Brett Morgen, so compelling with his documentary about Kurt Cobain ("Montage of Heck") and deft with his biography "Jane," now curates footage of David Bowie. And we are reminded that his early work includes one of our favorites, the ribald Robert Evans memoir "The Kid Stays in the Picture," 20 years ago.
MOONAGE DAYDREAM (B+) - This two-hour-plus video montage captures the unique essence of David Bowie, even if it is overwhelming in its otherness at times. This is a collage that shuns a conventional narrative -- no talking heads, no narrator (besides the voice of Bowie himself at times), no chronology of album released.
Director Brett Morgen skews toward his Cobain biography "Montage of Heck," exploring the soul and creativity of a unique figure in rock history. The first third of the film leans heavy on Bowie's gender-bending Ziggy Stardust phase. It's a stark reminder of just how provocative Bowie was at the time, but Morgen overstays his welcome in the early 1970s before finally shifting gears and following his star to Berlin for the late '70s trilogy of recordings with Brian Eno.
At times the film overwhelms the senses, with a few too many split screens and sonic mixes that border on cacophony. The timeline barely extends past the "Let's Dance" phenomenon and the stadium stardom of the mid-'80s and the TV commercial romps with Tina Turner. Morgen portrays Bowie as a renaissance auteur; Bowie's personal artwork is particular fascinating to see.
It is clear that David Bowie never made a false step in public, always perfectly coifed and filmed from just the right angle. He didn't leave behind an unappealing clip. In the end, of course, this comes down to the music, and Morgen thankfully makes off-beat choices for the soundtrack, including some extended live performances. Like Bowie did, Morgen puts forth a gestalt, somewhat of a polemic that makes the argument for Bowie's pristine form of genius.
THE KID STAYS IN THE PICTURE (2002) (A) - This one holds up as a thoroughly entertaining romp through the lens of one of the true characters who bridged the eras between Hollywood's Golden Age and the American New Wave, Robert Evans. The Paramount producer's memoirs had been a hit among A-listers in the '90s, and Morgen and co-diretor Nanette Burstein take a visually giddy approach to this string of randy stories.
Evans, who died in 2019, failed as an actor in the '50s but stuck as a studio executive, having a major hand in "Rosemary's Baby," "Love Story," "Marathon Man," "Chinatown" and "The Godfather," all box-office smashes and cinematic touchstones to this day. He was briefly married to "Love Story" star Ali MacGraw (whom he condescendingly refers to as Snot Nose) but famously lost her to Steve McQueen. He eventually got swept up tangentially in a cocaine scandal and a murder investigation, crashing and burning at Paramount until he revived his career as a producer in the late '90s with middling retreads like "The Saint" and "The Out-of-Towners."
But his CV is almost beside the point here. Evans was a notorious storyteller, stretching the truth more than Jane Fonda's aerobics leotards of the era. (A title card to the movie announces: "“There are three sides to every story: your side, my side, and the truth. And no one is lying.") He has a gravelly voice and tends to mumble, which makes it an inspired choice to use his voice from the audiobook as narration. (Stick around for the end credits to watch Dustin Hoffman's vulgar 1976 imitation of Evans.) Morgen and Burstein make photographs pop with animation effects, and they dig up some fascinating film footage, including outtakes from the set of "Rosemary's Baby."
Evans is a character, in every sense of the word. He is a throwback to the cigar-chomping blowhards of the past and the slick deal-makers who knew how to soothe the egos of movie stars and close cut-throat deals worth millions. He is full of himself but also self-deprecating. He's a hoot and a holler. Watching this movie is like doing lines with Jack Nicholson. Have a blast.
BONUS TRACKS
The Bowie doc's soundtrack is a refreshing mix of deep cuts and alternative takes (plus a live version of "Love Me Do" embedded in "The Jean Genie"). Here is "Hallo Spaceboy" from his mid-'90s limbo:
A more familiar track (and one of my favorites) is a single released from the "Lodger" LP in the middle of his Berlin period. "DJ" is where Brian Eno's production overlaps with Talking Heads of the same era.
The theme song that lilts through "The Kid Stays in the Picture" is Irving Berlin's wistful "What'll I Do":
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