affected by the great discrimination against bohemians.
A guitar solo and chromatic,
descending bass line (going from an F to B flat) then parallel the narrator’s physical descent, a plunge
into chaos, as he arrives at his trial to finally “face the truth” (McLeod 192; Tonti-Filipinni 2).
The song’s musical composition turns from a rock ballad with shades of operatic influence into a
full blown mock opera, beginning in the completely unrelated key of A Major and doubling its beats per
minute to signify the foreign and unfamiliar setting and the heightened conflict between the narrator
and various forces of divinity (Tonti-Filipinni 3). Diminished and flat chords with a major tonic serve to
highlight and heighten the conflict, together with a host of musical techniques traditionally within
operas, such as a homophonic grand chorus and falsetto; these techniques together with a sort of
“distorted operatic phraseology” truly “evoke the insanity of the underworld trial” (McLeod 194). The
influence of opera is clear throughout the entire song, but here it rises to prominence. By definition, it
would seem that the bombast and sheer power of rock music and the story-oriented and high falsetto of
opera have no place together; however, the unlikely combination acts as a “transgression of
conventional musical boundaries… [reflecting] an analogous rejection of traditional cultural boundaries
11
Peraino claims this kind of physical development to be a representation of sexual awakening (Peraino 231).
However, these lyrics evoke a sense of a conclusion and death, not of a beginning and awakening. Once again, I
believe Peraino is not considering the lyrics in the context of the story or the narrator’s emotional state. Though
sexuality is certainly a huge part of his conflict, Mercury does not seem to reflect sexual desire with these lyrics.
surrounding sexual orientation, gender, and class” (McLeod 189).
In his “Bohemian Rhapsodies:
Operatic Influences on Rock Music,” McLeod acknowledges that, partially due to the influence of opera,
“commonly associated with gender crossing and sexual identity,” “’Bohemian Rhapsody’ narrates in part
Freddie Mercury’s own bohemian lifestyle” (McLeod 200). He goes on, however, to describe this
lifestyle as one “where ‘nothing really matters,’ including sexual or musical orientation,” somewhat
proposing the nihilistic interpretation of the Oxford critics, but with disregard for sexuality as opposed to
life and death (McLeod 200).
Though McLeod’s interpretation is more reasonable due to his
acknowledgement of the song as a sort of operatic narrative, the narrator’s repetition of “nothing really
matters” is damaging to its idea as nihilistic in any sense. In a song established as an operatic narrative
and as definitely acyclic, why would the narrator so often repeat the phrase if not for the personal need
to convince himself of its truth? It would be much easier for a man to give up and throw away his life if
he thought it was not worth anything, but, as he is unable to accept this, the narrator rebels (as will be
shown in the hard rock section of the song) against condemnation and is engaged in constant emotional
conflict over his eminent passing.
As the opera section begins and the narrator steps up to be judged by heaven and hell alike, the
divine figures begin to mock the narrator, representing the sentiments of both society and divinity, in
disbelief that this man even hopes to be saved. Some divine figure, angel or demon, begins with a
demeaning “I see a little silhouette of a man,” a kind of mocking recognition of how broken the narrator
is—all that is left is the shadow of a man. It is followed by a sort of jeering command “Scaramouch,
Scaramouch, will you do the Fandango?” 12 demanding that the narrator dances for them. Then, again
mocking the narrator, as well as acknowledging their divine power, the figures shout “thunderbolts and
lightening–very, very frightening me,” completely aware of the narrator’s terror in being judged in an
unfamiliar realm. The antiphonal chorus—divided between angels and demons, high and deep voices,
12
“Scaramouch” is an Italian expression for a “buffoon,” and “Fandango” is defined as either a Spanish dance or a
big quarrel or mess
respectively—echoes “Galileo” back and forth, recalling another man previously condemned to hell for
his beliefs, as if taunting the narrator with the inevitability of his damnation. The divine figures break
their echoes with a shout of “Figaro” and “Magnifico,” which trails off into a soft, weak plea from the
narrator.13
The narrator’s voice, powerless in comparison to the divine beings, then expedites the trial
approaching the operatic climax, as the listener waits in suspense to hear the fate of the sympathetic
narrator. The narrator pipes up, repeating his self-definition from the Intro—“I’m just a poor boy and
nobody loves me.” This argument is then repeated—considered—by the heavenly hosts as they say
“He’s just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity,” followed by a brief
piano interlude signifying the consideration of the judges. The narrator uses this moment to accelerate
the trial, alluding once more to the Intro with “easy come, easy go,” and then prompting the divine
judges to make their decision, asking the one thing on his mind: “will you let me go?” This incites the
climatic struggle of the narrator as he and his conscience try to battle the condemnation of the divine
judges who repeatedly declare “Bismillah! No, we will not let you go!” 14 The pacing of the antiphonal
argument quickly increases, reflecting the increasing desperation of the narrator, up until he makes his
final demand for the judges to “let [him] go.” This futile demand, however, is drowned out by the
determined, unrelenting “No” of the divine judges. The decision has been made and the heavenly hosts,
together with the narrator’s conscience, declare that “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for [him],”
confirming his spot in hell. As “for me” is emphatically repeated twice, the operatic influence is traded
in favor of hard rock, reflecting a sharp transition in the narrator’s sentiments, an understandable
reaction to eternal condemnation made purely on the basis of his sexual identity.
13
Reference to an opera called “The Barber of Seville.” This is likely an acknowledgement of the heavy influence
opera had on Mercury—so much so, in fact, that he produced a duet opera album with opera star Montserrat
Caballé. He saw opera as a beautiful and expressive musical form.
14
Arabic for “In the name of God”
As hard rock permeates the piece, the narrator voices his defiance against the verdict made,
spiting both society and divinity, who claim to sympathize with him yet still condemn him. Mercury
makes two significant apostrophes in this short segment of the song—the first is addressed to society,
particularly those who condemn him on the basis of some religious morality. He sings, with clear,
passionate anger in his voice, “so you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?” referring to the
common practice of stoning sinners in ancient times. Mercury’s spitting tone serves to highlight what
he sees as the hypocrisy of the people who judge him on the basis of the “sin” of simply being himself.
His second apostrophe is directed at God, “so you think you can love me and leave me to die?”
questioning the truth of a religion which claims to love all but continues to condemn. Mercury’s conflict
with divinity is finally explicitly stated—he seeks some kind of reconciliation, but those who spread the
good word of supposedly saving religions do nothing but condemn him for his sexuality. After shouting
that they cannot do this to him, the narrator decides that he’s “just gotta get out, just gotta get right
outta here,” attempting to escape the injustice and judgment of an unforgiving God and a merciless
society. Anger and frustration pervade the narrator’s rebellious attitude, rejecting his condemnation
and the society and divinity who branded him with the scarlet letter “H” for “homosexuality.” 15
The song’s Outro begins as the rebellious hard rock ends and the listener is left to witness the
emotional collapse of the narrator under the weight of his damnation, while he continues to try to
reassure himself that “nothing really matters.” The transition from the hard rock of the guitar and
drums to only a piano and Mercury’s voice brings the listener back from the chaotic heavenly realm back
to the familiar mortal plane, as the narrator ponders the situation he is left with—certain damnation.
He struggles to convince himself that “Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters,
nothing really matters to me,” its believability decreasing with each repetition, especially in the context
15
Brian May, one of Mercury’s band mates in Queen, recalled that “with Freddie, there was a lot of anger there,”
during the time when Bohemian Rhapsody was being written and recorded (Classic Albums: Queen: The Making of
a Night at the Opera). Though the remark was regarding the song “Death on Two Legs,” the same kind of anger is
very evident in “Bohemian Rhapsody,” though not the predominant emotion of the song as with the former.
the trial and his rebelliousness toward the sentence. The slowed rhythm of the melody, as well as
pauses within Mercury’s lyrics, seem to indicate a shocked uncertainty from the narrator, further
solidifying his disbelief at the judgment fallen upon him because of his homosexual identity. Clearly, the
damnation has had a major effect on the narrator. The narrator’s conscience chimes in for one last,
nearly inaudible line, “anywhere the wind blows,” weakly trying to urge the narrator to accept the
inevitable. 16 A gong is then hit, signaling the end of the operatic tale and the journey of the narrator.
The song’s conclusion leaves the listener in near disbelief—absolute damnation is not quite the
ending an audience would pray for. Although not initially obvious, by thorough analysis of the song and
its writer, Mercury’s intended theme becomes increasingly clearer—he has been wrongfully damned by
a society and a divinity solely on the basis of his homosexual identity. The listener quickly sympathizes
with Mercury when faced with the portrayed injustice of divinity’s quick judgment of the narrator’s
character. In fact, throughout most of the opera portion the forces of divinity are portrayed as mocking
the narrator, who hopes to be saved on the basis of being true to himself. Religion offers him absolutely
no consolation in his struggle to deal with an irreconcilable identity. Society only reinforces the decision
of the divine judges as they partake in, at least metaphorically, stoning him for his “sins.” This is clearly
a reference to the condemnation of homosexuals and other bohemians of the 1970s on some religious
moral ground in the majority of society. This conflict catalyzed the extreme development of Mercury’s
dual nature; Freddie Mercury remained an attempt to live above the damnation of society, but Farrokh
Bulsara, always more reserved, was unable to shy away from the condemnation tossed around by
religions which had no room for “deviants” in their churches, lest they should give up their identity
16
Peraino suggests that this final line serves to characterize the song as a Bildung, a story of growth in the central
character. She remarks that the resistance shown by Mercury “convinced [her] of the cosmic triviality of [her]
concerns about being homosexual” and states that “the song suggests a resistance through the adoption of a
‘bohemian’ stance toward identity… [involving] a necessarily changeable self-definition” (Peraino, 232). Though
Mercury does put up a sort of Faustian resistance toward God’s judgment, Peraino does not take into account the
narrator’s emotional state as the curtain closes— one of absolute devastation. There is no victory here as in “We
Are The Champions”—though we gained insight into Mercury’s struggle, he gained nothing from his resistance,
and the solemn, fading final notes of the song do not indicate a victory over persecution.
completely. “Bohemian Rhapsody” is a detailed, emotional insight into Bulsara’s struggle, with his stage
persona, Mercury, set aside, revealing the true emotional damage done to the seemingly stalwart
Freddie Mercury. Mercury’s account defines the pressure on the bohemians of society as they attempt
to break free from the negative stigmas of society, finding solitude in neither men nor God.
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in the US in the 1970s." The Journal of Sex Research 15.2 (1979): 108-18. JSTOR. Web. 7 May 2012.
Johnston, Carl, dir. The Story of Bohemian Rhapsody. BBC. UK, 4 Dec. 2004. Television.
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Mercury, Freddie. "Bohemian Rhapsody." Perf. Brian May, John Deacon, Roger Taylor, and Freddie Mercury.
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