On Mother Mary and the pleasures and pitfalls of pop star cinema đś
Plus, In The Mood's next events in Toronto and Montreal...
Youâre invitedâŚ
đ In the Mood Magazine x Metatron Press present METAMOOD đ
Join us in Toronto for an afternoon for readings and collective discussion to celebrate the launch of Wavering Futures by Kawai Shen:
Sunday, May 17
Itâs Ok* Studios (468 Queen St West, Toronto)
1:00-3:30pm
Featuring readings by:
â˝ Kawai Shen
â˝ Sennah Yee
â˝ Trynne Delaney
â˝ Nirris Nagendrarajah
â˝ Lee Suksi
đď¸ P.S. Save the date: We will be hosting part two of METAMOOD in Montreal, June 7th at Parquette!
Give Us Nothing
In The Moodâs editors on the pleasures and pitfalls of pop star cinema
by Gabrielle Marceau & Sennah Yee
âBlood on White Satinâ - Skye Riley
Sennah Yee: In Mother Mary, Maryâs only rule for her seamstress Sam is that her new dress canât be red. The colour literally haunts and possesses them both: the ghost takes the form of a floating, silent tornado of red fabric, inspired and designed by artist Daniel Wurtzel.
Red has always been my favourite colourâitâs the colour of my favourite Robert Munsch book, of race cars, of lucky envelopes, of my wedding dress. Iâve had red streaks in my hair thanks to LâOrĂŠal Colour Rays, a now-discontinued product specifically for dark hair that requires no bleach. My dad would help me apply it, and I would lay my head on a towel on the kitchen table with tin foil in my hair, my neck painfully twisted while I patiently waited to be transformed.
Mary and Sam dance around what her dress and this âcomebackâ show represents: a beginning, an ending, a secret third thing? Pop stars are in constant states of invention and reinvention, changing their outfits, their hair colour, their sound. Maryâs image apparently had many evolutions, though the film doesnât do much to convince us of thisâwhen they show off previous tour outfits, I couldnât tell one era from the other. Perhaps the transformations were just in her head.
Gabrielle Marceau: Other than the red ghost, the palette of David Loweryâs Mother Mary is black and grey. The present action is set entirely in a repurposed barn in the British countryside, the ascetic headquarters for Samâs fashion line, where she drinks bright blue tea and eats no food. Pop star cinema has gone grim; think of the wintery setting, dark glitter, and bleak outlook of Vox Lux; or the moody, low-light interiors and sado-masochism in The Idol; or Skye Rileyâs black lacquered apartment in Smile 2 (not to mention the unrelenting darkness of the plot).
We know pop music has a dark side, we have seen its many casualties. But pop is dark because of its light facade: bright smiles, bright colours, bouncing, catching, sweet. Underneath: drain, depression, drugs and the pressure to continue performing. Pop star cinema makes this split literal: In a scene in Smile 2, the beleaguered pop icon is looking at herself in the mirror, when suddenly two fingers from a faceless body behind her are pulling her mouth into a smile.
When The Idol aired, images from the set of the show when Amy Steimetz was at the helm circulated online. Crew members posed with cardboard cutouts of Lily-Rose Depp wearing lime green and baby pink, in a bedroom set reminiscent of Britney Spearsâ childhood bedroom, captured by David LaChapelle. They gave us a glimpse of her version of the pop star satire, one that seemed more grounded in reality, less self-consciously dark, and decidedly more female. Itâs worth noting that all the visions of female pop stardom we talk about in this piece are directed by men.
