David Bowie wasn't just acting. When you watch The Man Who Fell to Earth, that 1976 cult classic directed by Nicolas Roeg, it feels less like a performance and more like a documentary of a soul coming apart at the seams. It’s weird. It’s slow. It’s deeply uncomfortable. Yet, nearly fifty years after Thomas Jerome Newton first tumbled into a New Mexico lake, the film remains a high-water mark for science fiction that actually has something to say about the human condition.
He was Thomas Jerome Newton. An alien. A visitor from Anthea, a dying, parched world. He came for water. He found gin, television, and the soul-crushing weight of American capitalism instead.
Most sci-fi movies of that era were busy with laser beams or giant ants. Roeg went the other way. He gave us a story about a man—or a being that looked like a man—who possessed the technology to save his family but lacked the emotional calluses to survive a weekend in a hotel room. It’s a tragedy. A slow-motion car crash in a Howard Johnson’s.
The Alien Who Was Just Too Human
The brilliance of The Man Who Fell to Earth lies in its subversion of the "invader" trope. Newton isn't here to conquer us. Honestly, he’s barely here to visit. He’s a desperate refugee with a briefcase full of patents. Walter Tevis, who wrote the 1963 novel the film is based on, knew a thing or two about addiction and isolation. He also wrote The Queen’s Gambit and The Hustler. You can see that shared DNA; it’s all about people who are incredibly gifted at one specific thing but completely useless at existing.
Newton uses his advanced knowledge to build World Enterprises Corporation. He becomes a billionaire overnight. He’s the Elon Musk of the seventies, but with better hair and a much more fragile psyche.
The movie doesn’t follow a standard three-act structure. It drifts. We see Newton’s rise, his relationship with Mary-Lou—a hotel maid played with heartbreaking sincerity by Candy Clark—and his eventual betrayal by the very systems he tried to master. It’s not a spoiler to say things go south. The government gets involved. The "doctors" get involved. By the time Newton is being examined by men in lab coats, he’s already lost the will to go home. He’s become one of us: a drunk, a consumer, a ghost.
Why David Bowie Was the Only Choice
You can't talk about this film without talking about Bowie. At the time of filming, he was reportedly living on a diet of red peppers, milk, and an industrial amount of cocaine. He was in his "Thin White Duke" phase. He looked translucent. Fragile. When Roeg saw the documentary Cracked Actor, he knew he’d found his alien.
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Bowie once said he didn't have to act; he just had to be there. His performance is detached and ethereal. While other actors might have played "alien" by acting robotic, Bowie played it by being incredibly sensitive to everything. The sound of a television, the feel of a hand, the glare of the sun—it all seemed to physically hurt him.
The Roeg Style: A Disorienting Masterclass
Nicolas Roeg didn't care about your sense of time. He used "fractured" editing. One moment Newton is in a boardroom, the next he’s flashing back to the desert dunes of Anthea where his wife and children are waiting for a rain that will never come.
- The film uses jump cuts that feel like glitches in reality.
- It ignores traditional exposition. You have to pay attention.
- The soundtrack is a mix of bluegrass, orchestral swells, and silence because Bowie’s own planned soundtrack was famously rejected (a loss we still mourn).
This wasn't just "artsy" for the sake of it. It reflected Newton's own perception. To an immortal or long-lived alien, human time might look exactly like that: a jumble of disconnected moments, some beautiful, most mundane.
The Man Who Fell to Earth and the Death of the American Dream
If you look past the orange hair and the spaceships, the movie is a scathing critique of 1970s America. Newton comes here with pure intentions. He wants to build a ship to transport water back to his world. But the corporate machine doesn't want progress; it wants control.
The character of Nathan Bryce, played by Rip Torn, serves as a foil. He’s a disillusioned academic who becomes obsessed with Newton. Through Bryce, we see the cynical curiosity of humanity. We don't want to learn from the stars; we want to take them apart and see what makes them tick, even if it kills the specimen.
The tragedy of The Man Who Fell to Earth is that Newton doesn't die. He just stays. He becomes a permanent resident of his own failure. He records an album (The Visitor) hoping his wife might hear it on the radio back on Anthea, but he knows she won't. He’s stuck in a cycle of passive consumption, watching a wall of televisions simultaneously, a prophet of our modern multi-screen anxiety.
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The 2022 Series and the Legacy
In 2022, Showtime released a series starring Chiwetel Ejiofor as a new alien following in Newton’s footsteps. It was a bold attempt to modernize the themes of climate change and tech-monopoly. Bill Nighy even stepped into Bowie’s shoes as an older, more cynical Thomas Jerome Newton.
While the series was well-received for its acting, it lacked the jagged, hallucinogenic edge of the original. The 1976 film remains the definitive version because it feels like it was beamed in from another planet. It’s messy. It’s overlong. It’s perfect.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
There’s a common misconception that Newton was simply captured and defeated. It’s darker than that. The "human" world didn't just lock him up; it assimilated him.
The final scene shows Newton at a cafe, hiding his alien eyes behind sunglasses, drinking himself into oblivion. He’s wealthy, he’s famous, and he’s utterly alone. He didn't lose because he was weak; he lost because he was empathetic. He felt the weight of our world, and it was heavier than the gravity he was used to.
Real-World Impact and Influence
The aesthetic of this film didn't just stay in the cinema. It bled into fashion, music, and photography.
- Fashion: The oversized suits and fedoras Bowie wore became the blueprint for the "New Romantic" look.
- Cinema: Directors like Christopher Nolan and Wes Anderson have cited Roeg’s non-linear editing as a massive influence.
- Music: The "vibe" of the film heavily influenced Bowie's subsequent "Berlin Trilogy" of albums (Low, Heroes, Lodger).
Navigating the Man Who Fell to Earth Today
If you’re planning to watch it for the first time, or maybe revisit it after seeing the TV show, here’s how to actually digest it. Don't look for a plot. Look for a feeling.
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Where to start:
Search for the "Criterion Collection" version. The restoration is vital because the cinematography by Anthony B. Richmond is half the experience. The colors of the New Mexico desert are supposed to look both inviting and predatory.
The Novel vs. The Movie:
Read Walter Tevis's book if you want more internal logic. The book explains the science of the "spheres" and Newton's plan much more clearly. The movie, however, is where the soul of the story lives. Tevis wrote about the pain; Roeg filmed the atmosphere of that pain.
Actionable Insights for the Cinephile:
- Watch for the TVs: Pay attention to what is playing on the screens in the background. Roeg used them to comment on the scenes happening in the foreground. It’s meta-commentary before that was a buzzword.
- The Soundtrack Context: Listen to the 2016 released soundtrack. For decades, the music was a legal mess. Now you can actually hear the strange, haunting work of John Phillips and Stomu Yamashta as it was intended.
- Contextualize the Era: Remember that 1976 was the year of the American Bicentennial. The film is a deliberate "anti-celebration" of American culture, showing the grit behind the glitter.
The Man Who Fell to Earth isn't an easy watch. It’s not "fun" in the way Star Wars is fun. But it is essential. It asks if we are worth saving, and it doesn't give a comforting answer. It reminds us that being "human" isn't a biological status—it's a series of choices, many of which are incredibly destructive.
To truly understand the legacy of this story, look at how we treat refugees and innovators today. We still oscillate between deifying them and trying to tear them apart. Thomas Jerome Newton is still out there, sitting in a bar, waiting for a ship that’s never coming back.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Understanding:
Investigate the photography of Steve Schapiro, who was the unit photographer on set. His stills capture the "alienness" of Bowie in a way that even the moving film sometimes misses. Additionally, compare the 1976 film's portrayal of corporate greed with modern "tech-bro" culture; you'll find the parallels are unsettlingly accurate. If you want to see the literal fingerprints of this movie on modern sci-fi, watch Under the Skin (2013) starring Scarlett Johansson—it is essentially a spiritual successor that uses the same DNA of isolation and observation.