This on-the-road portrait of singer, performer, model and all-round doyenne of decadence Grace Jones meanders a bit, preferring a loose series of intimate moments to anything too slick or traditional. But with moments like these, who cares? Here’s Jones semi-naked in fur enjoying a champagne breakfast in a Paris hotel. And here she is in her birthplace, Jamaica, talking tough on the phone when it’s proving hard to entice music legends Sly and Robbie into the studio to record with her.
Sophie Fiennes’s film occasionally cuts to what she does best – performance. A series of onstage scenes culminate with green lasers bouncing off Jones’s glitterball-style Philip Treacy hat while she grooves to ‘Love Is the Drug’. There’s no archive footage, no talking heads, no easily digestible timeline. ‘Bloodlight and Bami’ defiantly reflects the experimental whirlwind of Jones’s existence: her ability to look and feel relevant decades since she started out.
And if Jones looks and sounds remarkable, she can let loose with her tongue too. ‘I’ve been around the block too many times,’ she says, not suffering fools gladly. ‘Around the globe, more like. Fuck the block!’