The prospect of an immersive exhibition is enough to bring any Londoner out in an allergy — involuntary spasms, nausea, all-consuming dread — and yet despite it all I wept at the end of this one. How and why?
David Bowie: You’re Not Alone is essentially a documentary about the ascended Starman, akin to Brett Morgan’s 2022 magnificent film Moonage Daydream in that it is narrated with Bowie’s own voice, and tries to understand the visionary at work in a non-linear way rather than any traditional album-by-album approach.
Yet this documentary has of course been designed for the Lightroom’s 360-degree, 12 metre-high screens and is delivered with such swagger that the experience is peculiarly, often viscerally, effective.
Lightroom is situated near Coal Drops Yard in that hard-to-love new yuppie-hipster development at the back of King’s Cross (ah remember the good old pre-gentrified days of peril and terror) and is part of a growing international scene of immersive venues. But with previous shows by David Hockney and the popular The Moonwalkers: A Journey with Tom Hanks, Lightroom has built a reputation of artistry towards its subjects. And what could be another cheap bit of Bowie exploitation is actually delivered with a surprising amount of grace.
Curiosity was his secret weapon
Writer and director Mark Grimmer comes with the clout of being the creative director for the V&A’s David Bowie Is exhibition, one of the final major works involving Bowie himself, and he has managed to meld rare archive footage with big showstopping moments in a manner which will satisfy fans and casuals alike. But often the experience is simply so huge and loud that you are helpless before its might.
The hour-long show transports you through different thematic chapters revolving around things like his working practices and his theatricality. It’s a looping presentation, you can drop in at any time, and watch it as many times as you wish, but there is a narrative that builds and watching the full thing from its start is recommended. While it is non-linear, we are first taken into suburban Bromley in the 1950s, where Bowie grew up in a council-block environment which he calls “bleak, almost Orwellian”, which is soundtracked by Purcell’s Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary.
We move inside to his living room (and with the totality of the visuals on the floor and the walls, it can feel as if you are actually moving; at one point I nearly fell of my bench), where Bowie heard Little Richard’s She’s Got It on the radio which turned his world Technicolor.
We then skip over his early 1960s attempts at fame (shame, there’s some gems) into the 1970s for a look at how his chameleonic reputation was developed, as he danced from Ziggy Stardust to Aladdin Sane to The Thin White Duke et al. But it is all firmly presented from Bowie’s perspective, who reflects on his flitting “grasshopper” tendencies with amusement but clarifying that, “curiosity is my secret… my enthusiasms drive me.” There’s a brilliant piece of awkward footage from a Russell Harty interview, with Bowie giving the loathsome interviewer short shrift for his reductive, “What will you be wearing…? what colour is your hair?” comments, as if he were a circus freak. In the voiceover, Bowie describes himself as very shy, with these characters allowing him to suddenly express himself. And yet such was his earnest enthusiasm that he delivered these characters, “all the way… straight down the line.”
And it is here that the show justifies itself. Bowie achieved such huge artistic success because he was so utterly committed to his ideas. And the show delivers the presentation of these ideas with such force that it’s almost like feeling them for the first time.
A pure rock ’n’ roll rush
The performances of a choice cut of his biggest songs are huge moments. Cutting between footage from different eras, we have the likes of Space Oddity, Heroes and Let’s Dance delivered in a completely encompassing way that you have something like the physical rush of actually being in the audience.
The format also works surprisingly well in delivering the emotion in his music. With the performances writ so large you can see right in his eyes. He tells us he has always been an outsider, that he fundamentally makes music for “anyone who is weird, or feels different to normal society”. And ultimately his message is for them — the dazzling end to the show is
Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide played at the final Ziggy show at Hammersmith Odeon in 1973, with its closing refrain of “you’re not alone, just turn on with me, and you’re not alone.” Somehow this immersive monstrosity delivers the heart of Bowie to you in a way that leaves you breathless.
David Bowie: You’re Not Alone is at Lightroom until Oct 10
