I remember the first time I encountered her -- in music videos and then as one of the villains in the James Bond film A View to a Kill -- I found her frightening. Like a lot of viewers I wasn't ready for her afro-futurist brand of gender-bending theatricality.
But she has grown to become one of my favorite performers and fashion icons. And today, she is something akin to the perfect diva for the times in which we're living, even if much of the footage in this new documentary film about her -- Grace Jones: Bloodlight and Bami -- appears to have been shot ten years ago when she released her last original album Hurricane.
I say 'appears' because the film, directed by Sophie Fiennes (the sister of Ralph and Joseph), makes no effort to provide context in terms of dates and locations, instead it trusts you to be taken enough with Jones' uninhibited, unapologetic self (and I believe most audiences will be) that you'll simply be happy to share the space with here, whether it be while she struts across stage in a host of impeccably bizarre headpieces or having candid conversations in the homes of ancestors and family friends back in Jamaica.
Jones looks impossibly gorgeous throughout, she shifts accents depending on the company she keeps (which in any given scene can be British, French of Jamaican) and can be wonderfully charming when enjoying breakfast in nothing but a fur coat or genially bawling out some of her musical collaborators. The one sad note I felt throughout was the fact that she's never been fully appreciated and deserved far more opportunity to shine in American film roles.
The audience I saw this documentary with was definitely stocked with dedicated fans -- and those of us who are read-in on Jones' funky discography and legendary stage shows get more than their money's worth in this film. But it also full of quieter, more pensive moments -- including when Jones describes the transcendent death of her father.
It's also frequently quite funny -- a tantrum Jones throws early on about the staging of one of her performances is a classic bit of documentary eavesdropping -- and throughout Fiennes hangs back, letting Jones and her co-stars just interact. There are no traditional talking heads in this film, no vintage flashbacks. It's very present, living in the now.
Of course, I'd love to see this film kickstart a Grace Jones renaissance. She clearly has an incredible career worth reflecting on and wealth of knowledge and experiences that people ought to revel in. I'd love to see her make more music and more movies, although it'll always be a challenge to find he right venue for her utterly unique voice and distinct look.
And, if nothing else, I am grateful for this documentary which preserves her in peak form, not without flaws, but also unmistakably one of a kind.
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