The Man Who Fell To Earth

David Bowie strikes dramatic poses, wears elegant suits and dandified hats, and frolics (really?) nude (really.) in this artfully rendered but extremely boring film. There's jarringly awkward music, purposeful lens flare, and surprisingly little dialogue. There's also copious blue eyeshadow, gold metal-flake motorcycle helmets, a train with wings seemingly made of cheese in the desert, a scene where a prone motion-sick Bowie gets dragged out of an elevator by his arm and carried down a hallway, a scene where the Thin White Duke watches 9 TVs at once, and a scene where Ziggy Stardust knocks a plate of cookies into the sky. I'm not sure why any of this happens. It's beautifully shot pretension, sort of like 2001: A Space Odyssey only gooier. There's an old saying, "An ounce of pretension is worth a pound of crap.". If that's the case, this film might weigh 12 pounds. I watched The Man Who Fell To Earth on Netflix in a crystal clear Criterion print, and I probably should have just listened to the album Low for the millionth time instead. Here's a trailer: