PLOT: A chaotic experience about life, loss, and sorrow told through the lens of experimental dance.
LOWDOWN: Mark Pellington is a visual mastermind that’s been exploring the themes of grief and the observation of complex emotions throughout his entire career. The Mothman Prophecies (MY REVIEW HERE) is an underrated modern classic that subverted a monster movie into personal drama, while Nostalgia straight-up deals with the sentimental memories we hold as absolutes. Pellington has spent most of his career playing within the system while never playing it safe. As punk as one gets, he’s been able to access the art, the emotional weight of a situation, and explore it unconventionally no matter the story.
The Severing is his most ambitious and probably his most polarizing movie yet. But with genuinely bold and vulnerable art, the path forward can’t be the one most taken. Sometimes you got to make your own. Though this experience is emotion told through dance, it’s less about the rhythmic expression. Instead, it focuses solely on the intensity of the actual movements and the character’s passion from it. With zero dialogue, the only hints we get of the vague narrative are by a few texts and a single instance of a dream-like narration. I’m not the most informed guy in the art world, and likely all of this went over my head. But somehow, I found my own interpretation, my emotional connection with the material. Besides some drunken fun at Kingston Mines, I’ve never been a dancer or found it entertaining on its own, yet that didn’t stop me from being completely engrossed by the unique visual gut punch that The Severing delivered.
Filmed in the personal 4:3 aspect ratio and set in an industrial setting, we get put into the minds of these strange silent dancers. Major props to the dancers themselves as this visual language could only work if they had the raw emotion to sell it. Lucky for us, they do. I found myself completely entranced with the pain, anguish, and sadness displayed here. The level of commitment, the vulnerability of self-judgment, and confidence make these strange androgynous characters much more compelling. I connected. I was present, and it led to one hell of an experience.
Credit needs to be given to the fantastic cinematography by Ann Evelin Lawford. She provides each segment with its own personality and life using only natural light. The Severing lives or dies on how they approach the visual style, and Lawford steps up to the challenge. Of course, I can’t forget to mention the music alongside the look. It’s the rug that ties the room together here. It’s a steady haunting ambiance that peaks with a grand experimental rock that could fit nicely on the B-side of Bowie’s Low album. Both subtle and bombastic, this is a mushroom trip of introspection that stuck with me.
GORE: None here, my friend.
BOTTOM LINE: The Severing won’t be for many people and is in no way trying to play to the broader crowd. Like Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, This is both bizarrely captivating and impressively absurd. Yet, I respect Pellington’s approach to making something so extraordinary eccentric that most won’t get it, yet deal with subject matter that everyone can relate to. Do I get it? Probably not, but I felt it, and that might matter more. My interpretation won’t align with yours, and I believe that was purposefully baked into the cake. The Severing is its own beast that has no intention of holding your hand. If you can get on its particular wavelength and accept the visual approach, this may hit you hard, as it did me. If you’re willing to take the ride, it’s a fascinating trip.