THE BODY ECLECTIC

French pop star crosses the gender divide with power, writes Gia Kourlas

IS IT possible to be sexual, but to not be seen as an object? In her video Girlfriend, French singer Héloïse Letissier – her body morphing between the male and female – is macho and defiant. She doesn’t offer her body: she flaunts it. The video is a glorious expression of our many selves.

Letissier created one of my favourite videos in recent years, Tilted, in which she celebrates the joy of being off balance.

Tilted is more an exploration of childhood and innocence; it has a softness that Girlfriend, for all its sunset beauty, does not.

Now, as Chris, a short-haired gang leader, Letissier takes an earthy, athletic approach. Her dancing, which slyly plays with gender in a labyrinth of pop culture references, follows suit: it has power.

For Girlfriend, directed by Jordan Bahat, Letissier collaborated with (LA) Horde, a French contemporary dance collective formed in 2013 by Marine Brutti, Jonathan Debrouwer and Arthur Harel.

She was inspired by a teaser for their show To Da Bone, which features jump-style, a form rooted in electronic music with ferocious kicks and jumps.

In working with Letissier, the choreographers wondered how to create something for pop music to put in meaning, to have questions about gender and to sexualise it.

Letissier asked: “Can I make a gay video that is an intensely macho video at the same time?”

At the start, we see the back of Chris’ head: are we looking at a man or a woman, a boy or a girl?

Perched high in the air on a girder, Chris is a fantasy male construction worker, or perhaps a male construction worker’s fantasy girl. It somehow echoes Flashdance – welder by day, dancer by night.

Like the gangs roaming the streets of New York City at the start of West Side Story, Chris begins by marking her territory with the most pedestrian of movements: a walk.

Chris sets the tone with cool, confident steps as she gathers her gang of graceful thugs.

“This is a symbolic wink to all of the movies where there are gangs involved,”(la) Horde explained.

The set-up also brings to mind Michael Jackson’s video for Bad, which was itself inspired, in part, by West Side Story.

For (LA) Horde, “it was important to show that she was part of a group fighting with her, and that all of the gestures being created are also very provocative. But not in a sexual way”.

The chorus of Girlfriend is a call to arms. The performers gather behind Chris in a wedge formation. Dancing as one, the group gives off a brash, masculine air. This moment even references man-spreading, but reclaims it with a gritty, jazzy finesse.

Chris and her gang show off their strength with cross punches and flexed biceps. In making the transition from Christine to Chris, Letissier said she wanted to show off her body, but “it’s more like in the macho way of I’m going to show you my muscles”.

The video’s strong central character is also inspired by Madonna, who Letissier said “doesn’t apologise for her power”.

But there’s elation in

Girlfriend, too. The dancers contrast their plié – the bending of the knees – with the free-flung exuberance of their arms.

Chris recalls the spirit of a 1950s movie musical, where athletic prowess was gleefully celebrated, but always with a touch of balletic agility.

Full of swagger, Chris separates from the gang. For (LA) Horde, as the dancers gather around, they resemble something like street kids, or the Lost Boys in Peter Pan.

Letissier also emanates the earthy robustness of Gene Kelly, whom she reveres.

“He’s grounded,” she said. “His pants are sometimes too tight for his thighs. I like the healthy muscles jutting out — but still dancing physically. I always rooted for Gene Kelly.”

The hypnotic, extended body roll – lasting a few seconds longer than most would allow it to – is the video’s most arresting moment.

Letissier said: “At some point we started to do it for a second, and then we wanted it to last for hours and hours.

“It’s such a simple movement, but it becomes like it is in Magic Mike – you are offering your body, but it’s still a big, masculine way of displaying power.”

In Girlfriend, even when the gang is bound as one, the dancers are full of individuality. They each have their own inflection, nuance and rhythm.

After the body roll, the group breaks apart, still standing on the plank but weaving and stretching with flailing limbs. There is no gender-exclusive choreography. In Chris’ gang, the men and the women are equal players.

“To me, it’s not pop choreography in the classic way,” Letissier said. “I think it’s the feeling of having more of a clique behind me. The unison that gives it more power. It’s tougher.”

But Letissier proves – as Martha Graham once said – that movement never lies.

In Girlfriend, it’s not just gender stereotypes that are stripped away. As much as there is acting involved, the dancers move with unaffected grace. They’re people before dancers. They reflect the real world, all the while living inside a glorious groove. – The New York Times