Throughout cinema history, there have been some iconic nude scenes that have transcended the bounds of the films in which they appeared. Our new column Anatomy of a Scene's Manatomy will take an in-depth look at these scenes, their history, their deeper meanings, and their legacy. This week, we're looking at one of the best movies of the 1990s, Todd Haynes' Velvet Goldmine, and how Ewan McGregor's knockout nude scene lays the groundwork for the chaos to come in the film!
Contrary to popular opinion, Haynes' third feature film didn't actually begin its life as a biopic of the glam rock period in David Bowie's career. The film was always intended to be a thinly veiled work of fiction, drawing inspiration from incidents in Bowie's life while never actually intending to present anything in the film as factual. Nevertheless, due to the many parallels to Bowie's own life and career—not to mention his professional and personal connections to other rockers of the time like Iggy Pop, Mick Jagger, and Lou Reed—people have always assumed that Haynes originally intended to make a Bowie biopic.
In actuality, Haynes wanted to create a glorious melting pot of a film that combined many disparate ingredients of the glam rock movement with the writings of Oscar Wilde, conforming them to a structure which aped that of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane. In other words, he was making a film that would appeal to music nerds, literary snobs, and film geeks all at the same time. He also manages to weave in some autobiographical details concerning his "coming out" journey, and the key role that glam rock played in his own self-discovery. As a result, the film is much more dense and nuanced than any standard biopic could ever hope to be, making the story much more universal and broadly appealing.
The Bowie surrogate in the story is Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers), a musician who revitalizes his career by creating a space age alter ego named Maxwell Demon, becoming a superstar and standard bearer for the glam rock movement of the early 1970s. At the height of his fame, Slade fakes his own death on stage, retreating from the limelight after the publicity stunt backfires and more or less dropping off the face of the earth. Ten years later, journalist Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale) is tasked with writing a story about Slade's career and disappearance, which is where the Citizen Kane elements—as well as Haynes' own autobiographical details—enter into the film.
As Stuart meets with various people from Slade's life, he also has flashbacks to his own life during the time period, and how Slade's music played a substantial part in his own sexual awakening. The first person Stuart meets with is Slade's first manager, Cecil (Michael Feast), who recounts his involvement in the early days of Slade's career. One of the first gigs that Cecil lands for Slade is at a music festival where his folk-infused hippie act is a total failure with the audience. Sticking around at the festival, Slade first lays eyes on American proto-punk rocker Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor), a hybrid of Iggy Pop and Lou Reed—with a dash of Mick Jagger thrown in for good measure—as he and his band The Rats give an equally poorly received performance.
The difference between Slade's failure and Wild's failure at this festival is all in the presentation, however. While Slade suffers silently and contains his rage as the audience turns against him, Wild's reaction to the audience's rejection is one of bold defiance. He seems to feed off of their hate, brazenly giving them finger, and eventually dropping his pants to moon the audience...
According to Haynes' director's commentary on the film's 2011 Blu-ray release, the script only called for McGregor to moon the crowd, but the actor was inspired by the antics of Iggy Pop to keep his pants around his ankles for several seconds, leaping about like a crazy person, and eventually turning around to show the audience everything...
As Cecil and Slade's wife Mandy (Toni Collette) mock Wild's antics, Slade quips "I just wish it had been me. I wish I'd thought of it," realizing that if the audience is going to hate him regardless, he needs to adopt an attitude like Wild, flaunting their hatred back at them. This segues into his first music video as the newly reinvented Maxwell Demon, showing off his new glam rock sound and attitude in one of the great music video sequences in film history...
Nude scenes in film are often gratuitous—after all, what fun are they if they're not at least a little bit gratuitous—but few are as integral to the plot as this one. McGregor infuses Curt Wild with his own devil may care attitude as an actor, casting off his inhibitions and serving as an inspiration for Brian Slade to reinvent himself as an artist. Had he simply mooned the audience as the script dictated, it would have been a funny sequence and perhaps a bit of a "can you believe this guy" moment, but his extended nudity and the pride he seems to take in offending the audience takes things to another level.
It's easy to see why Slade admires Wild's flamboyance as he moves beyond "can you believe this guy" into the realm of "there might actually be something wrong with this guy," and as the film's audience discovers, there was indeed something wrong with Curt Wild. When his parents discover that he's been having sexual relations with his older brother, they send him for electro-shock treatment—a nod to Lou Reed's parents' attempt to "cure" his homosexual urges in a similar manner. This clearly damaged Wild, but also perhaps removed any and all of his inhibitions as both a person and a performer.
Had McGregor played it safe and stuck to the script, the scene wouldn't have had half the impact it ultimately does, both on the film and its characters. By going the full monty, McGregor shows us a side of this character that you're run of the mill mooning wouldn't have shown. It might not have made Slade's leap to "I wish I'd thought of it" make sense. Mooning is a petulant act that anyone could think up in the heat of the moment, but what Wild does is substantially more brazen and deliberately confrontational. It's truly the kind of thing that would make an artist jealous for not thinking it up first, and seems far more inspirational as a result.
Now, don't mistake me, Velvet Goldmine would still be an excellent film without McGregor's full frontal, but this simple act cements many of the film's notions in a single moment, taking them to the next level. Yes, it would still be excellent, but thanks to Ewan's cock, it's one of the all-time greats. Join us again next week as we take a look at the climactic sequence from Alfonso Cuarón's breakthrough 2001 film Y Tu Mamá También.
Catch up with our other editions of Anatomy of a Scene's Manatomy...
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