Velvet Goldmine

After watching 'Velvet Goldmine' for a second time I still have absolutely no idea what Todd Haynes was trying to achieve. He could have approached it as a straightforward biopic of Bowie and 70s glam (with the names changed to protect the "innocent" if need be), OR as a surreal, camp fantasy equal parts Ken Russell, Russ Meyer and Grant Morrison (Zenith, Doom Patrol, The Invisibles). But by doing both, or rather, neither, it's ends up a confused bore that pleases nobody. As an Eno fan I was happy to hear quite a lot of his (and Roxy Music's) songs used on the soundtrack, and some of the Bowie pastiches were very good also, but I find 'Velvet Goldmine' to be overlong and ultimately unsatisfying. I also think Haynes not entirely accurate equation of glam rock equaling homosexuality sheds more light on him than the actual era. The movie is more a post-Morrissey look at glam than a truthful document of an exciting and innovative musical period. 'Velvet Goldmine' contains a few enjoyable moments but not enough to recommend it. A great movie could be made about Bowie but this isn't it.

Slash Fanfiction is when a person writes a story involving two (usually) males characters from a television show or movie in a homoerotic romantic relationship. And this is what Velvet Goldmine is. A visually stunning, incredibly tasty piece of slash fanfiction. But instead of Kirk & Spock or Mulder & Krycek, it's someone who's a lot like David Bowie and someone who's a lot like Iggy Pop. Perhaps that appeals to you. Perhaps it doesn't. But despite its fanfiction feeling, this movie is absolutely visually stunning. The imagery will last with you long after you leave the movie, your eyes blinking as you adjust to a rather grey drab world. The movie isn't about substance, it's about style; about creating and rearranging yourself to fit the time, to fit the world around you. It's about fluidity, fluidity of gender, personality, ideas, and romance. Because, like all Slash fanfiction, above everything else, it's a love story.

It is quite an extraordinary experience to sit through this film years after its controversial outing back in the distant 1998. Like many of the great pieces of art, or wine for that matter, time gives it that extra something that evolves its taste into something that you crave. The erotic innocence of the story is very much Oscar Wilde territory. Innocence, yes. - I've been arguing about it with some people about the inclusion of the word, if not the feeling, innocence in this context. I insist the word is perfectly fitting because at the end of this rainbow there is the longing for love. Ewan McGregor's cock is already famous the world over - and with reason - here it dangles across his frame like a child, unaware of his own nakedness. Jonathan Rhys Mayer is a delight. Strange to see him in feathers after "Match Point" and yet it makes a lot of sense. Christian Bale one day, will leave behind the pouting arrogance that is rapidly becoming his trademark - even as Batman - and come back to the glorious promise he insinuated here. All in all a triumph, Todd Haynes style.

Todd Haynes' fantasy rethinking of an era in rock history, as a David Bowie-like singer in the early '70s burns out and disappears, and one of his most ardent young fans--now a music journalist--interviews friends and colleagues hoping to get at the truth. Past-and-present collage isn't given a very pointed treatment (once the narrative has gone a certain distance, a flashback dating back even further in time drains the immediacy out of the proceedings), though the design of the picture and the personalities involved are very colorful, as is the soundtrack, a mix of newly written tunes and classics. The U.K. truly got a colorful slice of the glam-rock era (as opposed to the U.S., which pretty much missed the boat--and the musical point), and the film, mostly set in England, nails that distinctive time and place with embracing accuracy. Haynes is also shrewd enough to remember the particular talents impersonated here were not the originators of the scene--that all musical trends date back, and nothing is ever truly original or lasts forever. The cast is uniformly excellent: sexy, decadent, kinetic, nervy. Haynes isn't a master of the outré (like, say, Ken Russell), but neither is he a junky or disrespectful filmmaker, and even in the lowest moments of their lives, this crazy collection of hedonists still look and sound pretty great. **1/2 from ****

A presumptuous movie that hasn't grown old well.

It could have been more bold or daring, but it is just sentimental and nostalgic in a strange way: I got the impression that the movie doesn't fully respect it's characters or their actions, which is not a problem if it creates a feeling of objective distance, but such detachment is broken by the sentimentalism: should we miss glam rock or laugh at it? The movie is about glam rock as a musical and a social movement, as an attitude, but the general tone is closer to an elegy than to a defense without actually being neither.

I liked the movie, though, specially Ewan McGregor and the performances by bands highly influenced by glam rock.