ReportWire

Tag: David Fincher music videos

  • There Would Be No “Bad Girl” Video Without Diane Keaton

    [ad_1]

    Of all Madonna’s many videos, perhaps one of the most standout (while still being simultaneously underrated) for its cinematic qualities is 1993’s “Bad Girl.” And yes, of course, its cinematic nature is due, in part, to David Fincher serving as the director—though Madonna did originally ask Tim Burton to do it. Perhaps because this was fresh off Burton directing Batman Returns, which had just the kind of “dark,” “gritty” aura that Madonna was seeking in order to capture a concept based on something as unflinching as 1977’s Looking for Mr. Goodbar (with a key plot device from Wings of Desire thrown in for good measure).

    In many ways designed to be a cautionary tale against the pratfalls of being a “wayward” woman that dares to sleep with whomever she pleases (and as often as she likes), Looking for Mr. Goodbar was also meant to tap into the stigmas that remain, to this day, lobbed at any woman with the audacity to be so “free.” That is to say, sexually free. And to “punish” her for that freeness, Looking for Mr. Goodbar holds up Theresa Dunn (Diane Keaton) as the perfect example of what “can and will” happen to such a salope. At the time, this messaging resonated immensely with Madonna (even more so than usual), who was being torn limb from limb by the media for her “diabolical” trifecta of sexually-charged releases (no ejaculation pun intended): Sex, Erotica and Body of Evidence. All three projects seemed to prove to the masses that Madonna had not only run out of/overused her material, but that she was crossing an unspoken line of “good taste” that was not meant to be crossed.

    A line crossed in much the same way as Theresa in Looking for Mr. Goodbar, with her story based on the real-life murder of Roseann Quinn. A murder that ultimately compelled Judith Rossner to write a book inspired by it. Released in 1975, it became a bestseller that quickly led to its adaptation into a film by Richard Brooks. In the lead-up to the film’s release, Keaton took an “oath of secrecy,” as it were, about the finer points of the film’s content, commenting to The New York Times, “Richard Brooks, the director wants it that way. I still don’t know why he chose me for the part. He saw some footage of me in Harry and Walter Go to New York, which didn’t exactly get good reviews. Anyway, it’s done now.” And when it was done, oh how it shocked audiences. Particularly the pearl-clutchers. Even if many of those types would have liked to interpret the film as a “morality plea.” Not just that, but a warning to all women of what “free love” a.k.a. sexual pleasure will result in. Of course, for the viewers, like Madonna, that really understood the core of the film’s message, it isn’t saying that at all.

    No, instead Looking for Mr. Goodbar aims to remind people that, for women, true equality isn’t really possible. Is perhaps as much of a fantasy as any far-fetched sexual one. This because men, beasts that they are, can’t seem to tolerate a woman being free in any way, least of all sexually. It drives them insane, to the point of murder. And hearing a woman mock or berate him in the same way that a man freely does to a woman? Fucking forget it. For that’s what apparently set off John Wayne Wilson, the real murderer of Roseann Quinn, whose account of the events leading up to her murder state that when he couldn’t get hard, she insulted him. Something that, to use understatement, clearly set him off. In the film version of events, it plays out mostly the same way, with Gary Cooper White (Tom Berenger)—yes, the nod to John Wayne Wilson is apparent—also failing to “deliver” as they start fooling around in Theresa’s apartment. Except that, in the movie, they make it so that Gary’s sexuality is homo-leaning to add to his sense of “needing” to overcompensate for that “masculine lack” by being hyper-toxic. Ergo, his over-the-top reaction to Theresa telling him it’s fine that he can’t perform. This “condescending” (from his skewed perspective) comment is what sends him on a tirade that includes the rebuke, “Goddamn women. All you gotta do is lay there. Guy’s gotta do all the work.”

    Theresa quickly loses patience for his “hot takes” about women and sex, telling him to leave. Instead, his rage continues to escalate and he proceeds to overpower her, leading her back onto the bed, stripping her of her clothes and choking her with her own bra (this aspect appearing in the “Bad Girl” video by way of “Louise Oriole” [Madonna] being strangled by a pair of her own stockings). All of this is what ends up arousing him enough to get an erection—violence, evidently the go-to aphrodisiac for men of all sexual orientations.

    As he proceeds to rape her, he asks, “This is what you wanted, right bitch?” Because that’s what it is, to the toxic male, for a woman to want hard dick. It’s for her to be a bitch or a slut who deserves to be treated roughly and cruelly because she wants sex in the same way that men have always been able to get it. And, more than women being “allowed” to make not only their own money, but also more money than men (rare as it is), the idea of a woman being “allowed” to have sex like a man is even more appalling to the quintessential toxic male.

    For Madonna, in 1993, there could have been no such message more appropriate to interweave into one of her videos. Because no one on Earth at that moment in time was being as maligned for their sexual freeness and candor than Ms. Ciccone. So while Madonna may have never formed a direct relationship with Keaton—apart from the direct relationship of Warren Beatty’s “special appendage” slipping into each of them at separate times (Keaton in the late 70s and early 80s, and Madonna in the early 90s)—the actress’ work clearly informed one of her best videos. And though, sure, Looking for Mr. Goodbar could have existed without Diane Keaton, it’s plain to see the movie wouldn’t have had the same impact on someone like Madonna without the subtlety and nuance she brought to the part. Able to convey the underlying missive—that women and men are never going to be “equals” so long as violence informs everything that men do and every reaction that they have—in a manner that obviously spoke to Madonna. In short, there would be no “Bad Girl” video without Diane Keaton.

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link

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

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

    [ad_1]

    “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.

    [ad_2]

    Genna Rivieccio

    Source link