"Cast in the same mold"

I struggled hard to watch film director Jonathan Stiasny's documentary "David Bowie: The Final Act". I failed utterly the first time. I barely managed the second time. The raw film material isn't bad, on the contrary. The original footage is brilliant, hearing Bowie speak about his music is always a pleasure and watching Johan Renck's official music video for "Lazarus" is sad and gripping. David Bowie died shortly after "Blackstar" was released. However, the documentary is a disaster. There are some do's and dont's in script writing. You don't need to include a real astronaut (Chris Hadfield) just because "Life on Mars" is lingering in the background. It's too obvious. You don't need to include drum and bass artist Goldie to be perceived as "modern". It's too anxious. You don't need to give enormous space to guitarist Earl Slick, when he hasn't much of importance to say. It's too unimaginative. I could go on, but I will stop there. This particular documentary adds little or nothing to what we already know about David Bowie. Music documentaries in general are all cast in the same mold. A narrator, people telling their rationalized and fabricated stories, L cuts and J cuts, archive material mixed with genre footage and, last but not least, a standardized narrative technique. The scene settings are heavily templated and ruminated. Either shot in an expensive recording studio or in a tacky home. The homes are terrible: vulgar furniture, black chandeliers, a grand piano to prop up their mortal remains, hideous carpets and vomit-inducing art. But, it's not the repulsive interior design that upsets me. It's the format. I can't stand it.