In this wordless, experimental film, a powerful goddess meets her match.
With The Coronation, Emily Penick offers a destabilizing film. She is not afraid to go where the viewer will not expect it.
The very first thing you notice when watching The Coronation is its visual quality. Anastasiia Kulikalova, the cinematographer, did an exceptional job on this film. The very foreground is sublime: a woman is lying on the ground and the light passes between her fingers and is reflected in her venetian hair.
Slowly she will rise and lead us into what appears to be a soft, slow dance movie. The dancer is naked and does not go at the same rhythm than the music. It intrigues. This rhythmic imbalance creates a kind of break with the image that looks so perfect. But it flows and we forgive this strange lack of rhythm. But this is, obviously, not an error in editing or musical choice. In fact, it subtly prepares the viewer for a big coitus interruptus.
And suddenly, at 2 minutes 45 seconds, the rupture occurs. The dancer suddenly hits a kind of vertical blind that seems to come from nowhere. It is from there that the spectator will experience a long imbalance. But what a magnificent imbalance.
As the viewer is lulled into all this beauty — or what is defined as beauty in our society: the perfect body, the perfect light, the perfect movements — comes this new character and a new visual style. Done with this beautiful light with a soft orange complexion and these delicate movements.
The change in tone is drastic and automatically makes the viewer question what they were seeing. A cold, raw light, as well as a woman with a “cheap” look, amaze the dancer — and the viewer.
Somewhere between satire and experimental cinema, we find The Coronation. Penick’s film, choreographed by Kelsey Burns, will shock many. This criticism of the imposed image strikes hard and in an original way.
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