“Blackstar,” David Bowie’s short film accompanying his recently released 10-minute musical opus premiered in Brooklyn this week. The film opens with an astronaut (Major Tom?) in repose in a planetary, mountainous environment. An eclipsed star looms overhead, rays of bright light peeking from behind, as a beautiful woman with a tail opens the astronaut’s helmet to reveal a jewel-embroidered skull, which she carries to an ancient village of sandstone.

We next see Bowie, eyes obscured by bandages, covered with two black dots that resemble the cold, emotionless eyes of a great white shark, in a derelict attic with two shirtless men, violently shaking, presumably prisoners. Next, a group of women, also vibrating, gather in a circle in the sand, background obscured by darkness and refractory light. Beauty shots of desolate cornfields with several shaking scarecrows are accompanied by such lyrics as, “Something happened on the day he died. A spirit rose … and stepped aside. Someone else took his place and bravely cried, ‘I’m a black star,’” and “I’m not a pop star, I’m a black star.”

Then, we see a skeleton floating through space toward the eclipsed star, and several close-ups of irises, highlighting the human eye’s physical similarity to the black star. We then return to the group of girls, all still shaking, as one bends down and the embroidered skull from earlier is placed on her back. The lyric – “On the day of execution, lonely women kneel and smile,” furthers the sense of dread that the sparse musical arrangement and loosely punctuated saxophones have built. The film concludes with an evil, multicolored entity murdering the scarecrows, as the initially imposing characters at second glance have been crucified and are therefore defenseless. A final slide of a black star over white reminds one of the communist Russian regime.

But what does this nonlinear art-house film in the vein of Jodorowsky and Tarkovsky mean? I interpreted it to be a musing on death. The skull, embroidered in radiant jewels, offers a contrast to the typical Western view that fears death. In addition to a mounting sense of dread, the film has a deep sense of adventure, and even the black star shines brightly. On the day of execution, women smile because they are stronger and hold the key to understanding. Death and destruction are often veiled by false promise, and everyone is possessed; by the will to live, to fight, to conquer. To defy this and submit to death’s grip is to surrender to the truest truth of them all. I think Bowie is asking us not to fear, for death is oneness, and unifies us all. He suggests death is the beginning of a great adventure.