Velvet Goldmine (R) ** 1/2 (out of ****)
As reviewed by Michael Delinqua
After the disco debacle that was 54, early signs seemed to indicate that Miramax was about to commit another cinematic crime against a 1970s music movement, glam rock, with Todd Haynes's Velvet Goldmine. The air of anticipation surrounding it became something decidedly mixed once the film premiered at Cannes, leaving audiences either hot or cold and garnering the prize for "Best Artistic Contribution"--which sounded like a (pardon my brusqueness) bullshit consolation award if I ever heard one. But after seeing the film, the Cannes award doesn't seem so bogus after all; Velvet Goldmine is a true feast for the senses, a strange but ceaselessly fascinating barrage of music and imagery. The problem is, that's all it is--words, pictures, and sound, with nothing in the center to hold it all together.
For those of you unfamiliar with it, glam rock was a Brit-centered '70s music movement, which, ironically enough, had just about nothing to do with music itself. Unlike disco, there is no distinct sound to glam rock; the term was more a description of an attitude and a mode of dress: flashy costumes, high platform heels, glitter makeup, and a general look of androgyny--with the ambiguous sexuality to match; in short, sort of a "flamboyant bisexual chic."
Unlike 54, which didn't seem to have a clue as to what disco was, Velvet Goldmine nails the glam rock milieu. Haynes revels in all its gaudy, garish glory, and not just by showcasing a lot of elaborately campy, vampy musical performances by his central character, fictional glam rock pioneer Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys Meyers, who does his own singing). The air of bold excess extends to the equally glittery visual style created by Haynes, cinematographer Maryse Alberti, and editor James Lyons, whichemploys quick edits, dreamlike imagery, and an appropriate air of surrealism--after all, it was a time of almost surreal sexual freedom, openness, and self-indulgence. (One scene has Haynes reverting to his old Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story tricks, staging one scene entirely with dolls.)
Haynes has an obvious affection for the era, and perhaps it is that passion for the glamour that distracted him from coming up with a compelling story. Velvet Goldmine traces the rise and fall of Brian, whose life and mysterious disappearance is investigated in 1984 by reporter Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale), who has tried to live down his days as a glam rock groupie. Ironically, though, the more Arthur and, in turn, the audience learns more about Slade, the more it becomes clear that, underneath all the makeup and sequins, he's not a very interesting personality--that is, if he even has one. He sings and dresses up, but it is never clearly defined who he exactly is. Taking much more vivid shape are the people in his life, such as American glam rocker Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor, also providing his own vocals), with whom Brian has a sordid sexual relationship; Brian's greedy manager Jerry Devine (Eddie Izzard); and especially Brian's bitter American, Brit-wannabe wife Mandy (Toni Collette, in the film's best performance). Another writing misstep is the clunky, forced way Haynes directly ties Arthur's past to Brian's; it would have been less contrived if Arthur were simply a fan on the fringes.
Haynes does achieve what he sets out to do with Velvet Goldmine, which, according to the press notes, is to make "a valentine to the sounds and images that erupted in and around London in the early 1970s." But he should have also thought to make something more than an affectionate valentine--in other words, a fully realized and developed film.
Movie Reviews by Michael Delinqua