“Be My Wife”— the video (1977)

Bowie started appearing on American television talk shows at some point after he retired Ziggy Stardust, but he didn’t release an official video after the last of the Mick Rock-directed promos, “Life on Mars,” in 1973 until he reappeared in the first of two Stanley Dorfman-directed videos, “Be My Wife,” in 1977. Bowie had been busy in between, and fans probably were not watching the one after the other—indeed, I really hadn’t thought of them as sequential until this present project. And viewed that way, “Be My Wife” almost seems like a pastiche of its immediate predecessor.

Mick Rock, who was even more accomplished as a photographer than as a video director, had a style I think of as “living photograph.” His four Bowie videos told little by way of story and mostly focused on Bowie in a single frame. This was the case with “Life on Mars,” in which Bowie stays in one place, singing against a white background, as if stuck within the frame of a photograph. Dorfman does exactly the same thing with “Be My Wife,” although from there he moves in a different direction.

As Ziggy, Bowie appeared sexy, weird, and even threatening at the same time. As he transitioned into his plastic soul period, he went from weird to fashionable and cool, though he maintained, or even enhanced, his sex appeal. I also would imagine that his appearance would have still caused heads to turn in the mid-70s. His fashionable clothing was flashy—gaudy by today’s standards—and his various hairstyles were striking in one way or the other, even after he gave up on Ziggy’s vermilion mullet.

But Bowie looks absolutely ordinary in “Be My Wife.” There he is, against a white backdrop, wearing a nondescript short-sleeved, collared shirt with similarly-colored ascot, unmemorable pants, and comfortable, flat shoes. His hairstyle was ordinary—even conservative—and colored a naturalistic blondish-brown. Though he wore makeup on his face, he looked more like Buster Keaton than a space alien. The only thing about his image that speaks to rock ‘n’ roll is his electric guitar, which is his solitary prop.

All this stands out in stark contrast to Bowie, in full Ziggy attire, heavy makeup, and a powder-blue suit in “Life on Mars.” But like that video, Bowie doesn’t take so much as a step in one direction or another. Dorfman’s camera moves, very much as Rock’s did, and Bowie gestures, cocks his head, makes weird facial expressions, and plays his guitar—but he stays in one spot. The effect subtly suggests that David Bowie has been unmasked here, which complements the vulnerability expressed in the song’s lyrics.

“Be My Wife” is the only video made in promotion of Low, an album of retreat and isolation. The lyrics express loneliness and longing—this is not a romantic proposal song (and a very far cry from Bowie’s “The Wedding Song” from 1993). This is not the cool, sexy, or threatening Bowie, but the low-profile, unremarkable, insecure Bowie alone in his room, waiting for sound and vision (or, in this case, a wife). This version of Bowie could walk down the street unnoticed, come to Grandma’s house for dinner without arousing suspicion, or fit in well with the other accountants. I have read that Bowie could make anything he wore look fashionable—he puts that theory to the test in this video.

The one somewhat mysterious element of Bowie’s image here is the ascot. Bowie seems to be going for a deliberately nerdy look—David Byrne before David Byrne—but the ascot is a little atypical, especially against the short-sleeved shirt. This might be a mid-70s thing, or it could be a detail to make Bowie come off as effete. Or maybe it’s just a subtle reminder that we’re still dealing with David Bowie here, and that his conventional appearance is itself artificial.

But one of Bowie’s more typical flamboyant pop-star manifestations would seem like a mismatch for this song. But since he had always previously appeared as a flamboyant rock star, his “normal” turn comes off as weirder still. It also helps that this is a pretty short song. It’s over quickly, leaving a sense of—what was that all about? Stripped down and making a spectacle out of the ordinary, Bowie and Dorfman leave us something to think about.

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This is the fourth in my series of commentary on Bowie’s videos as videos, rather as simply an excuse to discuss the song.