Moonage Daydream by Brett Morgan (2022)
David Bowie is a God, and Moonage Daydream is not God-like. It’s a so-so film about a brilliant artist. It’s a documentary by Brett Morgan, and I can tell he loves Bowie as much as I do, but even with that, I found this film disappointing. Also, remember that I would be thrilled if the film were one image of Bowie, and they played all his recordings for two and a half hours behind that photo. I would be excellent with that, but I feel that Moonage Daydream is a work by a tourist. It’s nice to see the sights and sounds of a specific culture, but it should dig more into the material, and Moonage Daydream doesn’t do that. The film is a scrapbook for the Bowie fanatic such as me, but even I need something with nutrients and vitamins. For one, I think it would take the talent of Edgar Wright, who did such a remarkable job on Sparks with his The Sparks Brothers documentary by covering and commenting on each Sparks album. Now that film is a proper music film. The Bowie narrative is a long and dense tale, and Morgan doesn’t go that route at all, which is understandable. But we don’t need repeated (the same) scenes of him going up and down an escalator in Asia or the repeated images from one of his Outside videos.
The audience sees the cultural reference points by images of The Velvet Underground, Little Richard, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, Luis Bunūel & Salvador Dali’s Un Chien Andalou, and the great Kenneth Anger film Scorpio Rising. It never talks specifically about these artists or movies, but one can gather that they made an impression on Bowie. There is something very anti-intellectual about having a film of images that come empty, but of course, they have a charge because it is the very much missed, David Bowie.
The one thing I do like is Tony Visconti's touches or his sound design in the remix of the Bowie songs. Morgan seems to have zero interest in the iconic recordings of such albums as Low and the mysterious sessions for Next Day, and the last Bowie recording, Blackstar. Still, there are those not mentioned by name or image, such as Angie Bowie, a mega-influence on the Ziggy decade, or Kenneth Pitt and Mick Ronson. The film consistently does not give out ‘named’ credit in the film itself (although in the end, Morgan credits all the musicians he toured with, tour-by-tour); he does mention the importance of Terry, David’s half-brother, and even Iman. I love Iman and Terry, but if they are mentioned, so should the others. The beauty of Bowie is that he was a great collaborator in the sense of the magnificent Duke Ellington. Ellington was the engine, and so was Bowie. It’s understandable that there are many documentaries about Bowie working with others and that Morgan would want to do something different for his Bowie film, but still just image after image, and again repeats of the same image, becomes meaningless after a while. And one thing one doesn’t want is a meaningless Bowie presence in his documentary.
The voice-over for the film is Bowie, and mostly he comments on spirituality and the role that it plays in his career. There is some bio, especially regarding his relationship with his family and half-brother. Mostly we see footage of Bowie on stage (all good), and then countless footage of him walking somewhere in Asia; I suspect Thailand during his Serious Moonlight Tour. Moonage Daydream reminds me of a Carny sideshow act in a carnival, where the barker yells only a quarter for the crowd gathering in front of the theater entrance. One’s participation and excitement are pretty high, which is how I felt when I purchased my ticket to this film.
Moonage Daydream, by design, is not meant to be the final word on Bowie (thank god) nor credit those who contribute to his success, but even that, the film is flat. It’s all smoke and mirrors, and compared to Bowie's other biographies and recordings, this film is a distant cousin. It shouldn’t be because Morgan had the key to the Bowie collection of images and sounds, yet, he made it into a Circus du Soleil show that has everything to do with the nostalgia for Bowie but not his substance. I’m always happy to see David Bowie on a big screen, but I wished it was more of a masterpiece than just a piece of product. The real thrill of Bowie’s work is through the recordings of his live shows and albums. But comparing this documentary to watching a Bowie music video such as Blackstar is a more profound and emotionally moving experience. Morgan’s film is empty, and I feel cheated that there is not a better film made out of this exclusive footage.
I enjoyed the spectacle, the sound and the flash - I've been to see it twice - but I know what you mean and I think that Tommy would have agreed with you, Tosh. A lot of the footage was stuff we were already familiar with: Cracked Actor and TWFTE ... I saw an interview with the director and he more or less said he deliberately made it to be pretty dumb and glitzy. I was dazzled to see the He's-Smashing girl on the giant IMAX screen. Tommy would have loved that at least. I cried my eyes out when Starman came on at the end credits... almost entirely my own grief at the dire absence of my favourite Bowie officionado.
Brilliant review of a movie that could have been so much and was a bad version of the Little Engine That Could. Bowie would have been deeply disappointed at the missed opportunity to shine the light on his diverse influences and how they strung together. At least he captured Bowie's humor and candor about what it's like to be an artist on the planet and manages to touch upon his vast creative explorations and how they tied together. There was way too much time wasted on trite visual crap that could have been Bowie talking or performing.