We’ve never seen the real Beyoncé before
Beyoncé’s new visual album, Lemonade, arrived on the weekend like a hurricane.
It promptly laid waste to everything we thought we knew about the Queen of Pop.
As it turns out, we’ve only known what she’s wanted us to know all this time, which is nothing. Until this weekend, Beyoncé was a mirage.
But from the opening shot, in which only her left ear is visible in profile, tucked between a fur coat and cornrows, Lemonade crushes the rose-coloured glasses under six-inch heels. It removes the celebrity spotlight and shines a laser beam on the one thing Beyoncé avoids more than dollar stores: her emotions.
And not the grade of “emotions” we’ve come to expect from the rich and famous in this age of inane status updates, Instagram, reflexive “likes,” endless emoji and PR-controlled “interviews.” The first words she sings, from the track “Pray You Catch Me,” set the tone.
“You can taste the dishonesty / It’s all over your breath.”
I don’t know what her husband Jay Z did when first told about Lemonade. But it likely involved shallow breathing and a few nervous gulps. He may even spend the rest of his days sleeping with one eye open. While rumours of marital discord have animated the tabloids for ages — including allegations Jay Z was unfaithful — Beyoncé never dignified the scurrilous gossip.
Her public image and private life inhabited separate worlds. They never crossed paths. But in Lemonade, the arresting imagery, wince-inducing lyrics, art-house vibe and raw spoken word transitions put the public and private Beyoncés on a collision course, one that quickly explodes into a big bang confessional.
This is the two Beyoncés fist bumping and inviting fans into one tormented heart.
“You come home at 3 a.m. and lie to me,” she says early on. “What are you hiding?”
And then seconds later, after Beyoncé plunges off a highrise ledge and the street below morphs into a lake, Beyoncé is submerged in her own misery, bubbles of air escaping her mouth in terrifying slow motion: “Are you cheating on me?”
“I try to make a home out of you. But doors lead to trap doors.”
The one-hour film required seven directors. There are musical collaborations with James Blake, Jack White, Kendrick Lamar and The Weeknd. But the most brilliant move came from working with Warsan Shire, the Somali-British poet. Shire’s lucid verse about interpersonal anguish and generational despair, which Beyoncé reads in narrative bursts, as if in a trance, gives Lemonade an emotional depth not found in most music videos.
“If this is what you truly want, I can wear her skin over mine.”
If that sounds like a threat or an ultimatum, it might be both. Beyoncé is putting just about everyone on notice, especially Jay Z: “Keep your money, I got my own.” “They don’t love you like I love you.” “This is your final warning.” “If you try this s--t again, you’re going to lose your wife.”
The biggest message goes out to the music industry. Every aspiring pop queen must now deal with the harsh realitythat Beyoncé is in no rush to relinquish her crown. Lemonade is not just a work of blistering genius, a defining moment in the year of pop culture; it’s also the measuring stick against which all future “visual albums” will be judged. Marketing, promotion, creative artistry and, most important, emotional honesty, Lemonade changes everything.
I know. I’m gushing. I apologize. But, honestly, I was riveted. Even if you’re not a fan of Beyoncé’s music, I encourage you to watch the film.
Whether she’s grinning in a marigold dress while smashing car windows with a baseball bat or quoting Malcolm X (“the most unprotected person in America is the black woman”) or ascending a red hallway worthy of The Shining, Beyoncé has never been this hauntingly compelling. It’s as if she decided to suppress her own need for privacy in order to heal, to have a very public catharsis. It’s as if she felt compelled to mine her own heartache to make universal statements about relationships, about society, about the sad way history tends to repeat itself in life and love. It’s as if she decided to invest in a project that could pay dividends not only for her bottom line, but to anyone in need of a jolt of empowerment, the flash of comfort that comes in knowing you’re not alone even when it feels like you’re surrounded by flames or drowning in the abyss.
Beyoncé gave the world a glimpse into the real her this weekend.
It’ll be impossible to forget. vmenon@thestar.ca