DA Pennebaker’s record of David Bowie’s final concert on the Ziggy Stardust tour at London’s Hammersmith Odeon in 1973 (Bowie is part of the reason we will never be reconciled to saying “Eventim Apollo”) is rereleased after a restoration. It was the legendary “all killer no filler” gig at which, in the presence of the Spiders from Mars – Mick Ronson (guitar), Trevor Bolder (bass), Mick Woodmansey (drums) – he retired his Ziggy Stardust persona, announcing to a stunned crowd that it was the last time he would ever play (as Ziggy).
The show itself, in which Bowie and band members appear starkly key-lit in darkness, with the crowd glimpsed briefly and almost stroboscopically, looks intriguingly intimate, like something at a much smaller club venue. The concert is straightforward and almost minimalist in its staging and Bowie’s cheeky theatrical genius and rackety exotica has something panto about it. Often, the piano and sax lines in Changes give the event a Vegas-residency feel, although no Vegas residency, even in 1973, would be so austerely presented. (Aladdin Sane is incidentally, along with “the Beatles”, a phrase which has transcended its own wordplay origins.)
We periodically see Bowie in his dressing room, smoking fags and exchanging relaxed badinage with wife Angie (“You’re just a girl, what do you know about makeup?”). It is possible to feel a kind of awe for the assistants who had the honour of helping Bowie’s body in and out of the various costumes; assistants whose intimacy with greatness is all the more stunning for being so casual. An unassuming Ringo Starr is seen in the corner of the dressing room in one shot.
On stage, the songs are so familiar yet they are given a new raw immediacy in the film. When Bowie sings in Space Oddity: “Tell my wife I love her very much she knows”, the last two words are a kind of wondering afterthought, a parenthesis, a murmured micro-soliloquy commenting on his final desperate message; the terrible lonely dignity of this married man is very moving. Out of the blue, Bowie has created someone from the non-rebellious class, one of the mamas and papas who back on Earth are being driven insane by their pretty-thing children.
Other moments grab you: are you supposed to laugh when Time “falls wanking to the floor”? I think it is supposed to be funny at some level. In My Death, his cold-eyed headshake on “Angel or devil, I don’t care” is arresting. There is an epic guitar solo from Ronson during The Width of a Circle, and also some wacky mime from Bowie. He segues into a vocal sample of the Beatles’ Love Me Do, during The Jean Genie – another inspired touch. Bowie also brings on guest guitarist Jeff Beck, whose pairing with the blond-mopped Ronson puts an unworthy and even blasphemous thought into my head: were they the inspiration for Nigel Tufnel and David St Hubbins? As it happens, Bowie cheekily compares Ronson to Suzi Quatro.
It is wonderful when at the final iconic moment in the spotlight, some fans get on to the stage and hug Bowie and he is entirely easygoing and unprecious about it. How amazing to have seen this live.
• Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars is released on 3 July in cinemas, and on 11 August on Blu-ray/CD.
