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Rating: In the beginning there was a former Beatle.
Or rather a former Beatle and his passion for cinema.
In the beginning there was Ringo Starr, that is:
- the only Beatle still alive (if you believe the legends about Paul McCartney)
- the least talented of the Beatles
- the most "multimedia" of the Beatles
- the Beatle with the camera (like Boldi in that firefighter film from a few years ago)
In short, in the beginning, there were Ringo, his camera, and his desire to repeat the success and great reviews (I'm joking, of course) received years earlier, in 1967, for the direction of Magical Mystery Tour.
This time, with the psychedelic bus retired along with all the Fab Four, the crazy passengers, the dwarf, and the fat aunt, Ringo tried again and embarked on the filming of this docu-rock intended to capture live the peak of the new star of Made in England music of those early seventies, a name now almost forgotten today: Marc Bolan.
Who was Marc Bolan?
Well, imagine a cross between our Renato Zero (for the makeup), Rino Gaetano (for the musicality and the top hat, the colorful jackets, etc.) and ... Stefania Rotolo (who remembers her?). Or imagine a kind of Harry Potter with long curly hair who preferred to wield a guitar instead of a magic wand.
The fact is that by 1967, four long years had passed but during that period, for the first time since the Beatles, England was experiencing a new state of popular delirium. T.Rex and Marc Bolan, his ballads, his boogie, his bold provocations (the shy acoustic folk past forgotten) were a mass phenomenon under everyone's attention. The usurper of the Glam crown, David "Golden Dawn" Bowie, was still distant.
All of this Ringo decided to preserve for posterity in this film which, directed with all the affection of a Pygmalion for his favorite disciple, should be considered above all a historical document, as well as very useful for those wanting to learn more about Bolan's figure. In short, a "reportage" from the hot front of Bolanmania, with various highlights.
Like that piece of concert where Marc plays and sings an Elvis song accompanied by Starr himself on drums and Elton John on the piano. Or the one where frenzied fans are removed from the stage (one of them might be the one mentioned by Bowie in "Lady Stardust"?) during a performance of "Telegram Sam". Or that little funny interlude with Bolan performing in sequence "Jeepster", "Cosmic Dancer", and "Get It On" in an "rustic and acoustic" format accompanied by a rather bizarre string quartet. Until the end of the film documents a performance, this time electrified and intense, again of "Get It On", with all the T.Rex members hitting hard on their instruments and Bolan letting out his legendary screams and strumming the strings of his Les Paul.
What is clearly not documented in this film, because Ringo could never have imagined it, is the absurd death that Marc Bolan met in 1977, just at the moment when his star, dimmed for a few years after a period of great splendor, seemed on the verge of shining again powerfully in the Punk constellation.
At this point, I have a question.
Why do we die?
We die because if we all continued to live forever, there would be no room on Earth for new births and the genetic recombination necessary for the evolution of the human race.
Why do we die?
We die because sometimes we become tired of living.
Why do we die?
Because everyone does.
Why do we die?
Because we forget from a very young age that we were born immortal.
Why do we live?
In homage and on behalf of all those who would have liked to live forever and lived only long enough to desire it.
And FUCK death...
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