Velvet Goldmine

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.

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 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.