Review of Velvet Goldmine (1998) by Reece L — 12 Dec 2015

Velvet Goldmine is gay with a capital "G" and features several pretty dudes in skin-tight leotards and should therefore appeal to me, but its sloppy, insanely excessive (yes, yes, it should feel appropriate given the subject but it just feels bloated and indulgent) execution renders it a dull, overwhelming sit.

It borrows a central narrative device from Citizen Kane that forces the film to exhibit several qualities that parodies of musical biopics like to riff on ("It was 1975..."), reducing a visually ambitious work to something that feels familiar in a way that's unfortunate given Haynes' vision.

Its adoption of a "more is more" approach to style regularly results in superfluous sequences that drag on for too long, something that wouldn't have happened if this had been filmed in the low-budget way that this sort of material warrants.

This idea presents another problem; for such a bold, sexually adventurous quasi-subject (the lack of actual Bowie material is yet another setback), it feels narratively tame, proving that this sort of story would've faired better in the hands of someone like Derek Jarman who'd have been willing to make a polarizing, excessive film without sacrificing brevity and without resorting to expensive filmic trickery.

I can't not like a Todd Haynes film, so I found enough here to warrant a recommendation (it's admirable that he's tried to make a tribute to all of queer rock/art and how it helps younger generations of gay kids, for example), but it's certainly not one of his better outings nor should it be considered the cornerstone of glittery gay cinema as it is in certain corners of the internet.