“I think the greatest mistake that civilization has made was to embrace order rather than chaos.” — David Bowie in Moonage Daydream
~
It’s eight p.m. on Black Friday, and I’m walking to catch the bus to go see “David Boobie,” a David Bowie tribute burlesque show at the Crystal Ballroom at the Somerville Theatre.
I’m halfway to the bus stop when I realize—shit—I forgot to blow out the candle in the kitchen. I don’t want to leave a candle burning in my empty apartment, but the next bus isn’t for another hour, after the show starts.
I change course entirely and go into 7/11 to take out cash, just in case this is the kind of show where the dancers take tips. I have no idea what I’m getting myself into tonight, but I’m trying this new thing where I embrace chaos.
It’s not surprising that I forgot to blow out the candle. I am a creature of habit. Small breaks in routine, like going out tonight, can make me spacey. Big breaks in routine can put me in panic mode.
Over the course of the pandemic, I’ve held even harder onto my routines, habits, and particular ways of doing things at home. They’ve become vices giving me a false feeling of control in an overall uncertain world.
After I have my cash, I walk home, and blow out the stupid candle. I think about taking half an Ativan, but I don’t know how long the show will be (more uncertainty!), and I don’t want to be too tired. Instead I drink some Diet Coke and call a Lyft.
~
I’ve been a David Bowie superfan since I was about twelve years old. I could write a whole manifesto about what Bowie means to me and his varied significance in my life. That’s why when I heard about Moonage Daydream, a new Bowie documentary that came out in September, I was excited, but also a bit skeptical.
I feared something like the 2020 biopic Stardust, which flopped (I never saw it). Bowie’s career doesn’t have a clear, singular narrative. To try to pin one down in a movie risks coming off as inauthentic.
It was only after I read rave reviews of Moonage Daydream from fellow Bowie fans that I decided to see it. I caught the last showing on a Wednesday night in the tiny moviehouse in the basement of the Somerville Theatre.
From the opening montage—images of outer space flashing alongside clips of Bowie music videos and concert footage, paired with “Hallo Spaceboy” (a 1995 song only Bowie fans are likely to recognize)—I thought, oh my God, was this movie made just for me?
It’s not just for me. But it is very specifically for Bowie fans like me.
Once I realized that this was going to be a nonlinear visual deep-dive into the Church of Bowie, I glanced around at the five other people in the theater. I wondered if they were Bowie freaks like me and feeling this same swell of joy. Anyone expecting Bohemian Rhapsody or Rocket Man was bound to be very confused.
The film is intentionally chaotic, loosely centered around changes in Bowie’s musical and artistic philosophy throughout his career. Most of it is concert footage, interviews, music videos, and movie clips.
I’d seen quite a lot of it before, like the infamous “There’s a fly floating around in my milk…” clip. Some of it overlaps with the 1973 documentary Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and the 1975 BBC documentary Cracked Actor.
And yet, somehow, it all felt new and fresh. I didn’t want the movie to end. The closest thing to a conclusion that the film offers is Bowie redacting a quote he once said about being in love feeling like a disease.
After the movie ended, I sat in my car for a bit, “Hallo Spaceboy” stuck in my head. The movie returned to the song throughout.
“This chaos is killing me” the song goes.
Why, of all the hundreds of Bowie songs to choose from, did they choose that one to focus on? Not the titular “Moonage Daydream.” Not even “Ziggy Stardust” or “Heroes” or “Changes” or any number of Bowie hits.
“And I want to be free. Don’t you want to be free?
Do you like girls or boys? It’s confusing these days.
But moondust will cover you, cover you…”
I thought of something else. Throughout the film, Bowie is rarely ever shown eating or drinking (except the milk, of course). He’s always shown working. Creating. Performing.
Did the man eat? When did he have time to eat? Did he ever cook or pick out his own groceries?
With such a fabulous wardrobe at all times, did he ever do laundry, or pick up dry cleaning? Or even shop for that matter? The film hardly mentions his first wife Angie or either of his kids. Did he ever have family meals?
Another big thing the movie doesn’t cover: Bowie’s serious cocaine addiction in the mid-70s and relapse in the 80s. It’s alluded to in clips where he appears untethered and unable to answer basic interview questions. Yet he’s never shown taking or talking about drugs.
These gaps—specifically the food and drugs—made me wonder.
Moonage Daydream portrays a life dedicated to art and expression. But there’s something to be said about the time and effort it takes just to be human. Bowie might’ve been an alien, but he lived on earth. And here, we only have 24 hours in a day. We have to eat and sleep. We have all sorts of struggles.
One of the most memorable parts of the film for me was a segment where they flashed through several of Bowie’s paintings, many he didn’t share while he was still alive.
The paintings, mostly portraits, are deeply unsettling, even scary. Nothing I’d ever want on my walls. If I didn’t know they were painted by favorite icon of all time, I would think they were made by someone quite disturbed.
“This chaos is killing me.”
In both its form and theme, Moonage Daydream celebrates chaos. In the Church of Bowie, chaos is sacred. It’s the natural state of being.
The film alludes to, but doesn’t fully address, the potential downsides to a chaotic way of life.
Since seeing the film, I’ve been wondering how I can call myself a David Bowie superfan and be so addicted to habit and order. Something isn’t right.
My partner has told me that she craves more chaos. She’s been moving us towards it, believing it will help me break free of the particularities that I’ve been clinging to so strongly for the past two years, as long as we’ve lived together. I can’t say I blame her. And I’ve been trying. But this chaos…
This chaos has caused several panic attacks.
This chaos has put me back into psychotherapy.
Sometimes it feels like this chaos might actually be killing me.
~
The “David Boobie” burlesque show on Black Friday ends up being nearly four hours long. I love every minute of it.
There’s no tipping after all, which feels wrong, especially with my seat which is in the aisle where a lot of the action ends up happening.
In the opening number, choreographed to none other than “Moonage Daydream,” a performer strips down to a g-string and silver nipple tassels. She twirls the tassels in my face before dropping to the floor. I think, “Woah, chaos is so hot!”
The dance interpretations of Bowie songs are varied and unexpected. There is no obvious chronology to the songs, which range from popular hits to deep cuts. The music is performed live by Niki Luparelli and her “all gxrl Total Blam Blam David Boobie Band.”
The dance to “Modern Love” begins with a Rick and Morty bath towel and pajamas and ends with a “Black Trans Lives Matter” t-shirt and pink leather jacket, with lots of undressing in between.
A performer dancing to “Changes” (a hard song to dance to, let alone strip to) is covered in tattoos. On stage, she shakes tassels on her ass (“assels” I learned they are called), “ACAB” tattooed across her cheeks.
I’m impressed with how Jareth the Goblin King can take off her shirt without losing her wig during “Magic Dance.”
Somehow I’ve ended up sharing a table with the most fashionable couple at the show—a woman in a suit and tie and her husband in a red jumpsuit and furry coat. Both wear platform heels and loads of makeup. I know they’re married because she keeps casually threatening to divorce him.
“Is this show what you were expecting?” I ask them during the first intermission.
“No,” the woman answers. “But I love surprises like this!”
The comedy in between performances is the “Harvard Turkey” who keeps walking around, pecking at patrons. On stage, she lays a glitter egg. Inside the egg is a large ziploc of white powder.
“Did you all know that David Bowie once lived off cocaine, peppers, and milk for a whole year?” Niki Luparelli asks the audience. Yes, us Bowie fans know.
We’re an odd crowd, a whole mix of ages and aesthetics. The majority of us are queer-presenting, and I’m not the only person who’s come alone.
Not only am I in the aisle, but I’m in front of a small aerial stage. At one point a dancer appears beside me wearing a wizard hat and robe. She hands me her wizard staff—a tree branch—before disrobing and climbing into the hoop where she swings practically nude to “Starman.” I cheer and clap as best I can with the big branch in my lap.
My favorite dance of the night is a group performance set to “Fashion.” The dancers turn the aisle into a runway. They strut up and down in uncoordinated outfits and in various states of undress.
There ends up being over a dozen dancers total, and their styles of burlesque are as varied as their bodies and costumes. One dancer is making her debut. Another has clearly done this for years and has fans in the audience. The only unifier in all of it, really, is Bowie.
What I’m trying to get at here is that this is all very chaotic.
And fun. Like with Moonage Daydream, I don’t want it to end.
When it does, it’s with an encore of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide,” how Bowie concluded many shows. Those of us who have stuck around this long know all the words.
“Don’t let the sun blast your shadow
Don’t let the milk float ride your mind
They’re so natural - religiously unkind
Oh no love! You're not alone!”
I don’t think I’m alone in my complicated relationship with chaos. I can’t help that I’m hardwired to like order. Order makes me feel comfortable and safe. But order alone doesn’t facilitate change and growth. And it’s not particularly great for creative thinking.
I know I need to make more room for chaos in my life. I’m still working on how to do that without starting fires, both literally (walking out on lit candles) and metaphorically.
Bowie has come to my aid before in such transitional times as these, and so it’s not a surprise that he’s back again, now in the forms of film and burlesque. Once more he’s helping me navigate this strange (and chaotic) experience of being alive.