In black-and-white, Jessie J tilts her head, her damp hair slicked back. She rolls around on the floor, clutching her neck. Ropes around her wrists constrict her movement. However, she is able to sweep the powder on the floor with her leg. She stands, using her knees and sways her body.
She puts on a bondage mask, covering her face. A half-moon of light is centered behind her. She crawls on stage, wearing fishnet stockings and a halter top. She lets rose petals fall from her tied hands.
On the smoky street, she hits the wall and takes off her leather gloves. She puts her hands in her hair and stands in the street.
She loosens the rope around her wrists. On the street, she makes a finger gun and shoots. She watches as petals fall from the ceiling. She stands in the street and then steps into a puddle as she walks away.
The black-and-white seems to cement a break in Jessie J, magnifying her aggression to a unteneable point. Every gesture with her hands and fingers strengthens her bitterness and raises her voice. There is no getting through to her. She hasn’t been heard in years.
Nonetheless, her airing of private grievances strikes some fear in her. Tied with ropes around her wrists, she can’t move. She needs help but can’t find anyone else to ask. However, once freed, she lashes out, experimenting in dangerous and secret places.
The self-destructive rant, which lifted a huge burden off her, disconnected her from usually sympathetic people. One negative experience has diseased her once content attitude. Somehow, there seems to be no turning back.
Directors: Erik Rojas, Bryan Ziff & Jessie J Year: 2017
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