Marc Bolan and Born to Boogie: Directed by Ringo Starr (feat: Elton John)

In the early months of 1972, Britain shimmered under the glitter-dusted spell of Marc Bolan. With corkscrew curls, flamboyant fashion, and a knack for turning whimsical verse into three-minute rock anthems, Bolan was more than just a pop star, he was the shining face of a new movement. Backed by his band T. Rex, Bolan spearheaded glam rock into the mainstream, dominating British airwaves with a string of Number One hits and top-ten singles that sent teenage hearts fluttering and transistor radios crackling.

At that point, his old mate David Bowie was still hovering on the edge of major fame, and music writers were already calling Bolan “the successor to the Beatles.” Not bad for someone who’d only recently swapped the acoustic mysticism of Tyrannosaurus Rex — all bongos, fantasy lyrics, and incense-scented folk, for full-blown, electric boogie. Reinvention suited him. The self-described “bopping imp” had become a bona fide icon.

It was during the peak of this craze, affectionately dubbed “T. Rextasy” by fans, that none other than Ringo Starr decided to make a film about him. Not just a concert movie, and not quite a straight-up documentary either, Born to Boogie would be something stranger and more celebratory: a surreal, semi-scripted, star-powered tribute to the pint-sized poet who’d captured Britain’s imagination.

According to Alan Edwards, Bolan’s one-time publicist, the connection between Ringo and Marc was genuine. “Ringo and Marc had more in common than meets the eye,” Edwards recalled. “They both had an off-the-wall sense of humour. I think this is very important. There was obviously a great chemistry between the two.” The former Beatle wasn’t just lending his clout; he was offering something closer to a blessing — a sort of generational passing of the torch.

And in Born to Boogie, that torch burns bright.

A Boogie Wonderland Like No Other

Directed and produced by Starr himself, with music from Bolan and a special guest appearance from Elton John, the film had no interest in playing it safe. As far as rock films go, Born to Boogie defies easy classification. Much like the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour, it splices performance with dreamlike interludes, surreal skits, and unexpected moments of poetry.

But where the Beatles’ TV special swerved away from live music, Born to Boogie embraces it. Central to the film are two sold-out T. Rex concerts filmed at Wembley’s Empire Pool (now Wembley Arena), each played to a screaming, stomping, euphoric crowd of 10,000 teenagers. There’s real electricity in these sequences — Bolan feeding off the hysteria, grinning from ear to ear in a glittering shirt emblazoned with his own face, flanked by giant cardboard cut-outs of… himself.

Then come the studio sessions: raucous, joyful jams at Apple Studios with Bolan on guitar, Elton John on piano, and Ringo on drums. Their stripped-down take on “Children of the Revolution” has an effortless swagger, while a chaotic, foot-stomping cover of Little Richard’s “Tutti Frutti” threatens to tear the studio walls down. It’s a rock supergroup moment that rivals The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus for sheer exuberance.

But Born to Boogie isn’t all glitter and feedback. One of its most charming and peculiar scenes takes place on the manicured grounds of John Lennon’s Tittenhurst Park estate. There, Bolan plays an acoustic medley of T. Rex tunes dressed as the Mad Hatter, flanked by a trio of violinists, while Ringo, dressed as the Dormouse, looks on. The moment borders on the absurd — but it works, thanks to Bolan’s undeniable charisma and flair for the theatrical.

Glitter, Guitars, and Verse

Throughout the film, Bolan swings between pop demigod and whimsical poet. In one skit, standing atop a gleaming Ford Thunderbird, he recites original verse to a costumed Starr:

“Footsteps stamping through the citadel of your soul.

Rock ’n’ roll children born to dance to the beat of your heart and dive to the rhythm of the universe. What say you, friend?”

It’s pure Bolan — eccentric, mystical, a bit daft, and completely mesmerising. While he’s often remembered today as a glam-rock poster boy, these moments reveal the thoughtful artist behind the sparkle.

And yet, public perception hasn’t always been kind. Despite Bolan’s undeniable influence — his swagger, style, and sonic fingerprints can be traced through Bowie, Suede, and countless others — he’s frequently dismissed as a preening pop narcissist, a sugary lightweight in a glitter waistcoat. It’s a lazy verdict, and Born to Boogie tells a more honest story: that of a young man revelling in the dream he’d chased since boyhood, unafraid to enjoy his moment.

“Marc loved ‘it’ as opposed to loving himself,” says Edwards. “He wasn’t as strategic as some performers. Things weren’t over planned. . . . I didn’t get the impression that he took himself that seriously.”

He’s mostly right. That is, until the film’s final scene, where Bolan, lost in a swirling crescendo of “Get It On,” starts whacking a flimsy tambourine against his guitar like it’s some sort of glittery phallic weapon. It’s a full-on, Hendrix-style meltdown — theatrical, absurd, and perhaps a touch self-indulgent. But then again, it is glam rock.

A Film That Deserves More Love

Despite its surreal brilliance and the megawatt star power behind it, Born to Boogie has struggled to maintain a foothold in the public consciousness. Even after rereleases in 2006 and 2016 — the latter of which included a run of cinema screenings across the UK — it remains a cult artefact rather than a widely recognised classic.

That’s a shame, especially considering that Born to Boogie arguably paved the way for later music films like Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1973) and The Song Remains the Same (1976). The latter, says Edwards, “[also] had a sense of the absurd.” But while those films are regularly cited as genre-defining, Bolan’s boogie bonanza remains overlooked.

Perhaps that’s because Bolan’s star burned too briefly. He died tragically in a car crash in 1977, just two weeks shy of his 30th birthday. Since then, documentaries have tried to reclaim his legacy — some better than others — but few have captured the essence of Marc Bolan like Born to Boogie.

Here, he is not only the pop star of teenage dreams, but also a gifted performer, a gleeful prankster, a lyricist with his head in the clouds and his boots on the monitor. He’s exactly how he wanted to be remembered — dazzling, daft, and absolutely magnetic.

And that, surely, is worth another look.

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