This 1976 film is incoherent and choppily edited, full of 1970’s tripe. The scenes go on and on and then arenseemingly randomly spliced together. It is obsessed with naked bodies (especially Bowie’s) trying to shock the audience. It is pretentious- an artsy film where no one acts rationally. This throws you off and is why David Mamet said this about screenwriting : any good story should have a beginning a middle and an end. (this is why french movies are trash) Artsy movies like this Bowie -fest are purely ego driven- let me photograph a flower and I will force you to watch the image for way too long.