Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

D A Pennebaker had already filmed icons like Dylan and Lennon before getting the gig to film David Bowie's "farewell" concert at London Hammersmith Odeon in July 1973. Bowie was huge in Britain at the time but had yet to break America which makes me tend to think the assignment came to him rather than the other way round.

Actually as a great fan of glam rock back in the day (being 13 at the time of the movie's shooting date, how could I not be, 1972-73, being glam's heyday here), I do remember the fuss about this being Bowie's last show, giving the concert great curiosity, not to mention envy value at the time to fans in the sticks like me. To discover that this historic show was captured in full was a great and welcome surprise to me.

That said, the film-maker's approach to the concert is pretty conservative actually as we get a little bit of pre-show scene-setting, with Bowie getting made-up in his dressing room, chatting to his wife Angie, while cutting in scenes of his adoring, often lookalike fans outside. Without too much delay, however, the show's on and Bowie and his band, the latter brilliantly led by Mick Ronson on lead guitar, tear into a great set, culminating in the famous, if misleading "This is our last show" quote and the bathetic euphoria which greets final song "Rock and Roll Suicide".

In between, we get four costume changes, a goodly selection of numbers from his just-released "Aladdin Sane" album (but no "Jean Genie" sadly!), plenty, naturally from the "Ziggy Stardust" album but also tracks from some of his earlier albums. Unlike other rock-movies by the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin, Bowie and the band are on fine form, with confidence exuding from the singer's every phrase and move.

Yes, some tracks go on too long, it was a shame that two of his best tunes ("All The Young Dudes" and "Oh! You Pretty Things) get rather thrown away in a medley, but against that there are great covers of Jacques Brel's "My Death" and the Velvets' "White Light White Heat", although I'm still undecided at what to make of the somewhat ridiculous mine-sequence during an almost never-ending version of "Wild Eyed Boy From Freecloud". Pennebaker's editing is adequate if, as I say, unimaginative, making the most of the no doubt limited camera numbers available to him, but thereafter just cutting from Bowie and Ronson (you barely see the rest of the band) to the ecstatic audience. Somehow Ringo Starr, director of Bowie friend and rival Marc Bolan's "Born To Boogie" movie the previous year, appears in Bowie's dressing room between songs casting an envious eye no doubt on a missed opportunity behind the lens again.

Anyway, I was rapt by this exciting glimpse of a top artist on top form, masterminding his destiny to a "T", delivering a great rock and roll show in the process.

What of course differentiates this show to contemporary rock concerts is that Bowie treats the performance itself as musical theatre, quite literally, a performance artist if ever there was one.

Decent capture of David Bowie at his creative, flamboyant best. Good concert, and it's not all about Bowie. Mick Ronson's guitaring almost steals the show.

Interesting behind-the-scenes footage adds a new, more personal, aspect to the live concert genre. Could have done with more of that though, as the behind-the-scenes stuff is fleeting, and sometimes seems token. Maybe some footage of practices and sound checks, or interviews with Bowie, would have been in order.

Not perfect though. Production quality is quite raw and rough. Sound quality is variable.

A must-see for all David Bowie fans.

Bowie is clearly enjoying himself here, although today he claims to find this record of the Spiders final show unwatchable. The costuming IS spectacularly dated and Ziggy's antics do more to camp up a storm than forewarn of an imminent apocalypse. Aside from the music though, there is more going on here than silly, decadent posturing. Backstage musings by Bowie are suggestive of why he is not merely a relic from a past era: there is inherent tension between the public persona and the demand to discover the "real" Bowie. Rock music has since split into 2 positions along these lines: for the most part, the English traditions of camp and irony have served as a distancing device from the demands of an "authentic" self which can impose on others in an intrusive way- Jewel's folk music/"Knight Without Armor" is merely the latest manifestation of the latter tendency (also, despite the hatred of hippies, Nirvana ironically shared their "no hang ups" philosophy in their "Come As You Are" period). Ziggy was, at the time, the most extreme movement away from the "authenticity" of Woodstock Nation in which there was nothing separating the performer and the audience...been an "alien being" also guaranteed a spectacular show for record buyers who may otherwise have had little interest in live music given the high fidelity improvements in recording technology and home sound systems which were starting to become available. It is the irresolvable tension between these two tendencies toward camp/authentic which helps generate the excitement of the audience captured in this film, and which can still inspire interest and enjoyment today.

I just got back from seeing the restored version of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. Though the concert film does have some shortcomings as mentioned in other reviews what it does have going for it is the music. The clarity of the music being played is extraordinarily clear and powerful. The band is tight and Mick Ronson plays his ass off. I never new he played so well. In addition, Jeff Beck makes a cameo appearance and plays two songs with the band. Jeff Beck plays a couple of cool solos as well. Though most of the focus is on David and Mick we get the full concert from beginning to end with a couple of backstage shots. If you are even a bit interested go see it. You won't be disappointed.

To look at Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and be much too critical of it, and this is now four months since David Bowie left his corporeal form (has it been that long already?) is difficult. I know I can certainly nitpick certain things, mostly in the streak of the 'auteur'; given that this is DA Pennebaker, who also brought us basically the definitive Dylan doc from the era a decade before this, Don't Look Back, and the precursor to Woodstock in Monterey Pop, this isn't quite as superlative as those films as far as the Cinema Verite fly-on-the-wall approach. There's some behind the scenes stuff, but it's not terribly involving (aside from seeing Bowie's make-up put on to make him Ziggy) as the conversations seem muted and uninteresting (yes, even with Ringo backstage which seems a feat).

BUT, and this is the big but here, I know deep down I don't care, at least as far as why I wanted to watch this again. And somehow, of all things, watching his life performance here of 'Space Oddity' finally made me cry. I don't know whether it would've brought me to tears (not for too long, just enough, and some of it was due to feeling a connection with the audience as a couple of people shown by Pennebaker's camera were also in tears), but it was in that moment it hit me: we won't get this again, not quite in this style, not quite in this style, not shot on such rough film and in such an atmosphere.

Of course there are still provocateurs in rock/pop (Marilyn Manson on the heavier side, Lady Gaga on the more space-driven and sexual, if it can somehow get more sexual than Bowie), but Bowie was his own sound much as Tarantino was and is his own filmmaker: taking from various sources (rock, blues, glam from T-Rex, the avant-garde rock of Lou Reed, Iggy Pop to an extent) and making it his own giant and unmistakbale SOUND in full caps. And don't forget this is David Bowie as Ziggy friggin Stardust and the Spiders from Mars - including the practically incomparable guitarist Mick Ronson on guitar playing like he's ten years ahead of the fashion and heavy metal stars only still in his own class - and playing off of all the works he'd done up through the masterpiece Aladdin Sane.

Here you get to see him perform many of his big hits (along with Oddity you get 'Changes' and 'Suffragette City' and his own rendition of 'All the Young Dudes' which he wrote), and Pennebaker and his crew are at times breathless to keep up and yet have enough cameras and sense to also get the crowd. The audience is a key part of this, even as at times it's hard to see all of them and the lights make it into its own stylized piece of filmmaking; they're often seen only briefly, and yet what we see is enough and, again, I think this helps to connect the audience watching the film further with the band. But for all the hits (and some covers, like 'White Light White Heat' and 'Let's Spend the Night Together'), the stand-outs here are the songs that people who only know Bowie from classic rock radio won't know as well.

By the time that Bowie and the Spiders get to 'Time', which is more indebted to German lounge singing of the early 20th century (Threepenny Opera anyone?), the softer but incredibly incisive 'My Death', and a wild, possibly overlong but who the hell cares rendition of his most metal-ish song 'The Width of a Circle', he's on fire as a performer and totally in control of how he can command a stage and an audience. In other words it may not be the perfect rock documentary, hence why it's not the full top-star rating. But as far as performances by mega-stars in their prime, this is a keeper (and ironic that this was his "final" performance, of course just the beginning of the many many Bowies). And yet the tears I had briefly watching this and coming to grips after months of feeling numb to his loss were I think the fact that he'd still be iconic if all he left was this.