“Heroes” is sung new, Bowie and the fans finding their way into its exulting. The Beatles’ “Love Me Do” is glammed up and roared back, harmonica rasping and leaping, an act of homage and replacement.
“We took it on our shoulders that we were going to establish the 21st century in 1972,” Bowie explains. In the early Seventies, “All the Young Dudes” brings a tearful rush of familiarity at its glorious, precisely hip youth anthem. Morgan had access to an unseen archive trove, including superb concert footage, here cut into brilliant shards. An essentially chronological narrative therefore also mashes footage into an eternal Bowie now, attempting a new, posthumous experience akin to Abba’s absent concert comeback. “There is no scissor-cut – no absolutes,” he says life is “labyrinthine”. “Hallo Spaceboy”, the 1996 single which reclaimed Major Tom’s elusive, totemic spirit, soundtracks an ecstatic opening montage, the component parts of Bowie’s vision cohering like cosmic dust.
STARDUST MEMORIES TORRENT CRACKED
Bowie the cracked actor who mined the Seventies’ fault-lines, matching The Beatles in making cultural and musical waves his own, had a personal arc too, which gives Moonage Daydream its emotional shape. Rather than a sad betrayal of rock promise, I witnessed the grateful healing of a damaged soul. They also reveal what I mistook in that later, resolutely human performer. Just as his official Stones doc Crossfire Hurricane extracted Jagger’s most revealing band narrative over a torrent of era-defining footage, so the late Bowie’s words author this digital maximalisation of his cut-up techniques. Brett Morgan’s estate-sanctioned, IMAX-ready, sense-splattering film simulates the fiery trail of Bowie’s earlier, comet impact.
0 kommentar(er)
