Don't. Just don't,
okay? A 20-something minute
documentary thrown together to mark the anniversary of Bolan's death, 20th Century Boy is - how to put this
delicately? A pile of shit. A bunch of barely-interested talking
heads include a resentful ex-chauffeur, an old friend and sometime bandmate, a
brother, a son and a partner, plus producer Tony Visconti, and there is the
sneaking suspicion that at least half of them still have some pleasant memories
of Marc. But sliced and diced by
an editor with an axe to grind and Bolan isn't simply reduced to the level of
the lowliest one-hit wonder you've never heard of, but he's an alcoholic wife beating
dope fiend as well. Which might be
true. But the vague testimony of
one man is an odd thing to build an anniversary around, especially when the
truth about Bolan is so much more fascinating. Even exploitative rubbish would be better than this.
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