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Tag: Christian Breslauer

  • Ariana Grande’s “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” Video: A Postmodernist’s Wet Dream

    Ariana Grande’s “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” Video: A Postmodernist’s Wet Dream

    It’s safe to say that, of all the pop stars working today (apart from, of course, Madonna), Ariana Grande is the one most blatantly enamored of postmodernism—wherein no distinction exists between high and low art, and references galore are placed in a “pastiche blender.” Even more than her contemporaries, Lana Del Rey and Taylor Swift, Grande is the most obvious in how she’ll take a piece of pop culture and “reinterpret” it. Though perhaps some would say she’s merely recreating it, shot-for-shot, à la Gus Van Sant with Psycho. That much can practically be said of the video for her second single from Eternal Sunshine, “we can’t be friends (wait for your love).” This following her other pastiche-drenched video for “yes, and?,” which is a knockoff of Paula Abdul’s “Cold Hearted” video. 

    As with “yes, and?,” Christian Breslauer also directed “we can’t be friends (wait for your love),” marking their second collaboration. Perhaps they didn’t end up working together sooner due to Grande’s long-standing devotion to Hannah Lux Davis, who has brought us so many Grande music videos over the years, including “Bang Bang,” “Love Me Harder,” “Focus,” “Into You,” “Side to Side,” “breathin,” “thank u, next” (also filled with movie-related pastiche), “7 rings,” “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored,” “boyfriend” and “Don’t Call Me Angel.”

    But “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” has a different vibe from all of those aforementioned light-hearted videos (of which, even “breathin” was more light-hearted than this). Suffused with the kind of melancholia and restraint that comes in the wake of a breakup, Grande and Breslauer take what Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman did in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and distill it down to four minutes and forty-three seconds (something Kaufman would likely be horrified by). Starting with Grande being in the waiting room of “Brighter Days Inc.” (dumbed down from the more “esoteric” company name in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Lacuna Inc.—lacuna meaning “an unfilled space; a gap”), Grande’s penchant for pastiche might even extend to the 2004 (also when Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was released) video for Gwen Stefani’s “What You Waiting For?” In it, Stefani also finds her in a dubious, nondescript waiting room filling out a form filled with odd questions (e.g., “Do you like the smell of gasoline?”). Except it isn’t to help erase her memory, but rather, “be inspired” a.k.a. get rid of her writer’s block. Grande doesn’t tend to have any issues with that, especially when she’s in her “after a breakup/new relationship” phase. 

    Riffing on Clementine Kruczynski’s (Kate Winslet) look, Grande sits in the waiting room of Brighter Days Inc.—an air of uncertainty about her—styled in a fur-trim coat, tights with knee-high boots (featuring a 70s-esque flower pattern) and a flower flourish drawn in white around her eye. This particular detail gives more Katy Perry than Clementine vibes (especially in the former’s hippie-dippy “Never Really Over” video), but it’s part of Grande’s own spin on the character. Which now also incorporates some version of herself thanks to her recent experience of wanting to erase the memory of a botched relationship. Namely, the one that resulted in her two-year marriage to Dalton Gomez. Hence, like Joel Barish (Jim Carrey, who Grande is a well-known fan of), we see Grande-as-“Peaches” (a none too subtle allusion to Clementine) filling out a form that basically denies Brighter Days Inc. any legal responsibility for what might happen after the procedure—including a lingering and barely dormant sense of regret. 

    So it is that we see “Peaches” checking the “Yes” box under the statement, “You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give Brighter Days Inc. the exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your memory.” Clementine herself, of course, didn’t give much extensive thought to it, later telling Joel, “You know me, I’m impulsive.” Peaches is likely the same way, simply wanting to rid herself of the pain that comes from remembering a failed relationship. Thus, despite seeing the anxiousness radiating from her as she resolves to go through with the decision, Peaches knows that it’s “for the best.” 

    Watching the “technicians” remove key mementos of the relationship from the box she brought in (the same way the patients in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind do), viewers soon see the wall of the “operating room” open up behind her (kind of the way the wall opens up behind Miley Cyrus in the “Used To Be Young” video) to reveal the first memory to be scraped. The one that relates to the tiny teddy bear in the box. A bear plucked from what the Brits (and Arctic Monkeys) call a teddy picker by Grande’s ex, played by Evan Peters…who is labeled simply as “Lover” where credited (how Swiftian). The memory then starts to black-out around her (the same way it does for Joel just as he’s remembering all the “good stuff” he loved about being with Clementine). Startled by the abyssal nature of the process, this is the moment where the lyrics, “Me and my truth, we sit in silence/Mmm, baby girl it’s just me and you.” And as the very “Dancing On My Own” by Robyn beat swells again, the blackness around her is replaced by another memory, one in which Lover’s back is turned to her in bed. While she sits up in the place next to him, it’s as though the two are at the point in their relationship where things have become strained, and words have lost all meaning. 

    From this memory, Grande runs out to open the door, leading her into a snow-filled landscape where “Brighter Days” of them making snow angels together exist. This being Grande’s version of Joel and Clementine lying on the ice of the frozen-over Charles River (though, in actuality, that scene was filmed in Yorktown Heights). A “cut” is then made by way of a sheet falling over the scene to transition us from Peaches lying on the snow to Peaches lying in bed with Lover (side note: the sheets’ pattern gives off a decidedly “hospital bed” feel—maybe an unwitting allusion to how love makes you crazy). And in the same way that Clementine is literally yanked away from Joel while they’re lying on the ice together, so, too, is Lover while he and Peaches are looking at each other with the same loving fondness in bed. 

    In the next scene, Breslauer cuts to the memory box again, as a technician picks up a framed photo of the two arranged in “Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald) and Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling) pose” with a cake between them, exactly as it was in John Hughes’ Sixteen Candles. It is at this moment that viewers might realize Grande is incapable of sticking to just one movie as a visual reference point (even with “34+35,” she couldn’t “only” refer to Austin Powers with her fembot aesthetic….there had to be a Frankenstein premise as well)—something we saw at a peak in “thank u, next.” A video that, although it wields Mean Girls as its primary inspiration, also sees fit to devolve into nods to Bring It On, Legally Blonde and 13 Going on 30. 

    While it’s unclear if Lover is doing this Sixteen Candles homage deliberately because he knows how much Peaches adores the movie or it’s simply another instance of Grande incorporating a pop culture reference apropos of nothing (which is understandable, as many women and gay men’s minds function that way), the point is that Lover disappears from the picture just as they lean into kiss one another over the birthday candles (something that was just as stressful to watch in Sixteen Candles for those fearing a fire hazard). Sitting there alone as the lyric, “So for now, it’s only me/And maybe that’s all I need” plays, Grande blows out the candles before we see the map of her brain again. In the style of Joel freaking out when the “eraser guys” manage to find Clementine hidden within a memory of his childhood (a suggestion made by Clementine so that he could hold onto her in some way even after the process), Grande starts panicking and crying before the computer flashes a sign that reads, “Relinking.” 

    In another memory still, we see Grande on the couch with Lover as he presents her with a necklace that then turns into a dog collar before Lover himself is transformed into a dog (for, as Birds of Prey taught us, dogs are the animals women are most likely to replace men with). This is where Grande takes the most liberties with her reinterpretation of the movie, for it seems that Brighter Days Inc. isn’t just capable of erasing memories, but also reworking them entirely. As such, the interior decor around her continues to, let’s say, shapeshift, while the TV in front of her plays back the memories one last time before we see Peaches shaking hands with the doctor and nurse for doing their job, the procedure now over. 

    The image of the box of memories, teddy bear and all, being incinerated then leads into Peaches walking down a street with a new boyfriend and passing Lover with his new girlfriend, neither party registering any kind of recognition. And just like that, Peaches forgets all about her pain. Just as viewers might forget all about the original Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. But that’s what pastiche is about: subverting collective memories for the sake of consumption.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • “Yes, And?” Video Pays Unexpected Tribute to Paula Abdul’s “Cold Hearted”

    “Yes, And?” Video Pays Unexpected Tribute to Paula Abdul’s “Cold Hearted”

    “I miss the old Ari. You know, the singer.” So says one of the many invitees (all critics) to Ariana Grande’s performance art piece in Montauk (the location of which is given via the latitude and longitude coordinates on the business card shown at the beginning of the video). This milieu being significant because Grande’s seventh album is titled Eternal Sunshine—an obvious nod to Michel Gondry’s beloved 2004 film of the (almost) same name. Considering Grande’s dating history, the premise of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is rather on point. As is her choreo (courtesy of Will Loftis) throughout the heavily-inspired-by-Paula Abdul video. Indeed, one might as well call “yes, and?” a “modern update” to Abul’s 1989 video for “Cold Hearted,” the fifth single from her debut album, Forever Your Girl. 

    Directed by none other than David Fincher, “Cold Hearted” continued the trend (established by Madonna, as usual) of pop stars dancing in front of elaborate industrial set pieces (see: the “Express Yourself” video, also directed by David Fincher, and the “Rhythm Nation” video). “yes, and?” builds on that by centering the premise around a “living art exhibition,” of sorts. So it is that, just as is the case in “Cold Hearted,” “yes, and?” offers a caption at the beginning. But instead of reading, “Tuesday 9:45 a.m. The Rehearsal Hall. The Record Company Executives Arrive,” it reads, “11:55 AM. The Critics Arrive.” All of them with something snarky to say (in the spirit of the intro to Missy Elliott’s “Gossip Folks”). Including two critics who have the exchange, “Did she really do that?” “Well I read it on the internet so it must be true.” This replacing the once more relevant go-to line of sarcasm: “I saw it on TV so it must be true.” 

    They then enter the warehouse-y space where a series of “stone sculptures” stand in highly deliberate poses as the critics take their seats. The “Ari sculpture” is at the center of them all, posed with her hands over her eyes to indicate the classic “see no evil” philosophy. Or, in this case, “see no haters.” As the critics start to get impatient with what they’re supposed to be getting out of this little “exhibit,” the sculptures break apart and fall to the ground as the actual people they’re modeled after appear on the scene. Directed by Christian Breslauer (marking his first collaboration with Grande), the camera then focuses in on Grande’s feet before panning up the length of her legs to then reveal an aesthetic that is entirely reminiscent of Keira Knightley’s in Love Actually. Because what is Ari if not adept in the art of pastiche (though perhaps not as much as her one-time collaborator, Lana Del Rey)? As any post-post-post-post-post-post-modern pop star tends to be. 

    Continuing to emulate Abdul and co.’s fierce, defiant choreography, Grande offers occasional moments of “Renaissance painting poses” to keep reiterating the notion of being living art. Or, as Del Rey said, “I had a vision of making my life a work of art.” As such, that technically means she can be critiqued herself as much as the art she actually puts out. Hence, the presence of the critics subbing out Paula Abdul’s record executives. 

    Critics who can’t help “gagging” when Grande urges, “And if you find yourself in a dark situation/Just turn on your light and be like/Yes, and?” The musical breakdown just before she urges people to “turn their light on” sounds a lot like the one in Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy.” But considering Grande is giving a massive homage to dance and house music of the 90s in general (including, of course, Madonna’s “Vogue”), it’s not out of the question that the “nod” is deliberate. At the moment she talks about people turning their (inner) lights on, a heating lamp lights up above the critics’ head, as though to envelop them in the same warm glow she’s chosen to bask in no matter what gets said about her. Some critics don’t exactly “like” it, with one starting to sweat profusely as he wipes his forehead with a napkin in a manner that could also indicate Grande’s body (“too thin” or not) is getting him hot and bothered (the same way Paula Abdul gets the record executives in her video).

    As all the art critics proceed to start removing articles of clothing under the heat of the lamp, Grande approaches with, let’s call it an “aura tuning fork,” as she calmly recites the bridge of the song: “My tongue is sacred, I speak upon what I like/Protected, sexy, discerning with my time/Your energy is yours and mine is mine/What’s mine is mine/My face is sitting, I don’t need no disguise/Don’t comment on my body, do not reply.”

    Of course, that demand likely won’t stop the usual barrage of body commentary that rakes in the millions for the beauty and fashion industries. In the final line of the bridge, Grande then wields her coup de ​​grâce, “Why do you care so much whose dick I ride/Why?” Probably because the dick is Ethan Slater’s and it’s kind of weird/non sequitur (Wicked co-star or not). Even more than choosing “Cold Hearted” as a piece of pop culture to emulate. 

    But anyway, the “yes, and?” then concludes with another shot re-creation from the “Cold Hearted” video, with the curtain dropping off the window while Ariana and co. return to their same positions as statues made of stone to then await the next batch of critics they’ll perform for. The first batch, meanwhile, has turned from the stone statues they were before walking into the warehouse and into warm hearted lovers of Ariana as one of them shouts with delight to the others going in, “You’ll just love it! You’ll love it.”

    The same “conversion” from hater to lover goes for the record executives in “Cold Hearted,” who enter the building with the cynical exchange, “So have you even seen this dance?” “Uh, I haven’t but, uh, it’s a Bob Fosse kind of thing. It’s gonna be really really hot.” “Yeah but tastefully. It’s tastefully hot. And hey, if there’s any problem, we can always make changes.” The director of the video nervously reminds, “Uh, we’re shootin’ tonight.” But of course, there’s no need to change a thing because, by the end (just as it is the case in “yes, and?”), the execs are left with their jaws dropped. Though, of course, all they can say is it was “nice.” So it is that Abdul’s video concludes with the caption, “The dancers laugh.” Probably at the fact that it’s so hard for critics to admit when something is good (though, in their defense, that’s quite possibly because things rarely are). Especially when the artist in question’s personal life has a tendency to cloud the focus on the work itself. 

    In this sense, pulling from Paul Abdul’s video arsenal does make some sense when tying this message back into the concept of the “Cold Hearted” premise.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Doja Cat’s “Demons” Video Is the Scariest Thing Christina Ricci Has Ever Starred In

    Doja Cat’s “Demons” Video Is the Scariest Thing Christina Ricci Has Ever Starred In

    As one of pop culture’s main “Queens of Spook,” Christina Ricci’s presence in anything haunted, eerie, ghostly or generally “demonic” is usually a no-brainer (this being why she chose to join the cast of Tim Burton’s [highly watered-down] Wednesday in a role apart from Wednesday Addams herself…though no one will ever hold a candle to her 90s-era performance). What does feel a bit “off-brand” for the actress, however, is appearing in a Doja Cat video just because it happens to have a scary premise. And, to be sure, the Christian Breslauer/Doja-directed offering is probably the most chilling narrative (even if more than slightly filched from Poltergeist) Ricci has ever been a part of.

    Where other films of the beloved former child actress have always been in a more “light-hearted spirit” of scariness (e.g., The Addams Family and Casper), this particular addition to her “filmography” is a no holds barred fright fest with Doja in the eponymous role of one of the homogenous-looking demons that stalks the house. Opening with a “For Sale” sign that has a “Sold” sticker on it, the camera zooms in closer to said abode, its low angle pointed upward toward the bedroom before we find ourselves in the interior of that second floor, where an immediate homage to 1982’s Poltergeist can be seen as the static on the TV illuminates the room. The room that, we soon find out, belongs to Christina Ricci. Meanwhile, her children continue to sleep…totally unbothered by the demonic force that appears to relish plaguing only Ricci. Accordingly, a not-so-peacefully sleeping Ricci opens her eyes intuitively as Demon Doja crawls out from behind the TV, hangs upside down in the corner and proceeds to arrogantly demand, “How my demons look (how them demons)?/Now that my pockets full? (ayy, ayy, ayy, yeah, ayy)/How my demons look (ayy, yeah)?/Now that you bitches shook (bitch)?”

    With a backing beat that has echoes of Busta Rhymes’ 1998 track, “Gimme Some More” (which itself samples from the Psycho theme), Doja’s aggressive tone punctuates the sinister sonic landscape produced by ​D.A. Got That Dope (which doesn’t have quite the same ring as Mike WiLL Made-It). And as Ricci lies in bed seemingly paralyzed by a combination of shock and fear (so often one and the same), Demon Doja inches closer to Ricci while still on the ceiling. She then taunts her with such “flexes” as, “You look like me…in your dreams”—while said in the guise of a horrifying hellhound (this somewhat harkening back to the absurdity of Doja posting an unflattering photo of her face and labeling it a “thirst trap”). From the ceiling, she then ends up back at the edge of the bed, her claw-like hand slithering up the side of the frame in what itself feels like a nod to Freddy Krueger in Nightmare on Elm Street.

    And, on that note, the next scene takes place in the bathtub, where “Human” Doja (if there still is such a thing) sits in black, sludge-like water as the demonic hand again slithers out from the water, Krueger-style. Breslauer and Doja then pan up into the attic where Demon Doja and two doppelganger hellhounds revel in their general evilness, crawling around and growling at the camera.

    Having already directed Doja Cat’s videos for “Streets” and “Freaky Deaky” (which owes a great debt to Clueless and “Erotica”), Breslauer is no stranger to cultivating un certain aesthetic for Doja. One that often features vibrantly-hued cinematography that belies the seedy overtones of whatever theme Doja is focusing on (in the instance of “Streets,” that includes a slew of zombie-like men busting through concrete from beneath the streets to get a look at Doja writhing around on the hood of a cab). In this “Demons” scenario, that vibrancy still exists even if the muted color palette favors mostly blacks, browns and grays throughout.

    Incidentally, the one noticeable pop of red (the color associated with the devil Doja reveres so much these days), veering near pink, is the top Ricci wears after changing out of her pajamas and making a beeline for the video camera (more specifically, the kind of video camera that requires a VHS tape). Because, clearly, she’s going to want to document this demonic presence if anyone is ever going to believe her (this, too, smacking of Casper). Climbing up the ladder that leads to the attic with her weighty video camera in tow, Ricci catches a glimpse of Demon Doja in her human form again—this time wearing a shirt that reads: “Cash Cow.” Needless to say, this is an undoubted reference to 1) the fact that her first big hit was called “MOOO!” (during which she declares, “Bitch, I’m a cow, bitch, I’m a cow”) and 2) how she recently wrote off her last two records, Hot Pink and Planet Her, as unapologetic “cash grabs.”

    Pointing her flashlight in Doja’s direction, closer inspection reveals that she’s typing at a typewriter (will any of Doja’s Gen Z fans understand what that is?), in what appears to be another slight horror movie nod…this time, to Jack Torrance in The Shining. Among the “cheeky phrases” she’s writing out? “I’m a puppet, I’m a sheep, I’m a cash cow.” And yet, the animals she’s surrounded by in this scene are goats. This hardly seems like a coincidence as this particular animal is frequently associated with ritual sacrifice. And since Doja is on that dripping demonic titty lately, it makes sense. And yes, the other animals she mentions in her lyrics (cows and sheep) are also “favorites” on the ritual sacrifice front (you know, apart from virgins).

    Continuing her typing, Doja adds (in her version of Kendrick Lamar singing “Humble” intonation), “I’m the fastest-growing bitch on all your apps now/You are tired of me ’cause I’m on your ass now/You are mad at me ’cause I am all they slap now/I can nap now/Lots of people that were sleeping say I rap now/Lots of people’s hopes and dreams are finally trashed now/Lots of people say they met me in the past now/I done took the spotlight and made ’em black out/I done took the whole dick and blew my back out.” If that’s true, it still isn’t stopping Demon Doja from being diabolical through her physical movements as the video switches into “nightshot” mode in conjunction with Ricci’s video camera. All while her two now-awake children are downstairs watching the static on the TV. Because, indeed, the Poltergeist tribute remains the most consistent, with all the appliances in the kitchen going haywire as Demon Doja whirls around on a chair among her fellow demons.

    At this point, Ricci essentially throws her hands up in the air and flees the fucking scene with her kids. Recently-made down payment be damned. Better that than being damned herself due to staying in the house. It is here, too, that a deeper, more insidious symbolism arises if one is to look at the video as a study in how the proverbial white family is scared of any “black presence” that infiltrates its space. Of course, Doja doesn’t seem like the type to actually try at conveying this form of a Jordan Peele-esque statement, and yet, with “Demons,” it seems difficult to ignore such symbolism.

    Red-eyed and causing mayhem by simply “expressing herself” (however unconventionally), Doja is scaring the white folks because she’s Black and belligerent (ergo the appropriateness of a line like, “How my demons look?/Now that you bitches shook?”). A Black rage that can only be expressed by getting up close and personal enough to make someone like Ricci’s “character” actually notice it. For, once the white person closes their door, they’re even blinder than usual to racial injustice. And then, apparently, when they’re forced to be confronted with it, they have the luxury of still turning (nay, running) away from it regardless. As Ricci and her brood eventually do by the conclusion of “Demons.” But that seems to suit Doja just fine, with this result also being an additional metaphor for how little she cares about alienating (demonating?) anyone.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • SZA’s “Kill Bill” Video: A Sequel, of Sorts, to the Equally Tarantino-Influenced “Shirt”

    SZA’s “Kill Bill” Video: A Sequel, of Sorts, to the Equally Tarantino-Influenced “Shirt”

    By now, paying homage to Quentin Tarantino movies in music videos and songs has been done to death (no pun intended, or whatever). Among others, there was Lady Gaga and Beyoncé’s “Telephone,” Iggy Azalea and Rita Ora’s “Black Widow,” Aminé’s “Caroline” (also featuring the lyrics, “Let’s get gory/Like a Tarantino movie”) and Rob $tone’s “Chill Bill” (complete with what has become known as “the Kill Bill whistle” a.k.a. the Bernard Hermann-composed theme for 1968’s Twisted Nerve). Being that Tarantino himself is the king of delivering postmodern pastiche, he likely isn’t (/can’t be) vexed in the least by all this constant “homage” (often a polite word for stealing someone else’s shit and trying to make the public assume it’s your own). Especially not SZA’s latest, “Kill Bill,” which not only goes whole hog on a Tarantino reference in the song title itself, but also in the music video that goes with it.

    Of course, no one who watched the Dave Meyers-directed “Shirt” video (that was also heavily influenced by Tarantino) can be surprised by the tone of its “follow-up,” of sorts. Granted LaKeith Stanfield isn’t the one to betray her trust in the trailer modeled after Budd’s (Michael Madsen) in Kill Bill: Vol. 2. This time directed by Christian Breslauer (known for videos like Lil Nas X’s “Industry Baby,” Tyga and Doja Cat’s “Freaky Deaky” and Anitta’s “Boys Don’t Cry”), SZA spares no detail on really driving the (Pussy Wagon) point home that this is all about showing love for a Tarantino classic that itself shows nothing but love for the idea of killing an ex.

    And, like Beatrix Kiddo (Uma Thurman), SZA only feels obliged to exact that kind of revenge because her erstwhile boyfriend tried to kill her first. In matters of love, that usually tends to be more metaphorical. But by making it literal, SZA (de facto Tarantino) emphasizes how fragile the heart can be. Particularly when handed a note by one’s boo that reads, “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, really I do, but sometimes in life we have to protect our own heart, even if it means ripping it out of our chest. Au revoir mon amour.” In other words, he’s trying to say that 1) he has to be callous now and 2) he’s only hurting himself more than he’s hurting her by deciding to leave—and then summoning a bunch of his goons to shoot up the trailer. Such sentiments echo Bill’s delusions before aiming his gun at Beatrix, assuring her, “I’d like to believe that you’re aware enough even now to know that there’s nothing sadistic in my actions… No Kiddo, at this moment, this is me at my most masochistic.” And then—bang! He thinks he’s killed her.

    The same goes for SZA’s ex thinking she’s been left for dead in that trailer. But no, she emerges semi-triumphant and determined to take down the bastard who would presume to do such a thing to her as she sings, “I’m still a fan even though I was salty/Hate to see you with some other broad, know you happy/Hate to see you happy if I’m not the one drivin’.” This last line conjures the image of Beatrix herself driving to get to Bill’s house as she vows to the audience, “I am gonna kill Bill.” In a scene that Thurman had to fuck up her back and knees for in order to give Tarantino the shot he wanted. But surely Tarantino would shrug that off as a “hazard of the trade.” And besides, he might add, look at not only the great art it created, but the great art it’s still spawning. Ah, the director when his “ego” is stroked in such a way—with imitation being the sincerest form of allowing one to believe in their continued relevance.

    To further accentuate her commitment to the film, SZA even drags out Vivica A. Fox, who played Vernita Green a.k.a. Copperhead, to serve as her driver (and flash a scandalized look when SZA mellifluously croons, “I just killed my ex/Not the best idea”). The one taking her from her trailer to the dojo where she can quickly practice some swordplay techniques but mainly show us how her tits look in her version of Beatrix Kiddo’s iconic yellow moto jacket and matching pants. Breslauer then cuts to her riding a motorcycle through a tunnel (just as Kiddo did), after which we suddenly see SZA in the same House of the Blue Leaves-esque setting where Kiddo took on the Crazy 88s. This then segues into Breslauer including a scene that mimics the same anime style of Kazuto Nakazawa in Kill Bill: Vol. 1, used when even Tarantino thought the gore would be too cartoonishly over the top, so he actually made it into, well, a cartoon.

    For SZA’s purposes, it was likely less burdensome on the budget to display her taking her final revenge on the man who broke her heart in animated form. And she does so in such a way as to throw the words he used in his note right back in his face by tearing his heart out of his chest. Which we see dripping with blood in “real-life” once she’s extracted it (by briefly making him believe she wants something sexual instead of violent to happen) in her animated guise. Parading it in her hand with calm blitheness, she then licks it—something that, to be honest, feels pulled out of the Jeffrey Dahmer playbook rather than the Beatrix Kiddo one. But hey, creative license and all that rot when reinterpreting someone’s work.

    Which SZA did not only visually, but cerebrally. Specifically by claiming of Bill’s motives, “I feel like he doesn’t understand why he did what he did. He’s void of emotion, but he loved The Bride so much that he couldn’t stand her to be with anyone else. That was really complex and cool to me. It’s a love story.” But there’s nothing “complex” or “cool” about it (which speaks to how Tarantino has normalized psychopathic behavior by making it seem, let’s say, “slick”). What’s more, Bill himself breaks down his straightforward “reasoning” for killing her (or so he thought) by admitting to Beatrix what he was thinking at the time of concocting her murder: “Not only are you not dead, you’re getting married to some fucking jerk and you’re pregnant. I overreacted… I’m a killer. I’m a murdering bastard. You know that. There are consequences to breaking the heart of a murdering bastard.” In this scenario, SZA wants to be the murdering bastard. Just as Kiddo did after suffering the “slight” that went on during the Massacre at Two Pines.

    In the end, though, SZA does feel obliged to provide her own little (rope) “twist” on the narrative. Having commenced the video with a snippet of “Nobody Gets Me” (which provides similarly possessive lyrics such as, “I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me/Nobody gets me like you/How am I supposed to let you go?”), SZA closes it with one from “Seek & Destroy.” And all while offering Armie Hammer his wet dream on a platter by featuring a scene of herself tied up in a shibari rope harness. Does it mean she’s the masochist now for having killed her ex? Maybe. Or perhaps this is just how she celebrates a satisfying kill.

    Genna Rivieccio

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