So far, between Kelly Oxford’s “Pink Skies Ahead” and Angel Kristi Williams’ “Really Love,” AFI Fest has delivered some incredible first-features from directors. Maya Cozier’s “She Paradise” is the newest addition to the team. From a narrative perspective, “She Paradise” reminds one of Numa Perrier’s “Jezebel.” Both films center themselves on young Black women who are liberated through their sexuality. In the case of “Jezebel,” it’s Tiffany (Tiffany Tenille) becoming a webcam model to support her cash-strapped family. With “She Paradise,” it’s the seventeen-year-old Sparkle (Onessa Nestor).
Living as an orphan with her soft-spoken grandfather (Michael Cherrie), the pair calls his engraving shop home. But business has been slow for him. So to make ends meet, Sparkle finds a free-spirited all-woman dance-troupe looking for new members for the upcoming carnival season. When Sparkle enters into their world, she unearths a seedy milieu of drugs and predatory men. The dangers they pose are all too real. But more than a wild ride, Cozier’s debut, “She Paradise,” is a personal note to Trinidadian culture that tenderly expresses a young girl’s pursuit for bodily freedom.
The coming of age story plants its roots in Sparkle. When she comes upon the trio of Diamond (Kimberly Crichton), Shan (Denisia Latchman), and Mica (Chelsey Rampersad) they chide for dressing like a twelve-year old. Even with their jokes, Sparkle is immediately attracted to the trio’s scanty colorful shorts, their powerful twerking, and the attention they attract. For a girl ever under the watchful eye of her prudent grandfather — who fears she might venture down the same wild path as her mother — the freedom Diamond’s trio offers is more than enticing. It’s revelatory. It’s like seeing a rainbow when you’ve lived in the desert your whole life. And Sparkle needs to know what’s at the end of that rainbow. It feels like if she doesn’t find out, she’ll suffocate. She’ll choke from her grandfather disliking her revealing attire (Safia Elena Ali and Shandelle Loregnard provide electric costume work). She’ll succumb to his accusations of being a “jamette” (a slut). Sparkle needs this escape.
“She Paradise” began as a short, and Cozier’s directorial experiences stem from her work on music videos, and sometimes that background explains the film’s slight story. Occasionally, the evocative visuals take greater importance over building out every character. While Mica, and the troupe’s unflinching leader Diamond, are fully sketched, in a script co-written between Cozier and Melina Brown, Shan is left out. Running at 75 minutes, “She Paradise” might have done with an additional 15 minutes to fully flush her out. Even so, Sparkle’s journey is so gripping in its authenticity that such doubts are quickly washed away.
Even so, the inexperienced dancer struggles to fit in with Diamond’s dance troupe. Mostly because she lacks the confidence required to pull off their alluring routines. It’s Mica who takes the young woman under her wing. Rampersad and Nestor share early chemistry, one that mirrors closer to a forbidden fruit than friendship. See, Sparkle isn’t ready for Mica’s open sexuality. It takes her by surprise. In one scene, Mica pulls a lollipop from her mouth and offers Sparkle a chance to suck it. But the young woman soon blossoms, not just with regards to trusting her own body, but with dancing, too. Nestor gives a breakout performance. Between her knowing glances and her athleticism, she carefully builds out her character.
But much like Tiffany Tenille in “Jezebel,” Nestor emits a beguiling sincerity. Consider the moment Skinny (Kern Mollineau) enters into Sparkle’s orbit. A music producer and rapper, Skinny hires Diamond’s troupe for his music videos. More specifically, he wants Sparkle. He grooms and preys upon her. Nestor moves from projecting meekness to transitioning to confidence, and then abject fear. Because Sparkle’s real journey, beyond the dancing and friendship with the dance trio, is finding some autonomy. She’s searching for personal freedom beyond her grandfather, beyond Skinny, and even beyond Diamond, who has the tendency to victim blame.
Cozier’s entrancing vision of female self-determination is textured by Jackson Warner Lewis’ captivating photography discovering Trinidad’s rich party scene. Amidst tight frames soaked in blue lights, and employing handheld camerawork, Lewis records the women looking out for each other among predatory men. The dance sequences, infused with Soca music (“soul of calypso”) bursts with the exciting African and Caribbean elements inherent in the genre. The climactic cavorting, when the quartet dance for Skinny’s music video, is a breathtaking fury of liberating movement. It’s a vibrant Black culture on display. It’s a sensual reverie for independence. Cozier, even when the tone of “She Paradise” takes an unsettling turn, keeps a steady hand. “She Paradise” is a love letter not only to the autonomy of a young Black woman but the culture of a proud island nation, too. [B]