The latest film about glam rock star Marc Bolan is an odd amalgamation of archival footage and new tribute performances. With no narrator and no clear goal, writer/director Ethan Silverman’s end product comes off more like an extended promo for the 2020 tribute album of the same name than a biography of Bolan’s life and career. That’s not to say it’s not entertaining or informative, just a warning that it probably isn’t what most viewers are expecting.
Buy Angelheaded Hipster: The Songs of Marc Bolan & T. Rex DVDThe film opens with a new appreciation by Billy Idol as he recounts his teen mind being blown by seeing Bolan live in the early ‘70s. The music made an impact, but Bolan’s protopunk attitude toward the unruly crowd that initially despised him was one of Idol’s watershed moments. Even Ringo Starr and Elton John pop in to offer some recent kind words, but the most affecting reminiscences are provided via archival interviews with longtime cohort and occasional rival David Bowie.
The tribute performances start off promisingly with the almighty U2 in a recording studio laying down a propulsive cover of “Bang a Gong (Get It On)”, except that the resulting song isn’t on the CD, replaced by a limp cabaret-style version by David Johansen. I’d watch a documentary on that peculiar story alone. Equally strange, the film features footage of Macy Gray recording a cover of “Children of the Revolution”, but the final CD version of the song is performed by Kesha, who does not appear in the film.
As for the tribute artists who make the cut in both the film and CD, I was most moved by Nick Cave’s earnest and stripped-down rendition of “Cosmic Dancer,” apparently a popular take as it’s the most streamed song in the collection by far. On the other end of the popularity spectrum, I adored John Cameron Mitchell’s achingly sweet and understated take on lesser-known song “Diamond Meadows.” He’s also the biggest surprise in the artist list, although his glam cred as the creative force behind Hedwig and the Angry Inch more than qualifies his inclusion.
But enough about the film’s album marketing, let’s get back to Bolan. Silverman doesn’t attempt to present a life story, he instead cobbles together an impressive array of archival performance and interview footage of Bolan in his prime. This allows Bolan to tell his own story in a way, and provides a wealth of filmed evidence of his trendsetting brilliance. There’s not much information about the formation or dissolution of T. Rex, just scenes of them rocking out through various TV appearances. Silverman isn’t interested in what forces formed Bolan or his legacy, he just dusts off the archives to present Bolan at his best in both performances and candid interviews.
The principal DVD bonus features are complete Nick Cave and Joan Jett song performances and exclusive interviews. The disc also includes the theatrical trailer and an audio commentary track with Silverman. I guess I should listen to the commentary someday to find out if he sheds any light on the U2 and Macy Gray mysteries.
While the film is simply too jumbled to make for a satisfying whole, and the tribute performances vary widely in quality, its wealth of Bolan archival footage fully reveals his irreplaceable magic.
