| TOP OF SITE | TOP OF ISSUE | TOP OF SECTION |
| PREVIOUS STORY | NEXT STORY |
|
'Goldmine' is the Real McCoy By Shan Mukhtar I don't know Alex, I'm just a girl ATLANTA November 20, 1998
 To most movie-goers, the name Todd Haynes is not significant, and perhaps not even familiar. In the world of independent filmmaking however this writer director has built quite a reputation as a post modern storyteller. Haynes' take on his characters and their social discontent is part fantasy and part cold introspection. Think of an under-the-sheets conversation between the Brothers Grimm, Virginia Woolf, and William Gibson, and you've got a pretty clear idea of the internal discourse and external aesthetic that is a Todd Haynes film.
Sound like a lot to swallow? Well don't despair, because aside from being heavy on the literary allusions, Haynes' work is also very watchable (but be warned, a fragile psyche, i.e. one that will be shattered by images of male homosexuality, will not fare well in Todd Haynes' world).
The director's latest project, "Velvet Goldmine," is similar to his past
endeavors such as "Safe" (which starred Julianne Moore) and "Poison". In a typically 'Haynesian' manner, Velvet Goldmine analyzes the idealistic and destructive (not to mention good-looking) fire storm of swinging seventies glam-rock and rockers. Note though that this is neither a Cliff's Notes version of the pop era nor a melodramatic modern epic.
Superficially, Haynes' Goldmine is bound together with shameless beauty, heartbreaking imagery, and sincere homage to Oscar Wilde. At its core, though, the film is told with a distance that does not let you indulge in any emotional frivolity.
Haynes is a sympathetic narrator, but not a participant in the events he chronicles. The result is a film that chooses to poke your heart with little push pins instead of with a sword.
Velvet Goldmine begins at the height of glam-rock madness in 1974. At the center of it all is the fictional rock god, Brian Slade (played by the deadly attractive Jonathan Rhys-Meyers). Slade is the man who starts it all, and sells it all - sexual ambiguity, glittering make-up, and platforms to match. Suddenly, all of England looks like a David Bowie cut-out.
But the ride doesn't last long. Minutes into the film, we see Slade
sabotaging his life and his career by faking his own murder in grand glam style, while on stage. Needless to say, fans are not amused, and this
sweetheart of the velvet goldmine disappears off the face of the earth,
as does 70s British rock.
Fast-forward ten years. It's now the 80s, and glamour is as scarce as
social welfare. Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale), a journalist and a child of 'Slade fanaticism,' is given the task of answering the question, "Whatever
happened to Brian Slade?" Arthur dives into Slade's life by way of narratives from his ex-manager, his ex-wife (Toni Collette), as well as through brief encounters with Slade's recording partner and lover, Curt Wild (the always impressive Ewan McGregor).
The picture of Slade that comes through is just that, a picture. What
Arthur finds is a man whose life careened between total rejection and
complete exultation. This singer who by the end of the film has had four different names, and whose image has powered the idolatry of an entire decade, eventually loses himself in his fabricated world. To his fans, and even to those close to him, Slade is a ghost, a phantom of a time that would never return. But the loss of Slade's glittering idealism means more to Arthur and to this film than just being the end of a pop star. It represents an end to the sexual freedom that Slade popularized. The distinction is apparent when you see Arthur as a 70s teenager, with long hair, make-up, and campy jewelry, reveling in the sensuality of Slade and therein discovering his own sexuality. Compare that to the adult Arthur, blatantly somber in dress and demeanor, hiding himself behind various repressed shades of grey.
Haynes sometimes delves too deeply in Arthur's own discontent, and in doing so takes emphasis away from the "Citizen Kane" rhythm behind Arthur's search for Slade. But small shortcomings aside, this is a top-notch filmmaking, in every sense of the word.
Toni Collette and Ewan McGregor give grounded support to Rhys-Meyer's ethereal performance as the elusive Slade. And while most descriptions of this film describe McGregor's Wild as an "Iggy Pop" character, those of us who are children of the 80s will more closely identify his blonde hair and raspy voice with Kurt Cobain.
The resemblance is at times chilling, especially in one scene during which Wild is performing on stage. What's also interesting to note is that McGregor and Rhys-Meyers
belted out many of the film's songs themselves (and did so surprisingly well).
It's true that Haynes is not the most accessible of writers or directors. His commitment to a distinct form of storytelling is both beautiful and harrowing. If it's easy gratification you seek, this film is definitely not the way to go. But if you're in the mood for a little cinematic adventure into the vision of a brilliant and enduring filmmaker, you will not be disappointed. Hey, if nothing else, you can walk around saying you saw movie that was produced by Michael Stipe.
|
Copyright © 1998 by Gregory S. Scherrer, Editor and by the Student Publications Board
submit a letter to the Editor
e-mail the Entertainment Editor with a comment about this story
e-mail the Online Editor if there's a technical problem with this page