In doing so, it created a weird continuity hiccup. In the closing silhouette, Elvis’s hair appears noticeably darker—dyed black—compared to earlier scenes where it reads closer to his natural shade. It’s not a plot-breaking flaw, but it’s the kind of detail that becomes irresistible once you notice it, like the movie briefly revealing the machinery behind the magic.
Love Me Tender is also sprinkled with the kind of old-Hollywood goofs that make vintage films feel human. A zipper appears where it shouldn’t. A modern car reportedly sneaks into a shot. A guitar keeps “playing” after Elvis stops strumming. A gun disappears and reappears depending on the angle. None of it ruins the experience. If anything, it adds to the sense that you’re watching a real artifact: a studio rushing to capture a phenomenon, patched together with practical decisions, imperfect takes, and the confidence that the star would carry it anyway.
