“[It was] more important for me to bring our culture to Coachella instead of bringing out my flower crown,” Beyoncé says in the behind-the-scenes footage from her concert film, Homecoming (Beyoncé 2019). Released on Netflix, it features her 2018 Coachella performance, which marked Beyoncé as the first black woman to headline the music festival since its opening in 1999.
The film features scenes of a frustrated, sweaty, and tired Beyoncé unlike we’ve ever seen her. She trips to keep up, works profusely to get back into the dancing shoes and costumes she left behind after becoming unexpectedly pregnant, then birthing her twins, Rumi and Sir in 2017. After resuming training from 218 pounds, her hair is matted, and she proclaims that she is about to pass out. She then tells herself, “shut up, Bey.”
Beyoncé had followed through with months of taxing rehearsals, a rigorous diet of mainly fruits and vegetables, and separation from her family. Snippets of Jay-Z, Blue Ivy, and twins Rumi and Sir show their appearances on set, but these are few and far in between, placed between shots of the 2018 performance itself, and the road to the show. Her sacrifice is for the show’s purpose. Homecoming educates, inspires, and represents the black community, and black feminism on a massive stage, while simultaneously setting Beyoncé apart as a supernova of talent, vision, and work ethic. Homecoming, and Beyoncé, has something to prove. In this paper, I will analyze the conception and strategy of auteur Beyoncé’s film in what has led to (and what will lead from) her performance at Coachella, as presented within Homecoming.
In the most basic terms of its style, Homecoming is a concert film. The song features live versions of a meaty portion of Beyoncé’s discography, highlighting some of her biggest chart-toppers (“Crazy in Love”, “Single Ladies”), and her most controversial (“Partition”, “Formation”). The choice for a concert film comes from a necessity and accessibility of the genre for the singer and the approachability of her message through the format.
Beyoncé had already directed and executive produced a documentary in 2013, Life Is But a Dream (Beyoncé, 2013), and then Lemonade (Beyoncé, 2016). The mini-documentary of her self-titled album, BEYONCÉ, although not directed by Beyoncé, follows similar format to Homecoming. It features Beyoncé in voiceover, incorporations of her music, and clips of the film and concert’s production. Self-Titled (Heinzerling, 2013) was directed by Zachary Heinzerling, but it can be inferred that Beyoncé had her hand in the process, much like everything else attributed to her name.
The TV documentary Life Is But a Dream tracked the popstar’s trajectory from childhood to solo stardom, and in her own words (apart from the testimonies from key witnesses of her upbringing and career, such as her parents and colleagues). Lemonade was different in that it was not a documentary, but still presented a message – this one about womanhood and black feminism – to her audience from her own perspective. Now with Homecoming, Beyoncé displays more directorial control, and a style that has followed the work supplemental to her concert performances.
This is a trend Beyoncé has curated since the 2010s – dropping work that “speaks for itself” (her albums), and then releasing supplemental work, often film, that allows her creative process to shine in another mode of expression apart from speculation that may come from outside interpretations of her craftswomanship. Beyoncé’s exercise of control in her filmmaking is as apparent as her domination over the conception and processes that go into all of her performances, including Homecoming’s Coachella 2018 performance.
The concert film details her handiwork by cutting to and from behind-the-scenes clips that show Beyoncé admonishing her cast and crew while directing staging, music, choreography, and her film. Beyoncé massages and rotates her swollen feet, then rallies to rehearse choreography with her dancers for what is probably the twentieth time. This performance must be perfect. The film also cuts from Beyoncé’s first weekend performance to her second at Coachella – the difference is easily spotted by a change in color, from Beyhive yellow to a bright self-titled, BEYONCÉ-esque pink. The cuts are seamless, and showcase the precision in placement of Beyoncé’s entire setup, from the stance of a dancer to the flash of a light.
Aisha Harris attributes such precision to Beyoncé’s stalwart work ethic in her review for the New York Times: “‘Homecoming’ reinforces the idea that Beyoncé the performer is also Beyoncé the creator…It’s Beyoncé exactly as she wants us to see her and has always wanted us to see her: as a perfectionist, and as the hardest-working person in show business.” The world can list her titles: singer, songwriter, dancer, choreographer, designer, actress, director, producer, businesswoman, philanthropist, and of course, Queen. Harris’ statement is true, even understated. Auteur may be added to the list.
By merit of the renown film critic Andrew Sarris’ theory of the circles of auteurism, Beyoncé may add ‘Auteur’ to her résumé. Sarris says in his theorization “Notes on the Auteur Theory in 1962” that, “the three premises of the auteur theory may be visualized as three concentric circles: the outer circle as technique; the middle circle, personal style; and the inner circle, interior meaning,” (Sarris).
Beyoncé’s formulation of film(s) is confirmation enough of the outer circle. The middle circle, is completed with her positioning of cuts, poetic quotation, herself and her musical prowess throughout her film(s). The completion of the inner circle is nailed to the wall in Homecoming, and Lemonade before it. Beyoncé says in Homecoming, “I feel as if we made something that made my daughter proud, made my mother proud, my father proud, and all of the people that are my brothers and sisters around the world, and that’s why I live…[it] shows them that they are limitless – it’s possible. If my country ass can do it, they can do it.”
Her identity as a black woman, and proponent of proud blackness and womanhood, is abundantly evident in her frank statements and featuring of black artists, authors, and philosophers throughout her work. Beyoncé’s élan is transparent, round, and rich.
The Times’ Aisha Harris also mentions that Beyoncé’s work has always been the subject of speculation, perhaps due to her status as a woman, and a black one. This claim while unfathomable, considering Beyoncé’s mononymic status in the world as a cultural and creative icon, is valid. Black filmmakers who identify as men, such as Jordan Peele, have often been relegated to making black films or seen as responsible for making black films. Similarly, women filmmakers, such as Patty Jenkins, have been noted when making films about women or women’s issues. These filmmakers are seen as experts upon their subject, their identity. So why the doubt over a black woman’s work?
The layering of minority identities acts as a double-negative, canceling out the intersectional expertise that creator may have. Speculation has long followed Beyoncé as an artist, whether it be about her alleged involvement with the Illuminati, her perceived departure and return to blackness in pop music/culture, or her exuberance of sexuality as a gimmick. These criticisms target Beyoncé, but she has consistently risen above, letting her work speak for her – and when she herself speaks, she reveals her reasoning unapologetically as a black woman, while referencing the black women that came before her in order to bolster her voice, and their voice.
Black, woman filmmaker Julie Dash comes to mind – her film Daughters of the Dust (Dash, 1990) is payed homage by Beyoncé in Lemonade. Dash’s inspiration includes the works of Toni Morrison and Alice Walker, both of whom Beyoncé quotes in Homecoming. Jennifer Arntzen from the University of Minnesota had this to say about Dash’s work in her “Voices from the Gaps” biography: “Nonetheless, Dash’s success in pressing the boundaries of today in order to establish the reality of tomorrow can most directly be attributed to her understanding of her own past,” (Arntzen). This statement is undoubtedly transferrable to Beyoncé, as her understanding of black America is evident in her productions and her statements on her work. Beyoncé considers this her duty.
On Instagram, her mother Tina Knowles quotes Beyoncé as saying, “I have worked very hard to get to the point where I have a true voice and at this point in my life and my career I have a responsibility to do what’s best for the world and not what is most popular.”
In Bell Hooks’ 2009 book, “Reel to Real: Race, Sex, and Class at the Movies”, she makes the claim that, “Movies not only provide a narrative for specific discourses of race, sex, and class, they provide a shared experience, a common starting point from which diverse audiences can dialogue about these charged issues,” (Hooks). Beyoncé uses her position as a modern voice, as well as one in dialogue with the past, to have a conversation with her audience. Her audience is arguably the world.
However, speaking on Coachella specifically, this audience consists of those familiar and unfamiliar with her message of the importance of racial representation. Beyoncé’s film implements what Hooks would consider the best way to challenge racism in America: “In the past everyone assumed racism and white supremacy would be challenged and changed in everyday life and that this would lead to a revolution in cinema…reversing this process would pose a more strategic challenge to racism,” (Hooks). By using her superstar status, fans’ desperation for Bey-based content, and a modern desire for pop-cultural knowledge and experience, Beyoncé has enticed and demanded attention to her Coachella show, and Homecoming.
Setting herself apart from race to rise in a white-dominated field, and then proudly showcasing it at the height of her career is strategic, challenging of white America, and poignant to witness.
The concert film style applies her message in appropriate Beyoncé fashion: through her music. Homecoming consistently cuts to and from the music maven onstage, her stage performers, and the adulating crowd. They are all in conversation with each other, and Beyoncé herself about the importance of themes such as femininity and womanhood, sexuality, and historical oppression and celebration of race and blackness. Beyoncé is intentional in this, from her song selections and transitions, to her choreography.
After an assertive performance of “Don’t Hurt Yourself”, a seated Beyoncé expertly and variably riffs upon her song, “I Care”. No flashiness here – just her vocal passion. She wails upon each note, performs runs, and tosses herself from side to side as she embodies each note. This performance means the world to her. From belts, to growls, to twerks, she continues to embellish her argument that identity and expressions of race and sexuality are not singular – they are often intertwined, and that is okay. Fantastically impressive, even. Most of her audience understands this. They sing, shout, dance, cry; all of this is encouraged by Beyoncé. And if they haven’t up until this point, she encourages them to learn.
Beyoncé values education. Not just from filmmakers, Historically Black Colleges and Universities, history itself, or the many black artists she references, but from her family and friends. “So many people who are culturally aware and intellectually sound are graduates of Historically Black Colleges and Universities, including my father. There is something incredibly important about the HBCU experience that must be celebrated and protected.” This quote follows her film, a montage of Coachella practices, and a flurry of headshots of all the performers. It’s all about education and representation.
There is a precious scene in which 7-year-old Blue Ivy sings what is commonly known as the “Black National Anthem”, “Lift Every Voice and Sing”. She pauses, and Beyoncé whispers a lyric in her ear. She continues on, nervous, her small voice trembling. Her mother encourages her, whispers a few more lyrics in her ear, and urges her on. After she finishes, Blue receives applause and praise from her mother. Blue then says, “I wanna do that again…it feels good.”
Having a similar feeling after watching Homecoming, I’d second that, Blue.
Philip Runia 