D.A. Pennebaker’s concert document of David Bowie’s performance on July 3, 1973, at London’s Hammersmith Odeon — his final appearance, the attendees were shocked to learn, as the spaceman who fell to earth — remains the definitive portrait of the artist as a fruity vamp in a candy-striped jumpsuit pretending to be a rock star from another planet. Subsequent parodies — Spinal Tap, The Rocky Horror Show, Velvet Goldmine, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Marilyn Manson — have yet to capture the oddity of the genuine article, not because Bowie comes off as particularly outlandish but because he did Ziggy as if a glitter-rock opera about a Martian were the most ordinary thing in the world. Mundane, even.

Pennebaker uses available light (read: not much) and lets Ziggy’s cycle speak for itself, perhaps because cinematic concerns — the incremental passage of time, the impermanence of image — were already imbedded in the songs and the performance. The crowd shots are few but powerful. Outside the Odeon, the scene is like a cross between a film premiere and a Star Trek convention; inside, the best performance might’ve been that of a teenage girl dramatically overwhelmed by "Space Oddity." The set list is greatest-hits: "Ziggy Stardust," "Watch That Man," "All the Young Dudes," "Suffragette City," Jacques Brel’s "My Death," the Stones’ "Let’s Spend the Night Together," and the Velvet Underground’s "White Light/White Heat."

Compared with today’s concerts, this one was low-rent: the visual effects amounted to a strobe and a disco ball. But you still can’t figure out how guitarist Mick Ronson made some of those noises: the pictures are no help at all and in fact are more confounding, because your eyes and ears are providing you with conflicting information. Which was the essence of what Bowie and Ziggy were after: what you see is not, by any stretch of the imagination, precisely what you get. (90 minutes)