I approached this with some trepiastion. What was “the Final Act”?

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Was it Blackstar? an album much lauded in my view simply because of the extraordinary circumstances in which it was made by an extraordinary musical artist. Beyond the title track, “Heathen “ and the “Next Day” are far stronger collections of songs.

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Is the knowledge that your death is imminent a  positive creative spur, or an imperative to do what you can with what you have where you are?

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Then there are the protagonists. Were they chosen because they had valuable insights, or because they themselves were  ,marketable, therefore making the film more marketable?

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The significance of Blackstar as a concept is well explored, as is Bowie as a modern standard bearer for the artistic, an spiritual  journey of us all.

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The promoter john Giddings view on David’s foray into Tin Machie was risible. Reeves Gabrel’s recollections way off beam, mainly in his anticipation of his own ability. Viv Goldman’s belief that th negative reviews took a pick axe to David’s ego- is absurd.

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Visconti ,and Wakeman ( looking unnervingly like a retired Sergeant Major), make the shrewdest observations.  Dana Gillespie is delightfully humble and unassuming. Her estimation of Angie’s contribution to  his stylistic metamorphosis generous. Gary Kemp the perfect voice piece for the fans.

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The music journalist’s verdict on Tin Machine- that they hoped it would go away, was amusing- as they did.

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The narrative arc is not chronological, but still contains some gems- not least some wonderful footage of a Young Americans performance with a stellar backing vocal team.

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Goldie adds nothing to the story ,Moby does. David’s prescient interview with Paxman about the Internet continues to astonish and amaze- the significance of his Glastonbury show is overstated. The magnificence of his performance is not. He sachays on with a supreme fey nonchalance imploring us to  “Love me love me say you do”. Of course we do David!

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Slicky excels- David is not the only one who smiles when Earl launches into “Stay”. He, Garson and Visconti emerge as David’s soul mates. Visconti’s  mealy mouthed refusal to mention Co Co Schwab by name is curious, the vignette of the meeting in which Bowie reveals his illness, heart warming and poignant.

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I do not think this film will win David any new fans, but to aficionados and the cognoscenti,  it is indispensable.

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