Lana Del Rey and the Belladonna of Sadness

Hearing Lana Del Rey's Born to Die for the first time had awaken something inside me. Her soulful melancholy filled a space in my soul I never knew existed. Her intoxicating voice reminded me of the sirens in Greek mythology. Instead of leading me astray, however, she was calling me home.

Over the years, with every album, I fall more deeply in love with Lana's music. Her songs are grounded in an incredibly genuine femininity that is rare in our modern age. Unlike so many other female artists, the sexuality embedded into her music isn't fetishized. Even songs with titles like Lolita aren’t about selling sex. In of itself, it's about the experience of feeling and being sexual. When her entire discography is taken into account, it also becomes a part of the artists coming of age journey from a young passionate girl to a woman who is aware and empowered by her sexuality.

While I really appreciate the sex positivity, what I love most about Lana's songs is how they express sadness. Her melodic voice and graceful lyrics speak of yearning and loss so profound that it transcends time and space. There is a sense of loneliness that comes with being born with a certain disposition and she captures this essence for all the lonely travelers that have ever walked this earth.

But Lana doesn't dwell on sadness nor does she stew in defeat. Woven throughout the pain of a tortured soul, there is a beauty that arises from faith. So while there is pain, there is also an ecstasy that comes only after the release of pain.

For anyone who is likewise captivated by the unique beauty of Lana Del Rey, I highly recommend the 1973 anime, Belladonna of Sadness (Kanashimi no Belladonna).

Just as Lana's music is a sound I've never heard before, the animation style of Belladonna is most original. The movie is comprised of a series of paintings with the camera slowly panning over it. In addition to typical Japanese anime features, it also incorporate influences from western art, both classic and modern. One can see glimpses of Gustav Klimt as well as psychedelic imageries that were quite popular in the late 60s.

The story follows a woman named Jeanne. It begins on the night of her wedding, when she was violently raped by her feudal lord. From that moment on, her life was plagued with one act of injustice after another. She was defiled for her beauty, hated for her intelligence and feared for her grace. But no matter how cruelly people treated her, she never reciprocated in kind.

Woven into the fabrics of this story is an eroticism that is both blissful and grotesque as well as moments of horrifying violence. Embroidered over this, however, is a feminism that is beyond political and demonstrate ageless feminine virtues.

Jeanne represents femininity as well as how society views it. While our heroine bears humiliation and suffering with the internal strength of Atlas, those around her assume her to be weak because she doesn't resort to violence and hatred. While she displays her intelligence and power through her work, she doesn't desire power or control over others. This is utterly contradictory to modern political feminism, which still centres itself upon a traditionally masculine definition of power.

Through it all, underlying all of Jeanne's trails and glory is her undeniable need to be herself, regardless of consequences. While she may be shamed in the judgement of society, she never once apologized for who she is. She remains true to herself to the very bitter end.

Although the story is sad, it is also triumphant for it is a celebration of womanhood. It addresses all the qualities of women that is feared by oppressive patriarchy and presents it proudly without succumbing to the temptation of adopting the vices of its oppressor. It makes no comment on how others choose to live their lives but focuses only on how one woman chooses to live hers.