TIFF 2022 | MOVIE REVIEW: "Moonage Daydream"; Worshipping at the Feet of David Bowie
10/12 ForReel Score | 4/5 Stars
“The church of man love is such a holy place to be.”
- David Bowie, ‘Moonage Daydream’
One of the most formative memories of my teenage years took place in a smoke-filled attic when I was 15. My friend Isaih and I had hotboxed this room, filling our lungs with the residuals of a substance that usually prevents such memories from being formed. But that day, in particular, I remember because in that hazy state Isaih gifted me his classic vinyl of David Bowie’s Heroes. It’s lived with me since, framed, worshipped, in every place I’ve called home.
Now, a new Bowie memory has formed as a foundational moment in my life: Moonage Daydream, my first in-person TIFF screening. Brett Morgan’s acid-dipped documentary on the man and myth that is David Bowie (and his many personas) is as hazy, fun, and psychedelic as the best hotboxed attics. An eclectic montage of restored concert footage, Bowie interviews, and roughly every important piece of art of the 20th century (from Bergman to the Beatles) makes Moonage Daydream one of the most visually arresting films of the year.
It is also, especially for Bowie fans like myself, a bit of an emotional bulldozer. Its extensive runtime and lack of concrete chronology means you’re dropped blindly into the wonderland of a maestro lost too soon. David Bowie was always something of an enigma, and while there may be a strong urge to characterize the man, Morgan strays from that path and tells Bowie’s story as Bowie told it: fluidly.
Like all humans (even the ones considered “alien”) Bowie was a contradictive, nuanced mess. He always wore his heart on his sleeve, even if he put on the face of another. Moonage Daydream does the same. It captures the messy essence of Bowie - an essence that often turned his fans to fanatics - better than any biopic ever could.
Seeing Bowie in all his glory is, as mentioned, emotional. It’s exhilarating seeing him perform, of course, but it’s equally devastating watching him struggle to find his true identity - one entangled with a complicated sexuality, a menagerie of cosmic characters, and the gilded cage of fame. I couldn’t help but tear up while I hummed along to the (obviously) amazing soundtrack. That Morgan is able to capture that complex humanity and infect his audience just as Bowie did is no small feat.
“We’re the false prophets,” Bowie explains of rock stars in Moonage Daydream. “We’re the new gods.” David Bowie calling himself a “new god” is fittingly (and unsurprisingly) prophetic. Like all gods, Bowie is otherworldly, ethereal, impossible to define; a man of many names. But whatever you know the superstar as - David Bowie, The Thin White Duke, Ziggy Stardust, Major Tom - one thing is certain, you will get swept away in his flock. I did. Brett Morgan did.
That’s what it is to worship. And that makes Moonage Daydream something of a Holy experience.
