Today I’ve been thinking about the opening scene of the Hunger, a movie that is just an excuse for one gorgeous scene after another. Catherine deNeuve and David Bowie stalk two young people in a club, take them to their house and kill them because they’re vampires. The whole time, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” is making a mess of everyone’s nerves. When I first saw it, it’s exactly what I wanted clubs to be like: dark, dangerous, sexy, and stalked by beautiful vampires.
Today I’ve been thinking of Bowie covers and remakes, trying to figure out if anyone could be the Goblin King or John Blaylock. But there really is no point to a remake, just a continuation with others. There is a Bowie-shaped hole in the world now. It is so powerful that even in death he convinces people that “The Man Who Stole The World” was his own hit, and not an obscure track made famous by Cobain’s chillingly exhausted take.
I could still be talked into a fusion between the Hunger and Hungry Hearts. Adam Driver as John, Alba as Miriam. The baby’s not getting enough blood to survive, so they argue about what kind of human blood to give him? I don’t know, this stopped making sense a long time ago.