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Tag: Doja Cat Scarlet

  • Doja Cat Is An 80s Music Video Girl in “Jealous Type”

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    Like Charli XCX with her 2022 video for “Baby,” Doja Cat has been very inspired by the visual cachet of 1980s aesthetics for her new era. One marked by the release of Vie, her fifth studio album. As the French word for “life” (hence, calling her tour the Ma Vie World Tour), it seems Doja wants to showcase plenty of vigor in the first single from the record, “Jealous Type.” A song with the same 80s vibe as its accompanying video, directed by Boni Mata. 

    And while Doja might have stirred controversy by previously writing Hot Pink and Planet Her off as nothing more than “cash grabs,” it seems she actually quite liked the cash, hence a return to this more “accessible” pop sound (not unlike the one that The Weeknd has been banking on for years; so perhaps Doja took a page from his 80s playbook after collaborating with him on the remix of After Hours’ “In Your Eyes”). A sound that was noticeably absent on her “adversarial” fourth album, Scarlet. What’s more, there is no producer out there that creates hit pop songs with 80s-inspired beats quite like Jack Antonoff (just ask Taylor Swift), who co-produced the song with Y2K.

    As such, from the moment Doja presses the power button on her very 80s-era electronic equipment at the start of the video, the sound is one of pure “Decade of Excess” ebullience. To boot, Doja has the confidence to commence the song with the chorus (rather than easing listeners into it), “Boy, let me know if this is careless, I/Could be torn between two roads that I just can’t decide/Which one is leading me to hell or paradise?/Baby, I can’t hurt you, sure, but I’m the jealous type/I’m the jealous type.” This, in truth, being a refreshing admission in a climate where everyone seems to be so la-di-da (and/or polyamorous) in relationships. In fact, probably not since 2013 has someone been so frank about their jealousy (hear: “Jealous” by Beyoncé). Such an “antiquated,” “unevolved” trait as it is in matters of l’amour these days.

    But since Doja Cat is technically a millennial (try as some might to bill her as a “Gen Z pop star”), perhaps she can’t help but be of a time and mindset when it was still acceptable to admit to being, well, the jealous type. Thus, the unapologetic verse, “I said, ‘You wanna do what now with who?’/I don’t need a pin drop or a text tonight/I ain’t even coming out with you/You don’t wanna show me off to your ex or your friends tonight/Nigga, you must be on molly/‘Cause y’all ain’t kick it when we started up/And if she really was a friend like you said she was/I would’ve been locked in, but I called your bluff, ha/No girl enjoys trying to tough it out for a party boy/Everyone wants you and you love all the noise/You want what you can have, but I made a choice/I’m not your type (boy, let me know).” 

    During the first portion of the video, a blonde wig-wearing Doja watches herself dressed in a leopard getup in the video projected on her wall, almost as if she’s aroused by her own image (which also isn’t out of the question in an era as narcissistic as this one, regardless of this visual being “set in the 80s” or not). Maybe that’s why she starts to strike some tantric-meets-Madonna-esque yoga poses in front of it before Mata cuts to another scene in Doja’s very Patrick Bateman-styled abode (again, just like Charli’s in the “Baby” video, except Doja’s is clearly in Los Angeles—hence, all the space).

    In this segment, she’s outfitted in red lingerie while dancing in her hallway. It doesn’t take long for another scene to start cutting into this one, with Doja now dressed in a form-fitting metallic pink dress as she dances in front of an elevator (yes, it’s quite the versatile house). All of the scenarios the viewer has seen thus far then start to sort of collide into one another, with Mata then inserting yet another new setting for Doja to be featured in: the exterior of the house (which looks like it was made in the style of a miniature from Beetlejuice). The only thing that looks more 80s than the interior. 

    Standing out front is Doja next to a limo. And in that limo is, who else, Doja. But not the same Doja, the leopard-outfitted one from the screen (side note: the other Doja ogling her outside is wearing leopard-print lingerie). Living the “glamorous life,” as Sheila E. (and now, Addison Rae) would call it. Sipping champagne in the back, perhaps too unbothered with all her wealth to worry about such petty emotions as jealousy. 

    Another swift cut then sees the various worlds of the video bleeding into each other as the red lingerie-bedecked Doja starts dancing inside the elevator where the pink metallic dress-outfitted Doja was dancing in front of. It’s in the elevator that a miraculously appearing fire sprinkler starts raining down on Doja as she’s doing her seductive dance moves. In a moment, of course, that’s not unlike what happens to Jennifer Beals as Alex Owens in Flashdance, pulling the chain above her onstage chair to make it rain…water down onto her already scantily-clad body. This being the iconic opening scene of the movie. Indeed, Flashdance was simultaneously criticized and heralded in its time for being among the first movie of its kind to emulate the “MTV style” of showcasing “non sequitur” scenes that “read” like standalone music videos rather than scenes from a movie. The same can be said of the style wielded here, which is, of course, very meta considering it is a music video in and of itself. 

    As the song comes to a close, Doja repeats the lines, “Oh, I’m jealous, baby, yeah, I’m jealous/Oh, I’m jealous, baby, I’m the jealous type.” A sentiment not unlike the 2020 Bebe Rexha single that Doja herself is featured on, “Baby, I’m Jealous” (from the much underrated Better Mistakes). And as the mélange of Doja’s various postmodern selves continue to intermingle, courtesy of what would been called “slick MTV editing” back in the 80s, she finally presses the “off” button on her “ancient” entertainment system, leaving the audience wondering if she finally got so turned on by herself that she decided to go out in that limo and pick up some sex workers, Patrick Bateman-style. 

    And, speaking of dangerous types like Bateman, since Mariah is actively looking for the “Dangerous Type,” she might very well find it in the likes of a “Jealous Type” like Doja. 

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Dolls Kill and Billie Eilish Aesthetics Permeate the Apocalyptic L.A. of Doja Cat’s “Agora Hills”

    Dolls Kill and Billie Eilish Aesthetics Permeate the Apocalyptic L.A. of Doja Cat’s “Agora Hills”

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    As Doja Cat persists in her determination to prove she is “art rap” personified, she’s enlisted the help of Hannah Lux Davis (known for creating sumptuous videos for such pop stars as Ariana Grande and Charli XCX, as well as previously working with Doja on “Say So”) for her latest visual, “Agora Hills.” A video that feels almost like a companion piece to “Demons,” which Doja Cat co-directed with Christian Breslauer. Building on the same “backrooms” aesthetic from that video, Davis opens on grainy VHS footage of an empty row of showers as the camera then drops to the floor and we see a woman (probably “Scarlet”) in red heels approach the drain. The red heels being emblematic of Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz. For, after all, even though it’s spelled wrong (one wants to believe “intentionally”), the single is named in honor of Agoura Hills, the Los Angeles suburb where Amala Dlamini grew up before she was Doja Cat. Perhaps spelling it without the “u” is some kind of high school dropout flex, who knows? Anyway, it seems apparent that she wants to get the point across that “there’s no place like home.” No matter how fucked-up and apocalyptic it looks when you go back to it. 

    The harbinger of that post-disaster state is foretold by the blood soon washing down the drain of the aforementioned shower—further proof that it’s “Scarlet,” as we’ve only ever seen her covered in blood during her various cameos throughout other Doja Cat videos (including “Attention” and “Paint the Town Red”) of this era. Lux then cuts to a suburban neighborhood gone literally topsy-turvy, with Doja suspended in mid-air in the distance before descending upon the ruined L.A. earth. All in all, it has the same feel as Billie Eilish’s “all the good girls go to hell” video. But that’s not the only Billie video it appears noticeably “inspired by,” for Doja also wields the backdrop of the “dead mall” the way Eilish does in “therefore i am,” taking advantage of the Glendale Galleria’s emptiness in late 2020, during the notorious pandemic.

    But before Doja gets to the mall (a staple of “Valley culture”), she lands on the asphalt with the toes of her ballet shoes setting off sparks against the concrete, a bevy of zombie-like women behind her who, just as Doja, also look like they’ve been styled in Dolls Kill attire. And yes, although originally started in San Francisco, Dolls Kills has become something of an honorary L.A. fixture, complete with its brick-and-mortar outpost on Fairfax. And so, with these two overt L.A. icons—Dolls Kill and Billie Eilish—already so overtly at play within the video’s visual universe, Doja isn’t being quite as original or subversive as she would like to believe she is. Though, perhaps it’s only fair to “steal” the Dolls Kill vibe considering how well-known the company is for stealing from other, lesser-known designers. 

    Sampling from Troop’s 1989 hit, “All I Do Is Think of You” (itself a cover of Jackson 5’s version), Doja then proceeds to get positively mushy on this single. And, while many want to comment about how “sweet” the song is, it seems everyone has conveniently forgotten that it’s likely about her racist, sexually predatory boo, J Cyrus. So while maybe it would be sweet, it doesn’t come off that way when the listener pictures J as she sings, “Whether they like or not/I wanna show you off/I wanna show you off/I wanna brag about it/I wanna tie the knot/I wanna show you off.” The video, still in occasional “VHS style” mode, then takes us inside a seemingly abandoned house (for this entire cul-de-sac neighborhood is an eerie wasteland) where “another” Doja, this one with black hair and disgusting/haunting long acrylic toenails, is talking on the phone in a decidedly “80s teen girl” bedroom to her boyfriend in a peak “Valley girl” accent, delivering such cliches as, “No, you hang up, you hang up.”

    The scene then morphs into a new tableau with a “new” Doja. This time, the bald-headed one we’ve grown more accustomed to seeing of late. And, what a surprise, she and some of her doppelgängers (including an alter ego who’s dressed like “Kandi,” the Dolls Kill persona for their raver lines) are in another fluorescently-lit backroom. This more basement/dungeon-like than the ones prior. An interspersed scene of Bald Doja wearing a cast boot on one foot while atop a knockoff Hollywood sign that instead reads “AGORA HILLS” adds to the overall randomness. But what “logic” can be had in the post-apocalypse? And perhaps, on some level, Doja Cat realizes that one’s personal life, as a celebrity, can only be truly accepted when nobody else (apart from her arbitrarily-materializing fellow Dolls Kill models) exists on Earth to judge and condemn it. 

    As the video draws to a close, Doja takes full advantage of the dead mall setting that was initially alluded to in the shower scene that commenced “Agora Hills” in the first place. Showing up with all her fellow “Dolls,” the Eilish homage feels complete now. And, for those convinced that Doja couldn’t possibly be influenced by Billie, let it be noted that she even name checks the “other” Angeleno in “Ouchies” by saying, “A hunnid billies, I’m the G.O.A.T, no Eilish.” While it might sound like a “dig” to those who want to constantly stir the pot by creating celebrity beef where there isn’t, Doja Cat and Eilish (as fellow L.A.-born celebrities) are friendly enough, with the former attending Eilish’s twenty-first birthday last year. And perhaps the only thing that’s missing from this grab bag of a video is a cameo by Eilish herself. But, pointedly, it’s a no white girls allowed scenario. For surely, the delicate whites (no laundry pun intended) could not survive any apocalypse (despite what The Last of Us would have people believe). Unless, they’re the rich kind who pre-bought all that bunker space in New Zealand to ride out the end times.

    But for the non-rich whites, survival seems less secure. Least of all in L.A. or its outer reaches. But anyway, after Doja and her surviving sisters scurry out of the mall, Davis caps (not to be confused with what Doja means when she says, “You just cap so hard, it’s—I don’t know what to do”) the video with a scene of Doja riding her bike on a deserted street at night with a shirt that reads: “Queen of Blow Job.” Alas, there aren’t many men around to test whether or not that’s true. Except the one Doja’s hiding somewhere in a backroom until more people miraculously reveal themselves so that she can make better use of the phrase “I wanna show you off.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Doja Cat’s “Paint the Town Red” Video Recalls Die Antwoord-Inspired Visuals, Continues to Challenge the Notion of “Cancellation”

    Doja Cat’s “Paint the Town Red” Video Recalls Die Antwoord-Inspired Visuals, Continues to Challenge the Notion of “Cancellation”

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    While Doja Cat continues to miraculously prove that some people can remain “beyond cancelability,” her video for “Paint the Town Red” itself merely reminds one of the things Die Antwoord has already done. And yes, those things often included faux avant-garde posturing…all in the name of, naturally, “shock value.” Something Yolandi Visser and Ninja have courted many times over the years in their always memorable music videos (whatever one might think of the actual music). With “Paint the Town Red,” Doja appears to want to achieve the same shock and awe through her demonic visuals (which, yes, are intensified in her video for “Demons,” featuring satanic beings similar in aesthetic to the ones in “Paint the Town Red”). Of the very same ilk that have appeared in Die Antwoord’s videos for such songs as “Ugly Boy” and “I Fink U Freeky.” Usually embodied by a black-eyed Yolandi. 

    Perhaps with Doja’s own South African roots via her father (who is from Durban), Die Antwoord crept into her consciousness at some point or another. And yes, like that duo, Doja Cat has played with some extremely racist tropes in her work. Except that, unlike that duo, she has the armor of biraciality on her side to “get away with” more. How else could one explain her continued ability to skirt the controversy of such acts as tweeting (back when it was Twitter), “Thinking about being black can make any sensible person depressed. Like just think about it wouldn’t being white make soo much more sense. Life would have value.” It begs the question that the New York Times asked, “Is Doja Cat Uncancelable?” And this was in 2022, when she still had yet to go out of her way to alienate fans by essentially calling them freaks and losers (which we all know is how most celebrities actually feel about their fan base, it’s just no one ever dared to say it out loud like that before). 

    Some want to believe it’s part of her so-called alter ego, Scarlet, for the upcoming album of the same name. Either way, it doesn’t seem to matter…that is, if the success of “Paint the Town Red” in the wake of her anti-fan rant is any indication. Besides, Dionne Warwick didn’t seem to mind either, perhaps too far gone at this point to care if her 1964 hit, “Walk On By,” is being repurposed by someone so controversial and, well, frequently anti-Black (as indicated not just by the tweet above, but so many other things she’s done and said in the past, one of which really did almost get her canceled). But when you’ve got Dionne on your side, what does it matter?

    The continued “brushing aside” of Doja’s behavior, which lately feels on par with the kind of over-the-top controversy-seeking that finally did get Ye canceled, has only appeared to embolden her all the more. And, as someone who has spent ample amounts of time gabbing with and indulging racists on platforms like TinyChat (in the name of “trolling,” supposedly), perhaps some of the rhetoric has slightly infected her. As Damon Young put it in a 2020 article for The Root (just after the “Dindu Nuffin” fiasco), “She seems to be an edgelord [and, presently, an admitted “demon lord” in “Demons”]—which is a (usually white and male) person who says trollish and taboo shit online to appear cool to other trolls. They build community by shitting on other communities, and Black people are their most frequent target. Basically, edgelording is Spades for incels.” If this is the logic that has prompted Doja to up the ante on her deliberately offending (primarily to the conservative and religious set) aesthetics, then it might explain some of “Paint the Town Red.” Though, by and large, Doja is part of a generation of pop culture that doesn’t really “try” at something like “meaning” (though it’s great at the “art” of the arbitrary ripoff from something that came before). This being perhaps a more macabre reflection of how most people have come to realize that nothing means anything. Except, of course, the meaning that society has indoctrinated us all with: fame and money are all that matters. 

    Although Doja often proffers the notion that she doesn’t care about fame or success (especially lately) and is just “here for the music,” “Paint the Town Red” admits freely to her enjoyment of the trappings that come with fame. Even if it’s notoriety. Elsewhere playing with the idea that all fame is secured through a Faustian pact, the devil imagery she relishes as much as Die Antwoord also reflects lyrics like, “She the devil, she a bad lil’ bitch/She a rebel/She put her foot to the pedal/It’ll take a whole lot for me to settle.” At least, now that she’s secured her “cash grabs” through Hot Pink and Planet Her. Albums that played up a conventionally “femme” side of Doja that she’s now seeking to destroy all memory of, calling Scarlet a record that takes “a more masculine direction.” Fittingly enough, in the previously alluded to article from The Root, Young added, “…for Black people who grew up in predominantly white spaces… whiteness—particularly the cool and edgy white boys—is fetishized, and to assimilate, some flatten themselves into the Black kid who isn’t offended by slurs and can be just as edgy as they are.” It seems as though Doja has reached that masculine state, by her own estimation, via not just the kinds of scandals she provokes but even the kinds of men she gravitates toward. 

    Causing more outrage than Taylor Swift did by “consorting with” Matty Healy, Doja’s dalliance with Jeffrey “J” Cyrus, known for being a conservative (read: white supremacist) “pundit” on Twitch and having numerous sexual harassment accusations against him, is something like her pièce de résistance for “performing whiteness.” A “pièce” that certain fans might like to call “performance art” in and of itself. Again, wishful thinking as a means to justify Doja’s behavior for the sake of being able to listen to her music in peace. And yet, a great many people have become so desensitized to the notion of “cancellation” that they do, in fact, still enjoy their favorite musicians (or actors, what have you) in peace. Tuning out the deafening noise of those would would decry such people as, let’s say, “unholy.” Although Doja lost a large number of followers after telling her fans to “get a job” (the implication being, obviously, that to have time to dissect a celebrity’s business is to have no life…even though having a job actually means having no life), it hasn’t slowed down her chart success by any means. Whether on the radio or through streaming.

    In the days of yore, maybe some detractors would have hollered “payola” about that. As for now, maybe her constant airplay can be attributed to Doja simply having the gift for creating earworms (a term one can imagine she might take literally based on some of the grotesque scenes she favors showcasing in “Paint the Town Red”). Even if the lyrics of said earworms don’t necessarily track. For example, “Fame ain’t somethin’ I need no more” directly counteracts Doja’s chant of “I’d rather be famous instead” (of worshiped by fans, one can only assume; since, evidently, Doja has found a way to be famous without being beloved…a feat usually only accomplished by dictators). But who can be bothered with things “tracking” in an epoch like this, right?

    What “sense” is there to be had in this modern existence, wherein even a celebrity feels inclined to cavort with Death (as Doja does in the video to, among other things, refer to the death of her previous “persona”/Planet Her era)? What with life lately feeling so fleeting (even more than it did in 2012 a.k.a. the end of the world/a period of greater Die Antwoord dominance), who can blame a girl for being “immune” to the fear of cancellation? A gamble that’s paid off quite well for Doja as she paints the town (devil) red. Until, perhaps, one day it doesn’t and she joins Ye in another kind of underworld.

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    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

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    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.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • When Everyone Wants to Believe A Celebrity Is Andy Kaufman’ing It

    When Everyone Wants to Believe A Celebrity Is Andy Kaufman’ing It

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    Ye, Taylor Swift (because Matty Healy), Lizzo, Doja Cat. When it comes to “wanting to believe” a celebrity is merely “putting you on,” the past year has provided no short supply of examples. Nor have the defensive reactions from fans insisting that everyone else deriding their “god” doesn’t know what they’re talking about, or that said “god” is simply “doing an act.” No one better embodies that latter category than Doja Cat. For, as her fans (or what’s left of them) have loved to suggest as a means to cushion the blow of her recent behavior, this entire “thing” she’s doing right now is just part of her “Scarlet persona”—or something. “Scarlet” being the name of the “character” she seems to be portraying. Or rather, an “alter ego,” if you prefer. Either way, fans are latching onto the idea that “she is now playing the role of Scarlet. They are two different characters. In an interview she said she apologized for what would happen later…she also said that she loved us before she got into the role of Scarlet. She doesn’t hate us, but Scarlet does since she’s evil. Doja doesn’t despise us, hate messages are from Scarlet!!!”

    It’s a “grasping at straws” type of reasoning, but one that makes sense considering the post-reality era we’ve been living in since Andy Kaufman’s brand arrived onto the scene. Particularly a 1982 hoax involving pro wrestler Jerry Lawler. Specifically, the time that they battled it out on an episode of The David Letterman Show. With Kaufman already in a neck brace after Lawler supposedly performed the piledriver maneuver on him, Lawler slapped Kaufman during the interview, leading them into another altercation. One that was, as revealed over a decade later, entirely staged. This was the type of “comedy” (or rather, performance art) that not only made Kaufman stand out, but also made him a legend. Mainly for being so committed to his “act” that the truth about it would take years to be unearthed. This also being why many people still speculate that he’ll emerge one day and say his death, too, was a hoax. This “approach” to celebrity would start to catch on not just with other famous people in the twentieth century (see also: Jim Carrey [who, fittingly, portrays Andy Kaufman in Man on the Moon] at the 1999 MTV Movie Awards), but even non-famous people as well.

    In other words, those members of the hoi polloi who got the message that “the hoax” was what got people’s attention. And with “reality TV”/daytime talk shows as an increasingly viable medium with which the average joe could secure his fifteen minutes of fame, the opportunities for creating false fanfare were ample. Case in point, a 1998 episode of The Jerry Springer Show (rebranded as part of “Springer Break” for MTV’s illustrious week of spring break programming), during which two roommates named Dave and Matt went on the show with Dave’s girlfriend, Caitlin. When Matt “confesses” he’s been fooling around with Caitlin, Dave goes completely apeshit on him to a level that clearly gets Springer both salivating and scared when the camera flashes to his reaction. In the end, it turned out the trio had bamboozled the talk show host, admitting the drama was completely manufactured. That yes, Dave and Caitlin were boyfriend and girlfriend, but that the affair with Matt was made up for the sake of quality 90s daytime TV. And so, taking into account how “the art of the hoax” and what it could do for germinal forms of virality had already trickled down into the culture of “normals” (a.k.a. non-famous people), its value became apparent to many. Especially as the twenty-first century progressed. 

    That same “hoax-like” quality was also manifest in the comedic stylings of Sacha Baron Cohen, who brought his Borat character from Da Ali G Show to life in an even bigger way in 2006’s Borat (a.k.a. Borat! Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan). Interacting with “dyed in the wool” Americans who genuinely believe he’s some “ghastly” foreigner with no knowledge of American life or customs, the gimmick Cohen had in mind—to expose prejudice and racism entrenched in the very fabric of American culture—worked like a charm. Between a Southern frat boy warning Borat to “not let a woman ever ever make you who you are” to a Republican at a Virginia rodeo telling Borat he should shave his mustache to look more like an I-talian instead of a Muslim to a crowd of people at that same rodeo laughing at Borat’s thick accent before he delves into an offensive version the national anthem (“I now will sing our Kazakh national anthem to the tune of your national anthem”), the levels of misogyny, homophobia and xenophobia present in the U.S. are exposed at every turn. And all through the carefully-constructed ruse of a character like Borat. 

    Less careful constructions aren’t always met with being hailed as “brilliant.” For example, in 2008, Joaquin Phoenix ostensibly had a “breakdown” (which was in rather poor taste considering Britney’s real one the same year) after announcing his plans to retire from acting so he could pursue a rap career. The result was a 2010 “documentary” directed by Casey Affleck. Quickly revealed to be a mockumentary, I’m Still Here (not to be confused with Todd Haynes’ impressionistic Bob Dylan biopic, I’m Not There, released three years before) was met with lukewarm reviews, with many critics seeming to feel that it failed as “good performance art.” Plus, it also happened to furnish the film set that would later put Casey Affleck in the spotlight for his sexually harassing tendencies, as well as promoting a work environment that encouraged sexual harassment (à la Lizzo). So really, what “artistic value” did it have apart from being an experimental vanity project?

    The same can be said of whatever Doja Cat is “doing” right now. If, in fact, it’s contrived at all, and not just a desperate bid on fans’ part to validate her behavior (which also says something about the dangers of post-reality existence). This includes going off on their patheticness for saying they “love” her and trying to call themselves shit like “Kittenz” in honor of the way other fan bases have names (e.g., Ariana Grande’s Arianators, Taylor Swift’s Swifties, Charli XCX’s Angels, Kesha’s Animals, Lady Gaga’s Little Monsters, Nicki Minaj’s The Barbz, Beyoncé’s Beyhive, etc.). Doja made it apparent that not only does she think the people focusing their energy on this are total losers, but also that she doesn’t feel she “needs” them at all. At least not anymore. Not now that she has enough money to pursue whatever she wants creatively. Alas, she might quickly come to find that her overhead costs are no longer matching up with what she’s making if a legion of fans aren’t there to support her where it counts: financially. 

    Whether or not this is a “stunt,” some believe Doja Cat is truly immune to public opinion (à la Ye) at this point and that, “No matter how you feel about Doja Cat, it is clear that she is living her life unapologetically right now. While some fans may be freaked out by it, she seems to be happy, which is all that matters.” No one appeared to have that stance about Ye, possibly because it’s as Dave Chappelle said and the one thing you can’t do in Hollywood is speak ill of the Jewish community. Not only “speak ill,” but also go on multiple venomous tirades regarding Jewish stereotypes and conspiracies. Starting with Ye tweeting in late 2022, “I’m a bit sleepy tonight but when I wake up I’m going death con 3 On JEWISH PEOPLE.” Apart from misspelling DEFCON, the most glaring aspect of the tweet was Ye’s plea for attention, no matter how negative. An escalating need for it that only amplified as he doubled down on his offensive rhetoric, complete with praising Hitler and dining with Donald Trump and a white nationalist Holocaust denier at Mar-a-Lago. All of this occurred at the end of 2022. As 2023 began, Ye became fodder for awards show hosts (i.e., Jerrod Carmichael) and South Park in between gradually fading into the background. Perhaps he’ll try to reemerge at some point and holler, “Gotcha!” It was all an act. Just like Andy Kaufman. Just like, as fans insist, Doja Cat. 

    It’s the safest bet for coming back from bad behavior, after all. “Haha, just kidding! It was part of my ‘art.’” But, unlike Kaufman and Cohen (who Ye would be likely to point out are both Jewish so it must be some kind of conspiracy), the “performance art” being done now isn’t ironic, nor does it serve as a means to highlight a larger, unpleasant truth about humanity. Instead, the so-called performance art itself has become the larger, unpleasant truth about humanity. Even when people want to praise ultimately annoying actors and musicians, they’ll still dredge up Kaufman (because the devil can cite pop culture scripture for his purpose). For instance, Jennifer Lopez compared Jennifer Coolidge to Kaufman after working with her on Shotgun Wedding, in that you can never really tell if “that’s who she is” or she’s simply always “in character.” To put it another way, if she’s just making money off her natural persona in a similar way that Angus Cloud did with his Fez character (though it always irritated him when people wrote off his talent that way). 

    To further debunk the idea that Doja Cat is just “trolling” everyone (therefore, her behavior is “fine”), musicians who have had alter egos in the past have known better than to “trust the audience” with being able to separate the singer from the alter ego without making it explicit. From David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust to Beyoncé with Sasha Fierce to Madonna with Madame X, these were “characters” that had entire albums constructed around them. Whatever Doja’s forthcoming album turns out to be called, it doesn’t seem like the title is going to be Scarlet. Which might be the only way for her to backpedal on what she’s said and done at this point. And isn’t that what every celeb wants to do once they notice that their “artistic integrity” is affecting their bank account’s bottom line?

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    Genna Rivieccio

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