Word: stardusted
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...lady or the tiger? That is, which became frightened by the lights at the Stardust Hotel in Las Vegas where Looking to Get Out was being filmed, and who looked-successfully-for a way to get out? Well, it wasn't Ann-Margret, who stars in the movie as a prostitute with a heavy past. She remained in focus along with Co-Stars Jon Voight, Burt Young, and the magic team of Siegfried and Roy. The tiger felt better out of the glare of the klieg lights and was only reluctantly coaxed back on camera. But the temporary escape...
...later personal traumas are not so much dramatized as displayed like flash cards for predictable audience response. As the screenplay loses its energy, so does most everything else. Apted's direction takes on the facile, rushed quality of his 1975 film about the rise of a rock star, Stardust. Spacek's big scene, her onstage breakdown, is so imprecisely drawn that she has no chance to duplicate the pathos Ronee Blakley brought to a fictive version of the same incident in Nashville...
...Bowie has always made his best music when he assumes a persona--that's become one of the cliches of rock journalism, but it's true. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars defined a hard-hitting, loud, fast rock sound four years before the Ramones hit the road. To make that album in 1972, Bowie set himself up as the glittery, self-destructive androgyne Ziggy. More masks followed, dizzingly, along with more fine albums--Aladdin Sane, Diamond Dogs, Station to Station, and a popular if antiseptic excursion into Philadelphia funk, Young Americans. Then...
Ballroom. While it beats, the heart defies time. Dappled by the shimmering lights of the Stardust Ballroom, the couples whom Director-Choreographer Michael Bennett sends swirling across its floor are cradled in hopes and dreams unmocked by middle age. An entrancing musical with a rare grace note of affection...
...begins with his older stuff, "Ziggy Stardust" and songs from that album like "Five Years," leaving on the rock riffs and self-consciously-confused lyrics. The sound quality will strike fans of the vinyl Bowie as poor; his lushly-produced effects get stripped down to what a seven-man band can handle on stage. Bowie's vocal machinations, so clever and startling out of the studio, lose some of their sparkle when forced to follow one another in sequence. The side has a nightclub feel, like a good band at Jack's going through some of Bowie's old hits...