User reviews

I first learned of Todd Haynes with the release of his 2002 drama "Far from Heaven", starring Julianne Moore as a 1950s housewife who develops a relationship with her African-American gardener after discovering her husband kissing a man. It turned out that Haynes had been making movies for some years by that point, including 1998's "Velvet Goldmine". This Academy Award-nominated spectacle is a look at the glam rock era, with Christian Bale as a reporter trying to find out what became of a glam star from the early '70s. This movie has it all: drug use, orgies, sexual fluidity, and everything else that was characteristic of the era.

It's not a masterpiece, but damned if the cast members don't put their all into the roles. I recommend it, but mind you, this is NOT a fluffy, "Almost Famous"-style look at '70s music; there are some shocking things here.

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 ****

I saw Goldmine years ago and it remains one of my favorites. Everything about this movie is amazing- from the music, to the costume and the actors.

Here we get a young Christian Bale as a struggling kid trying to grow up in the age of glam rock. The confusion of trying to be who you are and the confusion of trying to figure out who that person is, something that is understandable to anyone who has ever been a teenager. Like so many, he finds himself in music- that of Brian Slade. Meyers is outstanding as a lowly boy who makes it with the big boys. He plays the climb to fame brilliantly and the demise of glam rock with emotion. Toni Collette adds the flare that is necessary and shows the true strength in what a woman will do/put up with for love. She is a delight and she plays well with Meyers. Ewan McGregor is also terrific as Curt Wild, the perfect half to Slade's glam.

The music is what Goldmine is really all about. Meyers and McGregor sing some of the tunes themselves, but the addition of Radiohead's Thom Yorke to the mix as well as the boys from Placebo are an excellent addition to an already great soundtrack. Adding Lou Reed seems like over kill, but I'll take it- if there is anything that I learned from watching Goldmine many times- is that the bigger the better.

This is a great coming of age movie- it is a bit adult. There are heavy issues here such as drug abuse, alcoholism, adultery, homosexuality, orgies...be aware-

Even if I didn't think this movie was fantastic (which I do), I would have to be impressed with the incorporation of Oscar Wilde, his fascination with the decadence of pop culture, and his brilliant philosophies concerning art.

At the end of the film, when Arthur Stuart sits to have a drink with Curt Wylde (Oh look! A play on Oscar!, Wylde looks up and tells him that, "The true artist creates beautiful things, and puts none of his own life into them". This is one of the several scenes in which Oscar Wilde is referenced subtly, seamlessly and beautifully.

Curt is not simply Iggy Pop. He is Oscar Wilde. He is the true artist of the crowd, because he creates music without using the art as a form of autobiography.

Brian Slade is Dorian Gray. He invests all of his persona into the public, and into his songs, trapping himself in an expectation. The alter-ego Maxwell Demon is eternal youth. It is the embodiment of Slade in a single moment. Unfortunately, he traps himself, and leaves no room for growth. The shooting accomplishes two things. Slade arranging this pseudo-murder is Dorian gray destroying his portrait. At first Dorian was intrigued, even excited by the changes he saw in the painting. Then it began to wear on him. So with Slade/ Demon. The hoax liberates Slade the way death does Gray. Also, This secures Maxwell Demon a place in history. Brian Slade was a pop-star who was too controversial and too personally naked in his work to have any real longevity. The hype would have faded, and if he changed or grew as a person, that would have meant changing everything about his art (as they were so interlocked) and would have led to cries of "sell out". Either way, he would have faded out and been likely forgotten (the way Britney Spears will hopefully do one day). By enacting this faux death, Slade guarantees Maxwell Demon some form of eternal youth, trading in his career to do so (selling his soul).

There's more, as well. Jerry Devine, for instance, is Lord Henry. Mandy is Sybil Vane. They aren't exact, of course, and there are other veins running through them that make them unique, but one can see the influence.

Beautifully done, and a well paid tribute to the genius of Oscar Wilde!

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.

I don't think I've ever seen a movie that has polarized people as much as this one, or at least very few. Some people have put down every single thing about it. As for me, when my roommate (who had already seen it) asked me what I'd thought of it I replied in all honesty, "I loved every single frame of it." She concurred, and we've both seen it again since. I plan to buy it as soon as I can find it for sale. It's heavy on metaphors, which seems to have annoyed a lot of people. As for it's structural resemblance to 'Citizen Kane', that was one of the points. Glam rock was in part about copying others for copying's sake, like Brian Slade copied from Curt Wild, and everyone copied from Jack Fairy. The performances are all great. Some may nitpick about how the characters were portrayed, but I think they were all apt. Ewan McGregor has gotten plenty of slobbering, ecstatic praise from me in the past, and this only encouraged the worship. Toni Collette, so mired in ugly duckling roles since 'Muriel's Wedding', is wonderful, as is Christian Bale's brittle, disillusioned reporter role. Jonathan Rhys-Meyers is, as Brian Slade, a glittering void, as cloaked in mystery at the end as he was at the beginning. Some of have criticized his role, but I think he did it just right, with a grand coldness. One believes that only such a creature could be the idol of an era that was, in the end, about glittering emotional voids and icy hipness. Why did he do what he did? We never know. That's one of the best parts. (I must embarrass myself here by noting, also, that Rhys-Meyers is so shockingly beautiful it's disgusting, like eating too much honey. Kinda makes you wanna puke on his shoes, doesn't it?) I suppose that not everyone can be expected to love this movie as much as I did, but I'm still a little surprised at some of the venom that's been spit at it. Then again, it is a truly enigmatic film, delicious for those who can appreciate a glorious feast of sight and sound, but just plain confusing and annoying for those who lack the imagination to appreciate it.

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.

... on the cusp of stardom in the early 1970s with his "Ziggy Stardust" album and persona (the title comes from a Bowie song of that period). In fact, Bowie was approached, but he then had plans of making his own movie about this time, and demurred. He also did not allow the use of his music for this film.

So a somewhat fictionalized account was used. It is told in flashback, when newspaper writer played by Christian Bale has to write an article about a sensational death of a rock star, which turned out to have been staged and fraudulent. The rock star is a Ziggy-like androgynous glam-rock star, played by Jonathan Rhys Myers. Bale's writer has ambivalent feelings about the assignment, behaving a bit like a clumsy teenager at the time, attracted to this glam rock movement and struggling with his sexuality. Ewan McGregor plays another rock star who is a pastiche of Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and Mick Jagger. Toni Collette plays an Angela Bowie type character, who helps fill in the gaps of the story of her husband.

The British glam-rock scene seems to have been well-captured, with all the purported decadence of the stars. Classic songs of the period by the likes of T.Rex, Slade, Roxy Music, Brian Eno, and Cockney Rebel make up for the lack of Bowie songs. Highly recommended.

I almost didn't want to comment, because I simply cannot match some of the wonderfully eloquent things that have already been said about this film, however, because it is an all time favourite of mine, I simply cannot resist.

How anyone can not like this film is beyond me, I have read a lot of reviews of this film, both positive and negative and the negative points people have made I couldn't disagree more with. The film isn't about Iggy Pop and David Bowie, it isn't even about two gay men, its about two people who are falling in love at the most inopportune and exploitable moments of their lives.

The characters aren't just engaging, they are addictive, the plot isn't just compelling, it's spellbinding. The acting cannot be faulted, the casting is perfect and the soundtrack is one that I have barely gone a week without listening to in the last ten years.

After badgering him for the last five years or so, I finally convinced a friend to watch this film. At the end I asked him what he thought and he just looked quite pensive for a moment and then turned to me and said: I wish I had watched this film years ago when you first told me about it.

I don't allow myself to watch it often, even though I own 3 copies of it, I save it for special occasions when I want to be completely glued to my TV screen. If you have never seen the film, I urge you to watch it this minute and allow it to become deep-set in your heart. If you have seen the film and didn't find it as wonderful as I do, then I actually, genuinely feel physically sorry for you, that you are unable to enjoy this cinematic masterpiece.

I didn't really know what to expect, though I had been anticipating this film since I first heard Michael Stipe was to produce a glam rock film. It was delightful to see something different than the usual rise and fall storyline--but I found even more so enjoyable the fact that the chronology and plot revolved purely around visuals. IT seems like style, color, and even sex take all the turns, and the characters are along for the go. The performance scenes are like none other, particularly Curt Wild's (played by Ewan Mcgregor) first stage performance. Haynes' direction is marvelous--truly inventive and watchable. ******** out of 10 on the IMDB scale.

Despite the instructions at the start of the movie, this should definitely NOT be played at maximum volume. It is interesting only for a few vague references to the actual history of David Bowie, Iggy Pop and Brian Eno. Ewen McGregor is cool for about 30 seconds as he does an impression of Iggy (Curt Wild) on stage. The other guy playing Bowie/Brian is simply awful. The film follows a flashback/flash forward then and now history, through the eyes of a journalist who was there, and has been assigned to write a retrospective. His character is poorly developed. Mostly he stands around in concerts and looks bewildered. This is supposed to represent his sexual identity crisis. The pacing is terrible, the lip syncing is terrible, the set pieces are terrible, the story is terrible the acting is terrible. Oh yeah there is a stupid reference to Oscar Wilde. I think the movie also tries to criticize Bowie's music and image in the 80s, but does so in a completely obtuse manner. If you want to see great androgynous costumes, and hear great glitter rock, you are much better off renting the Bowie concert flick "Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars." Velvet Goldmine is another great idea turned in to a bad movie.

i really enjoyed this movie. the person who reviewed it so negatively seems to have missed the point. yes, it is over the top, campy & sometimes corny. but come on! you were expecting a restrained movie about david bowie and iggy pop?

i loved the camp, outfits, and excesses, and was unexpectedly moved by the story. using a queer, ex-fan reporter to frame the movie--so as to emphasize the effect that this bi-positive bi-posing rock star had on queer kids, and how upsetting his betrayal of them was--worked brilliantly. the use of arty-fairydust moments to capture the importance of fantasy to this scene worked wonderfully. i really appreciated jack fairy, as a character and as a link from glitter to the drag scene--this is not usually acknoledged. and whenever the movie veered too far into preciousness, the iggy pop/kurt wild character showed up to redeem it. his origin story--18 months of electroshock after being caught having sex with a boy--was a much-needed dose of reality in the midst of the glitter. and whenever the movie needed testosterone and directness, he appeared to supply it.

well, i think it's pretty clear that i'm the demographic for this movie--i'm the right age, i'm a fag, and i love both punk and glitter. but my straight boyfriend adored it too. if you ever enjoyed glitter or punk, keep an open mind & check it out, i think you'll like it. even if you don't, you can always look at the pretty outfits.

Velvet Goldmine should not be viewed (and reviewed)solely as a Ziggy Stardust film -- it's not; it's a parable, and like all parables, it is open to more than one interpretation. What is sad, viewing the comments here, is the number of reviewers who have commented on the film's "homosexuality," as if there were nothing else in the film, or at least no other sexuality. Glam Rock made BIsexuality "fashionable" (here in the States, at least), and only one of the many characters in the film (including Oscar Wilde) might be clinically viewed as being "homosexual" (whatever THAT means); the main characters are exploring ALL aspects of their lives, including their sexuality, and most of them have both male and female partners, sometimes together. To obsess about a male-male or female-female scene between any two given characters at any one point of the film is to miss the whole theme of growth and personal development -- INESCAPABLE personal development, says our reviewer -- which runs through Velvet Goldmine.

An alchemical transformation occurs to the personae of all of the main characters; fixating on the single theme of same-gender sexuality ignores everything which happens to the characters before or after their same-sex encounters.

Velvet Goldmine shows us Glam Rock as one type of catalyst which changed the lives of the people who lived through it in the early 1970's; Disco was the catalytic force of the late '70s and early '80s. (One wonders what the future will identify as the catalyst of the 1990's -- Bill Clinton's sex life being discussed during dinner hour newscasts, perhaps?)

This is definitely one of the best movies I've ever seen. I must admit the beginning confused me a bit, and the movie may have lacked in plot, but I just didn't notice, during the movie, I felt like I got sucked up within it, not like becoming one of the characters, but as if the cinema and the people within was gone and the only thing that existed was the movie - this only happens to me very,very rarely, I don't know if I've really been _that_ captured by a movie ever before - and it seemed the time that passed was at the same time very long and still just a few minutes. It felt somewhat like a very intense dream of sorts, and it lasted for the rest of the night once I got out of the cinema.

Indeed, these where fictional characters, like so many have pointed out before I did, even though based on real glam-rockers. However, I don't think that matters very much (although that may be because I wasn't there during the glam-era) it's a very good movie, it's artistic and the music is adorable (but I do think Bowie should have let them include at least the song Velvet Goldmine) so why bother about whether it's really real or fictional? Why not just enjoy it?

As for the Jack Fairy-character that some of you has wondered why he was there, I thought it was him who shot Maxwell... but as far as I'm concerned, he didn't have to do anything really, he was beautiful enough (not quite as marvellous as Jonathan's character Brian though) to have his existence in the movie justified anyway.

I rate this my fav movie right now, and everyone with an open mind should see it and for the rest of you lot, I just pity you that you can not see the beauty of this piece of art, because it really really is an utterly beautiful dream, I'd like to call it, once you let yourself fall into it and don't think of annoying unimportances (which I usually do while watching a movie, this one saved me from that, I guess I owe that to Todd and the talented, beautiful actors).

There's nothing in "Velvet Goldmine" that can really make up for the fact that Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' performances are well below par. They never really seem convincing or even genuinely interested in their parts.

When the movie moves away from its main characters it tends to succeed more, but although some of the supporting actors are excellent (especially Toni Collette), obviously there's only so much they can offer. The newly-recorded music is lukewarm (I looked at the names in the credits and marvelled at how they produced such uninteresting work - it's remarkable just how much the film perks up when the 'real' versions of "Virginia Plain" and "Satellite of Love" are playing) and, overall, the movie does a very poor job of evoking 1974 or indeed 1984. A completely missed opportunity.

LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT! This is a great film. Todd Haynes is a genius. It's really a sttruggle for me not to watch it every day. Actually all Todd Haynes' movies are great and very unique, but this one...The world would be a little bit darker without Velvet Goldmine.

The story is revealed through the eyes of a journalist, investigating some unexplained mysteries surrounding Brian Slade, and his androgynous alter-ego Maxwell Demon, a David Bowie-esque performer on the English glam-rock scene of the early 70s. Our intrepid reporter revisits some demons from his own youth as a groupie on this scene, of his family's inability to understand him and his uncertainty about his own sexuality. Toni Collette acquits herself very well, within the limitations of her script as the decadent rock star's American wife, stoically enduring her husband's peccadilloes until the very end. The real star of this movie is the music. Some of the finest work of this period by Lou Reed, Roxy Music, Marc Bolan, Steve Harley, Brian Eno and others is reworked or featured in it's original form. They say if you can remember the 60s then you weren't there, but if you can remember the early 70s you will enjoy this movie.

One of the problems of doing a semi-fictionalized narrative is that the resulting piece will invariably be compared to its sources. The way to combat this is by creating something that is fresh, dynamic and full of ideas, great story and characters: something that overwhelms the audience and makes them forget what its derivations are. This, I regret to say, is what "Velvet Goldmine" failed to do. I couldn't but be aware, as I sat through the film, of all the references passing across the screen, whether they be to people, places, songs or events. This was particularly evident during the performance sequences. I'd watch Ewan McGregor doing his Iggy thing and be thinking, "My that's a good cover of 'TV Eye.' That Mr. Pop was one hell of a performer. I kind of wish I was watching him now." The same was doubly true of the fella playing Bowie. I kept thinking, naggingly, throughout the whole movie, that these guys were but pale imitations of the real thing. It was very distracting. Now, several years ago I saw "I Shot Andy Warhol", a film I found thoroughly engaging. To be certain, there were inaccuracies, characters who were not too faithfully portrayed (Candy Darling comes to mind). However, I wasn't aware of it while I was watching the movie. I was too absorbed in the drama. Mary Harron might have taken liberties, but she put on a good show, something Todd Haynes failed to do. The wan figure of Brian Slade, petulant and insipid, offered little from beginning to end. I could just as easily have been watching a perfume ad. Curt Wild wasn't much better. If these fellas were supposed to be revolutionaries, they sure didn't revolve much. The young reporter at the center of the film was such a hapless dolt that I could hardly be bothered to share his passion. Haynes certainly has an eye for style. The film was a lavish and beautiful thing to behold, sort of a moving Pierre & Gilles composition. But pageantry isn't its own reward. It is possible that this might have been fully fitting with his intention. He might have been principally interested in creating some sort of didactic exegesis. But his ideas weren't strong enough, it was too weak an intellectual broth to hold much critical weight. And if you haven't got enough brains to pitch a good argument you might as well charm the old fashioned way, with character, dialogue, story and plot. And frankly, this picture was a bore.

I have to admit, the only reason I rented this movie was because of my current Ewan McGregor fixation--but I really hit a good one renting Velvet Goldmine. Being too young to have experienced the glam rock scene of the seventies and eighties and the roots of punk rock this movie not only gave me an awesome Ewan fix but a surreal, musically effulgent look at a time period that few got to experience first hand. Should you be a very straight forward and literal movie goer, I would not recommend this movie. But Velvet Goldmine kick a whole lot of ass for anyone who loves music, David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Kurt Cobain and the pioneers of some of the greatest music to come out of the 20th century. Todd Haynes created a world of decadence, sexual experimentation glued together with infectious music and enough eye makeup to keep Christina Aguleria happy into her eighties. I highly recommend this movie to those with open minds and open ears.

I've been reading the previous reviews and most of them appear to be divided into two camps: it was either a "glorious" look at the glam rock days or it was a bizarre pro-homo mess. I loved Haynes' previous films ("Safe" and "Superstar", which is pretty impossible to find, btw), but I was really disappointed in this. I don't care about the pro-gay sentiments, but in the end, Haynes seemed to forget the story he was filming. There is no pay-off. Instead of probing into the decadent demise of the Slade character he goes off into this twisted wonderland of the journalist's memories. Sure, that was interesting (the fact that he hooked up with the Iggy character) but in the end, it would have been more satisfying to see some sort of real conclusion to the story, rather than seeing him having sex on the rooftop. Great costumes, make up, set design...too bad the overall execution couldn't have been better.

While the movie certainly looked (okay, okay, "New York City" obviously isn't) and sounded good, the story and characters left me flat. Nobody really hooked me or made me care about them, which is important when telling a story. It just seemed to be more interested in spouting faux mysticism of the era, rather than trying to tie it all together and telling me a cohesive story.