However, the film’s treatment of Lily’s epilepsy shows a subtlety and cinematic finesse that elevates it from pastiche. Temporal lobe epilepsy induces uncontrollable and violent seizures in an individual, which result in multi-sensory hallucinations. Higgins’ use of abstract colour sequences, voice-over, dreamscape visuals and audio give fresh insight into this otherwise impenetrable condition. We are witness to one of these fits from a voyeuristic perspective only once, near the film’s end – an important distinction from the book, in which we remain solely inside Lily’s head – with Higgins making full use of his medium’s visual impact: the sight of Lily, grotesquely distorted, is shocking. Agyness Deyn’s commitment to role and total transformation (shocking in itself) is a credit to her.
In this way, it is a film about abnormality, what it means to appear monstrous – to society and to oneself – what it means to shock and be shocked. Lily has been a ‘freak’ all her life, yet she seems the only dignified character in the film, her supposed deformity reflected in the exaggerated and morally corrupt figures that emerge along her journey, looming from the dark like those in a freak-show corridor. Despite this, the outlook is hopeful, pioneering human kindness and empathy. A little hyperbolic and rough around the edges, Electricity remains a thought-provoking film, awakening the senses in a synesthetic attack.
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