What happens when a film dares to drape itself in sequins, sex, and the raw ache of identity, yet refuses to play it safe? Velvet Goldmine (1998), Todd Haynes’ audacious love letter to glam rock’s feverish pulse, doesn’t just ask it demands you feel the answer. This isn’t a biopic of David Bowie (though Brian Slade, played with mercurial brilliance by Jonathan Rhys Meyers, winks at Ziggy Stardust). It’s a kaleidoscopic plunge into the 1970s’ glitter-soaked rebellion, where identity is both costume and confession.

Haynes’ direction is the film’s beating heart. He doesn’t just recreate glam rock’s era; he conjures a fever dream of it, blending Brechtian theatrics with a journalist’s quest (Christian Bale’s Arthur Stuart, chasing Slade’s vanished legacy). The nonlinear storytelling jumping from 1984 to the 1970s feels like flipping through a vinyl collection, each scene a track that hums with longing. But it’s not flawless: the narrative can sag under its own ambition, occasionally losing focus in its swirl of ideas. Still, Haynes’ boldness staging a faux assassination or a rooftop serenade keeps you hooked, even when the plot frays.

The cinematography, by Maryse Alberti, is pure alchemy. Every frame drips with saturated pinks, golds, and purples, turning dive bars into cathedrals and stage lights into cosmic bursts. It’s not just pretty; it’s tactile you can almost feel the velvet and sweat. Pair that with the score, a heady mix of original tracks and glam anthems from Roxy Music to T. Rex, and you’re not watching a film you’re living in it. The music doesn’t just underscore; it seduces, making every glance between Slade and Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor, raw and electric) feel like a spark in a powder keg.

Why does Velvet Goldmine still matter? In 2025, when identity and performance are dissected daily on platforms like X, the film’s exploration of fluidity sexual, artistic, human feels prescient. It’s not subtle, but neither is desire. Its flaws (a sometimes-murky plot, uneven pacing) only amplify its humanity: this is a film that risks everything to say something true. For today’s audiences, raised on curated personas and viral reinventions, it’s a reminder that authenticity often hides behind the boldest masks. Watch it, and let it unravel you.