This was a fascinating film, not least because with such a remarkably chameleonic figure as Bowie, a documentary, whose form implies serious, considered factual and realistic judgments would seem to be, in terms of form, a wholly inappropriate one for this fascinating figure.
However, this film managed to capture, as far as that would ever be possible, something (a god proportion in fact) of the reality of this remarkable creative life. Each of the three aspects that made up his life and achievements were organically dealt with. These were his appearance, his music and his lyrics. There was also his personal artistic achievements, which would be a subject in itself. Here it was referenced but was not a part of the film, frustrating though that was. At the end, I felt I had something of a sense of the person and the artist – and of course, the two were inextricably linked.
Like Bowie himself, the film was not afraid to take risks, be different and make the viewer work to get something from it. We were not spoon-fed neat ideas and I feel that if Bowie saw the film he would probably have appreciated it. At times I felt that the style and approach of the film conveyed the unique essence of Bowie in cinematic terms.
In the interviews we saw (many of which I wanted to see in full) his remarkable intelligence shone through. I recall one seen (not in this film) where he spoke with remarkable perception about the dangers and risks of computers and, I think, even AI at a time when these ideas were certainly not in any way part of the intellectual mainstream.
And of curse he could be very funny and entertaining. An (early-ish?) interview in his Ziggy Stardust days with then then very closeted Russel Harty was a case in point. Being asked a clumpingly dull question about whether his shoes were masculine or feminine he looked at him in the flirtiest way possible, grinned and said ‘They’re just shoes, silly!