The Man Who Fell to Earth is a daring exploration of science fiction as an art form. The story of an alien on an elaborate rescue mission provides the launching pad for Nicolas Roeg’s visual tour de force, a formally adventurous examination of alienation in contemporary life. Rock legend David Bowie, in his acting debut, completely embodies the title role, while Candy Clark, Buck Henry, and Rip Torn turn in pitch-perfect supporting performances.—The Criterion Collection
London-born Nicolas Roeg served in the military as a projectionist, and entered the movie industry immediately after World War II as a gofer and apprentice editor. He joined MGM’s British studios in 1950, and eventually became a cinematographer in 1959, working on a multitude of films of all types, from second unit work on Lawrence of Arabia (1962) to primary photography on the rock & roll exploitation films Just for Fun (1963), Every Day’s a Holiday (1965), and The System (1966). He moved into the director’s chair with Performance (1970), which he co-directed with Donald Cammell, and made a major impression with the low-keyed, eerily compelling drama Walkabout (1971). By the mid-‘70s, Roeg was one of England’s most respected filmmakers, responsible for the unsettling thriller Don’t Look Now (1973), and the sci-fi drama The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976). With the possible exception Insignificance (1985) and the compellingly obscure Track 29 (1988) Roeg’s output throughout the 1980s… read more
Roeg has generally decreased in stature as my tastes have changed, but this film has remained his most constant. Is it his chronological ellipses, each tragic in their loss of ideals and hope, every new, artificial wrinkle adding levels of loneliness and despair. Is it my increased experience with Bowie? This film is an exceptional formal exercise, probing modern alienation. Regardless of its slightly aging aesthetic, it remains a masterwork.
Its blistering '70s-ness is both its biggest appeal and ultimately its greatest downfall.
I walked out of this movie four times. I thought it was terrible, but had nowhere to go, and therefore kept returning to the theatre. I'm not even sure this will be one of the movies that grows to be understandable and enjoyable with time, as most movies I initially dislike eventually become, but I'll find out soon enough.
Revisiting the icon’s impact on pop and, to a lesser degree, of course, cinema.
With Insignificance (1985) out from Criterion last week (see the roundup), The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) opening at Film Forum in New York
"It's much easier to run a hospital with all the patients sleeping." “Easiest way to run the world, for that matter.” The Final Programme