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There’s no doubt that Medieval Times is still a major institution in the Midwest, with one of its precious few locations being in Chicago (more specifically, Schaumburg, Illinois). And, of course, being a “Midwest princess,” one would like to think that Chappell Roan was vaguely aware of her Medieval Times aura as she took the stage at the MTV Video Music Awards for the first time (on the now always inauspicious date of September 11th). That’s right, like many other celebrities (despite Roan’s continued claim that she’s just “a random bitch”), she schlepped all the way to Long Island for this big debut at the UBS Arena—even going so far as to cancel other scheduled performance dates in Amsterdam and Paris in early September (perhaps not wanting to “overextend” herself while rehearsing for the VMAs) for the sake of making “icon history.”
And that she did, confirming her increasing comparisons to Kate Bush (mainly on the vocal intonation front, but also embodying the “queer energy” Bush gave off despite being a straight woman…not to mention her ultra-camp sensibilities) as Roan opted to dress as a knight in shining armor for her live rendition of “Good Luck, Babe!” (a standalone single that was released months after The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess). As a matter of fact, there’s an immortal image of Bush dressed as a knight during a photoshoot for a 1980 edition of Melody Maker. But “maybe” Roan didn’t know about that before running with this particular concept and visual.
In any case, to set the tone for this poignant costume during her performance, Roan arrived on the red carpet in what can best be described as a “Maid Marian getup” (courtesy of a sheer dress by Y/Project) and coordinating cape. Roan, for good measure, additionally packed a sword (how innuendo-laden) in hand as a prop to round out an aesthetic intended to convey that just because she’s a woman, it doesn’t mean she’s a “delicate flower.” Indeed, wielding that sword was in keeping with her snapping back at a press member (that reportedly told her to “shut the fuck up”), “You shut the fuck up! …Not me.”
Later “explaining” her outburst, Roan remarked, “[The red carpet] is quite overwhelming and quite scary. I think for someone who gets a lot of anxiety around people yelling at you, the carpet is horrifying. And I need to—I yelled back. I yelled back! You don’t get to yell at me like that.” Such “bravado” was an ideal match for her knightly image as she defended her own honor—a theme that goes hand in hand with her entire “brand.” That is to say, women don’t need rescuing—they can ultimately save themselves (as Carrie Bradshaw, of all people, once tried to explain to Charlotte York in a season three episode of Sex and the City called “Where There’s Smoke…”). They just need a night on the town (ideally at a drag bar) to recover from almost any slight. Emphasis on the word almost.
Alas, Roan is finding it more and more difficult to enjoy such therapeutic nights out on the town as her fame level eclipses her ability to do “normal person things.” Thus, dressing up as a knight also seems to speak to Roan wanting to take back her power by “valoring up.” However, that’s not the only subtext one can take away from the costuming and misleadingly “intricate” set design (modeled after, what else, a medieval castle). There’s also the undeniable message being sent that, despite Kamala Harris running for president, the U.S. (in particular) is still living in some very Dark Ages—complete with the overturning of Roe v. Wade in 2022 that has led to numerous states outright banning abortion. And while Roan claims her costumes aren’t that “deep” and that, most of the time, she thinks she just “looks hot” in them, the decision to don medieval garb doesn’t exactly feel like a coincidence in the current climate. Especially one in which Donald Trump (despite everything about his inherent nature and varied illegal activities that have been revealed to the public since 2016) still has almost half of the country’s vote as of September 2024.
As for Roan’s Medieval Times energy, it bears noting that, in 2017 (the year of #MeToo, incidentally), the franchise changed the show (as they’re known for doing about every six years) to include a queen at the center of the event rather than a king. With Roan’s medieval interpretation, however, the “lady” herself becomes the “man.” Or at least one butch-ass bitch. Bedecked in her armor and faux chainmail, the performance begins with Roan standing behind the gates of the castle wielding a crossbow with a fiery arrow. She soon struts outside of the gate (opened for her by a bevy of “lackey knights”), approaches the center of the stage, turns around and then aims it directly back toward the gates, which, in turn, light up into a fiery pattern on select bars. The lackey knights then dance and preen around her with swords in hand as Roan boasts about how she “told you so.”
As the fire burns in a glorious blaze behind her (including over-the-top explosions on the spires of the castle itself—courtesy of a screen, [un]naturally), the chaoticness of everything around her echoes the ways in which Roan is seeking to “burn it all to the ground.” From conventional pop stardom to the ongoing political “safeness” of most everything in pop culture—even in spite of all the insistence about how much “things have changed.” Of course, whether she “intended” to say all of this isn’t the point. It’s right there, between the lines displayed by those spiky, oppressive gates.
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Genna Rivieccio
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