Regie:
Todd HaynesKamera:
Maryse AlbertiBesetzung:
Ewan McGregor, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Christian Bale, Toni Collette, Eddie Izzard, Janet McTeer, Brian Molko, Keith-Lee Castle, Joseph Beattie (mehr)Inhalte(1)
Der Journalist Arthur Stuart soll einen Artikel über den Popstar Brian Slade schreiben, der Anfang der 70er unter mysteriösen Umständen seine Karriere beendet hatte. Die Recherche wird für Stuart zur Reise in eine vergangene Ära: eine Zeit des sexuellen und politischen Aufbruchs, in der Camp nicht nur das Wort für Zeltlager war. (ARD)
(mehr)Kritiken (2)
Just as the glam-rock era of 1970s Britpop, ushered in after sobering up from the flower power ideals, was a road to nowhere, so this film thrashes from nothing to nothing. It’s only the musical numbers that keep it afloat; you can soak up the atmosphere of glam rock, with all its glitter and pervading decadence, with its high boots, tight-fitting costumes and colourful hairstyles; the musical era from whose visuals Freddie Mercury drew in his early days, or David Bowie. The latter and his fictional alter-ego Ziggy Stardust have a point of contact with the film’s main character – Brian Slade – in a quite convincing performance by Rhys-Meyers, while McGregor, sticking his privates out at the audience during a performance, is strikingly reminiscent of Iggy Pop, the enfant terrible of the rock scene, with his excess and wildness, and although he surprisingly doesn't have much space in the film, he makes the most of those few minutes. But in the main storyline, the film doesn't work. The journalistic investigations of Christian Bale, whose surprisingly bland delivery consists only of staring fascinatedly at his idols, are tedious, along with the almost dreamlike scenes that don't hold together, and the filmmaker goes to great lengths to communicate dubious ideas ("A man's image is his life."). It's like glam rock with this film – interesting, but it gets boring very soon.
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Velvet Goldmine is the Citizen Kane of glam rock, which also makes it fundamentally different from that canonical masterpiece. Orson Welles forced us to be moved by the revelation that the wealthy magnate had a heart and a yearning for lost innocence. His film revolves entirely around the title character, whereas all of the other supporting characters serve only as vehicles to add more layers to the portrait of the protagonist (which also includes the fact that the reporter remains completely anonymous, as he has no relationship to Kane at all). Using a similar narrative structure comprising flashbacks motivated by journalistic appearances and framed by echoes of a crucial moment (though not necessarily identical in time and place, but definitely in meaning), Todd Haynes tells a much more intoxicating, fantastical, sweeping and, mainly, deeper and more personal story. Fittingly for its use of David Bowie and his Ziggy Stardust persona as the model for the film, Velvet Goldmine tells the story of everyone else and the star’s influence on his era, his surroundings and, primarily, the particular people who loved him and discovered themselves through him. It turned out in the end that Bowie’s refusal to license his songs and the Ziggy persona for the production was the best thing that could have happened for Haynes. Instead of a biographical film constrained by the approval of outside authorities, he could take absolute creative licence and project onto the screen not a specific personality, but an impression of it. The focus thus shifts from biographical information and a carefully guarded image to meanings, moods, emotions and perceptions. The resulting impressive collage is then conveyed not only through the words of the characters, but primarily through their bodies and costumes, as well as by the sets, which become supremely expressive and tremendously captivating means of enchanting the audience. And when that is further combined with the music, whether as background, concert performance or music video, the result is ecstasy (especially in the case of “Ballad of Maxwell Demon”, though that is far from being the only case). Haynes created the perfect cinematic fantasy of a musical decade (but with echoes of the two decades on either side of it) and its key stars, as well as of the music industry, society and queerness, or rather the imitation and performative presentation of queerness. At the same time, the film also tells a magnificent story of the search for oneself, which is difficult in any era, though at that time it was somewhat more obvious thanks to the alien and thus easier to find kindred spirits. Besides these major and minor stories, Velvet Goldmine also remains a spectacular ode to a single night, when it rains glitter and which is the culmination of everything around it. In its own way, Haynes’s delightfully captivating and beautifully intimate masterpiece ultimately becomes the equivalent of an old Oscar Wilde brooch – an impression of something great and personal, a kindred touch and a gift that unites all who pass it on.
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