The video to David Bowie’s “Blackstar” overpowered me immediately when it was released on 19 November last year. It is a visual poem and a symbolic feast. Despite the iconic yellow smiley face flashed at the viewer at the very beginning of it, it penetrates deep. The solar eclipse from the opening scene brought to mind the alchemical Black Sun, associated with death and putrefaction. The nigredo or the black stage in alchemy is the chaotic state in which all elements are separated and swirling around in a dance of creation and destruction. During the solar eclipse, when our star turns black, the ego becomes overshadowed and must yield its power to the serpentine forces of chaos and death. In the opening scenes, we see the “Starman” who has left his mortal coil; yet later we find out that his skull is encrusted with jewels. A beautiful woman, majestically swinging a tail like an Egyptian goddess, opens the Starman’s helmet, unveiling his glittering and indestructible hidden essence. She proceeds to carry the skull like a relic though a dreamy scenery of an oriental looking city. The first stanzas say:
In the villa of Ormen, in the villa of Ormen
Stands a solitary candle, ah-ah, ah-ah
In the centre of it all, in the centre of it all
Your eyes
On the day of execution, on the day of execution
Only women kneel and smile, ah-ah, ah-ah
At the centre of it all, at the centre of it all
Your eyes, your eyes
Ormen is a mysterious reference; most interpreters seem to go with the idea that it relates to a Norwegian word for snakes. It does seem to be a profound homage to women’s power as the guardians of the mystery of life and death, the magnificently swinging tail signaling a connection with the root chakra, the earth and the rising of the kundalini energy. The blindfold suggests the awakening of inner vision of the centre, symbolized by the solitary candle. The forces of chaos are further suggested by the peculiar shaky dance movements of the three figures while the circle of women moving in trance brings to mind shamanism and ecstatic wisdom achieved at the moment of dissolution of boundaries.
What follows is a moment of self-irony with Bowie holding a book like a communist leader speaking to a crowd. I absolutely love the following stanza:
I can’t answer why (I’m a blackstar)
Just go with me (I’m not a filmstar)
I’m-a take you home (I’m a blackstar)
Take your passport and shoes (I’m not a popstar)
And your sedatives, boo (I’m a blackstar)
You’re a flash in the pan (I’m not a marvel star)
I’m the great I am (I’m a blackstar)
I love the jester tone of self-mockery accompanying this dialogue with Death/God/Higher Power. Do not make me into a prophet, he seems to be saying. Someone else will replace me as an idol soon enough:
Something happened on the day he died
Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside
Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried
(I’m a blackstar, I’m a star star, I’m a blackstar)
The song oscillates between high and low tones of the sacred and the profane. When he reaches the mystical heights, the music sounds almost almost like a Gregorian chant, in other parts the trademark Bowie trickster rock is palpable. I love the three scarecrows in the field, echoing Jesus hanging on the cross with the two thieves on his sides. Their pelvises move rhythmically. It is hard to decide if the dance is that of ecstasy or are these bodies writhing in excruciating pain? But do we need to decide? Pain and ecstasy, death and creation are morphing into each other in the sky where the Black Star shines. The last minute of the video conveys a feeling of the dread of dying. How did a dying hand manage to scribble such an eloquent testimony of the most final of all experiences?
