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  • An Album for the Patrick Bateman Bros: Doja Cat Is An 80s Lady on Vie

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    After releasing the deliberately polarizing Scarlet in 2023 (followed by a reissue called Scarlet 2 Claude in 2024), Doja Cat seems to have done yet another swing back in the opposite direction. One that is aimed more toward the very genre she claimed she was running as far and fast away from as she could back in 2023, when she tweeted, “Planet Her and Hot Pink were cash-grabs and y’all fell for it.” Further describing the content on those records as “mediocre pop.” At the time, a great many fans were upset by the comment, while others insisted it was all somehow part of her Scarlet persona. And maybe it was, considering Doja would, as of this year, describe that album as a “massive fart” that just needed to be released. A way to express her anger and rage over a few things, including not being “taken seriously” as an artist. So it was that she explained in an interview with The New York Times, “Not to diminish it, but it was a bit of like, I just need to get this out—it was a massive fart for me. I thought fixing that would entail making music that was more visceral or more emotional or maybe more angry or more sad. And I enjoyed performing it onstage, but it didn’t get me all the way there. So I want to return back to what I know.”

    And return she has. Not just to the pure pop that Hot Pink and Planet Her embodied, but also even farther back than that, all the way to the 80s (though Doja herself was born in 1995). Because, sure, it’s been “a while” since someone wielded that shtick, with the most recent notable example being Dua Lipa’s 2020 album, Future Nostalgia, drenched in the same 80s-centric stylings on Vie, which marks Doja Cat’s fifth record in seven years (with 2018’s Amala being her debut). But Doja takes it more than just a few steps further than Lipa in terms of centering the album’s entire universe in the 80s. Because it’s not just a sound, it’s a world, with Doja committed to staying in character while inhabiting that world. This, of course, extends to her visual accompaniments—whether it’s the music videos she’s released thus far (see: “Jealous Type” and “Gorgeous”)—or the album variants that feature her on the cover in various 80s getups (particularly the Quality Time vinyl edition). All of this proving the accuracy of what she told Michelle Miller of CBS Sunday Morning: “I’m always wanting to, like, create a character, like, create some sort of narrative and theme and world. World-building.”

    To establish that world immediately on Vie, Doja begins with “Cards,” which, for about the first fifteen seconds, sounds like it could be something from a Blood Orange album (it’s the saxophone). But then, with its production from Y2K, Gavin Bennett and Jack Antonoff (who worked on nine of the fifteen tracks, and who makes music that usually sounds 80s-esque anyway), the song bursts forth in some very Janet Jackson circa Control type of glory. This as Doja opens with the chorus, “A little more back and forth/A little more catch and throw, baby/The more we can clear this smoke/A little further I’ll go/Maybe in time, we’ll know/Maybe I’ll fall in love, baby/Maybe we’ll win some hearts/Gotta just play your cards.” The up-tempo pace of the track instantly establishes the exuberant tone that Doja is going for, in addition to ruminating on her love of romance—intermixed with sex, of course. This intoxicating combination evident in the lines, “If you play fair, stranger/It’s all you could eat while I lay there, stranger” (that word, stranger, also being the title of track six on Vie). At the same time, Doja exhibits the shyness of a girl looking for true love when she says, “I’m enough to wait for/Move too quick and you off the roster.”

    As the saxophone plays us out of “Cards,” Doja’s warning fittingly transitions into “Jealous Type.” For it’s apparent that once she (or her “character”) does open her heart to someone, she’s not liable to let them “muck about” with others so readily. Once again starting the song with the chorus (which will be a common occurrence on Vie), Doja soon asks the question, “Could be torn between two roads that I just can’t decide/Which one is leading me to hell or paradise?” This meaning that Doja can’t quite decide between remaining “dulcet” or going full AK-47 in terms of expressing her feelings of jealousy. Something she does manage to convey regardless in the second verse, rapping, “And if she really was a friend like you said she was/I would’ve been locked in, but I called your bluff/No girl enjoys trying to tough it out for a party boy/Everyone wants you and you love all the noise.” In a sense, it’s almost like she’s channeling Evelyn Richards in American Psycho (whose name is changed to Evelyn Williams [played by Reese Witherspoon] in the film version), who has some similar sentiments toward Patrick Bateman.

    And yes, needless to say, this is probably exactly the type of album that, had it actually been released in the 1980s, Bateman would have been sure to pontificate about in one of the chapters. Granted, Bateman couldn’t cover every piece of 80s pop culture, including Knight Rider, which is not one of the things he finds worthy of mentioning at any point in American Psycho. Doja Cat, however, seems to figure that, since Vie is an “80s album,” the Knight Rider theme is a natural fit for “AAAHH MEN!,” even though Busta Rhymes already locked down that sample in 1997 with “Turn It Up (Remix)/Fire It Up.” What’s more, it seems that Antonoff enjoys working on tracks wherein female singers make a play on words using “men” and “amen” (hear also: “Manchild”).

    Of course, Doja has more of a legitimate reason to wield the Knight Rider theme than Busta in that she raps, “And if had more common sense/Then I would grab my ride and dip.” She also adds to that sentiment, “And I have too much tolerance/You ugly and fine as shit.” That latter dichotomous line referring to how a man can be aesthetically foyn, but still repulsive “on the inside,” thanks to his “personality” (or lack thereof). Even so, Doja seems always willing to take a chance on romance. Even with the knowledge that romance so often gives way to reality, ergo a loss of the rose-colored glasses that can then lead to so much tension and fighting. Thus, a need for “Couples Therapy,” which happens to be track four on Vie.

    It’s this sweeping, lush song that particularly conjures Doja telling Jimmy Fallon, “I’m very inspired by Janet. I’m very inspired by Michael and Prince.” And yet, there’s even brief auditory glimpses of Aaliyah (specifically, “Rock the Boat”) as Doja narrates the problems of some other couple, rather than speaking about herself or her own relationship. This bringing to mind the distinction of her writing process that she made to Miller on CBS Sunday Morning, noting, “When I’m writing, I’m writing about situations in general. I’m not really, um, always pulling from my personal life” and “I love to talk about love. I love to talk about, um, you know, relationships and dynamics and things like that.” Carrie Bradshaw would tend to agree.

    Interestingly, “Couples Therapy” starts out with Doja talking about a relationship from the third person perspective before switching to the first: “She just wants him to be involved/He just wants her to finally notice/They just need one more push to cope/Can we both detangle our souls?/This argument’s been in the oven/We can’t always be in control.” This, in fact, channels Madonna’s 1989 “divorce track” from Like A Prayer, “Till Death Do Us Part,” on which she sings with the same perspective shift, “Our luck is running out of time/You’re not in love with me anymore/I wish that it would change but it won’t/‘Cause you don’t love me no more/He takes a drink, she goes inside/He starts to scream, the vases fly/He wishes that she wouldn’t cry/He’s not in love with her anymore.” Yes, maybe Madonna and Sean just needed couples therapy—though it wasn’t as “chic” in the 80s to seek that kind of help. Just ask The Roses.

    But, at least after becoming newly divorced and/or single again, a person can feel like their former “Gorgeous” self. This being the second single from Vie after “Jealous Type.” And yes, with this particular track, Doja is sure to cover a different kind of romance: the kind that somebody has with themselves a.k.a. self-love. So it is that Doja remarked of “Gorgeous”: “[It’s] not about being in a relationship with someone else, it’s about how you relate to yourself and how you feel about yourself. And that was something that I really wanted to kind of convey in this song.” Which she definitely does (“I mean I only got myself to appeal to [I do]),” along with the feeling that this should be playing during one of Gia Carangi’s photoshoots (the lyric, “She wanna be chic when it’s inspired by heroin” being especially resonant). Or during one of Bateman’s murder sprees. Either way, it’s among the most 80s songs of Vie, which really means something (this along with the fact that Charli XCX’s newly-minted husband, George Daniel, is one of the co-writers and co-producers). In fact, it’s almost like Doja took a page out of The Weeknd’s playbook for this entire record, for he’s been dipping into that 80s sound well for a while, especially since 2020’s After Hours.

    And it would track that Doja could have been inspired as much by The Weeknd as any pop artist from “back in the day,” for she’s no “Stranger” to collaborating with him, having done so on a remix of his 2020 song “In Your Eyes” and in 2021 for “You Right” from Planet Her. Who knows, maybe she even has him partially in mind when she opens “Stranger” with, “We could be strange/At least we’re not the same.” Later, she’ll add, “And I believe the weirdest ones survive.” This echoes one of Madonna’s recent aphorisms on Jay Shetty’s On Purpose podcast, during which she declared, “Not fitting in is what saves you.” Granted, Doja speaks on some pretty normie couple behavior when she says, “Call me over to watch some White Lotus.” This perhaps serving to remind listeners that she did make a song with one of season three’s cast members, LISA—namely, “Born Again,” which also features RAYE. Not to mention her fairly basique nod to Kill Bill for the “Stranger” video. But, in any case, it’s a sweet song, and one that relishes the joys of finding one’s fellow “weirdo” in life.

    With that in mind, Doja seems only too pleased to make her fellow weirdo “All Mine” on the following track, which features a prominent nod to Grace Jones, both in sound, tone and, well, the opening sample of dialogue. Dialogue that comes from Conan the Destroyer, with Princess Jehnna (Olivia d’Abo) asking Zula (Jones), “How do you attract a man? What I mean is, suppose you set your heart on somebody. What would you do to get him?” to which Zula instantly replies, with the same “savagery” as a man, “Grab him, and take him.” Or what a certain Orange Creature, especially during his 80s heyday, would rephrase as “grab ‘em by the dick.” That Conan the Destroyer was released in 1984 only intensifies Doja’s commitment to the “world building” of Vie, which exists solely in the 80s (complete with her public appearances in promotion of the album, during which she’s dressed in attire befitting said era). Save, of course, for the lyrical content itself.

    In the spirit of Zula’s advisement, Doja croons in tune with the mid-tempo track, “I ain’t waiting around, yeah/I’ll be taking him out, yeah/‘Cause I’m only about him/Wanting what we want/Claiming what we claim/Make you say my name/And I’m all yours/It can’t bе my fault/This street goes both ways/Let a giver takе/You’re all mine, boy.” In this sense, Doja channels a time when women were only really just coming into their own as independent people capable not only of being seen as a man’s “equal” (which really isn’t hard to do considering how subpar most men are), but being able to “claim” in the same way—or so one would have liked to believe—without incurring as much judgment as they would have in the past. And in the 80s, it was not so “past” at all, considering the fact that most women couldn’t even open their own bank accounts in the U.S. until the passage of the Equal Credit Opportunity Act of 1974. Considering that Doja is very much the type of woman who needs to have her own bag, the 80s are probably about as far back in time as she would be willing to go (not to mention the fact that a Black woman further back than the 80s didn’t have much in the way of rights either).

    To be sure, it wouldn’t have been half as easy for a woman to simply command, “Take Me Dancing,” as both Doja and SZA do on the song of the same name. Teaming up yet again after the stratospheric success of “Kiss Me More” (which even broke Brandy and Monica’s “The Boy Is Mine” record for the “longest-running all-female Top 10 hit on the Billboard Hot 100”), SZA commences the track with the repetition of the demand, “Baby, take me dancing tonight.”

    Once she makes her desires known, Doja then comes in with the chorus, “You’re so raw, boy, and you’re so romantic/When you fuck me right and then you take me dancing/It gets lonely out here in this big old mansion/In these hills cooped up, boy, can you take me dancing?” Clearly speaking from the perspective of someone who lives in L.A. (with Doja herself being a native), it’s almost as if Doja is intending to channel Norma Desmond if she were living in the 80s instead of the 50s.

    While not as lyrically varied as “Kiss Me More,” “Take Me Dancing” is just as “boppable,” and surely worthy of a music video that finds Doja and SZA hitting the clubs of Los Angeles through an 80s lens (which must surely be less derivative than the very Britney concept they “came up with” for the “Kiss Me More” video). Maybe even one with a Maxxxine-inspired slant.

    On “Lipstain,” Doja actually says she doesn’t wanna dance. Well, that is, metaphorically speaking, beginning the song with the declaration, “I don’t wanna dance around it/Talkin’ ‘bout our love is easy.” So easy that it even makes her “speak in tongues”—a.k.a. French (e.g., “Tu es ma vie et mon tout/Et tout le monde le sait” and “Laisse-moi embrasser ton cou”). And why shouldn’t she? Considering that Vie is named in honor of the French word for “life,” of which Doja remarked to CBS Sunday Morning, “That means life and I feel like you can’t have life without love.” “Vie” not only means “life” in French, as in, “tu es ma vie,” but it also derives from the Roman numeral V, and Doja wanting to reference this being her fifth record. One that shows a side of her that perhaps wasn’t as noticeable before. The romantic side (after all, that doesn’t come across in such previous lyrics as, “If she ain’t got a butt/Nah, fuck it, get into it, yuh”). Which is why Doja was prompted to explain of the consistent theme, “This album is very much about love in a way that reflects how I want it to be in the future—my hope, my hopefulness. What I hope it could be. Because I remember there was a time when people were talking about wanting to be with each other, and it seems to have gotten a bit more vapid and just sort of like, not real… Not loving, not romantic.”

    But it is “romantic,” in its retro way, to want to “mark your man” (as Peggy Olson would call it) with a bit of lipstick on his collar…and elsewhere. Or, as Doja calls it, a “lipstain.” This said when she sings, “Kiss you on the neck on purpose/So they know my favorite lipstain.” The “they” being other women that might try to “holla.” A fear that prompts Doja to note, “We gotta mark our territory for them dogs, girl.” That’s certainly how Britney felt on “Perfume” when she used the eponymous beauty product to talk about marking her own territory via the lyrics, “And while I wait, I put on my perfume/Yeah, I want it all over you/I’m gonna mark my territory.” For Doja, though, lipstick will suffice.

    And, talking of Britney, Doja very much gives off 00s-era Britney energy on the lyrics for “Silly! Fun!” (a song that matches the playful exclamations in its title) when she sings (while oozing pure exuberance), “Wouldn’t it be fun if we went to a party?/Wouldn’t it be fun to fall deep for somebody?/I know it could be a blast to just pop out a baby/And we’re so very silly getting married in Vegas.” Spears did all of those things and then some in the 00s, but Doja wants to “make it 80s” with her musical spin on such a narrative (one that she calls her homage to lovebombing). And yes, “Silly! Fun!” definitely offers the kind of jubilance-inducement one would expect of such a title, practically begging its listeners to snort cocaine to this soundtrack. It also echoes the theme of “Stranger,” reiterating the idea that Doja has found someone to match her freak, so to speak (and to quote a Tinashe song rather than a Doja one)—and that she’s all the better/happier for it. As made further apparent when she gushes, “You’re my person, this my first time, I’m in love/Those men were practice in my past.”

    On “Acts of Service,” this talk of finding “my person” continues immediately, with Doja asking the question, “Would it mean that I found my person/When the language is acts of service?” The “language” she’s referring to obviously being “love language,” of which there are five categories: acts of service, words of affirmation, quality time, gifts and physical touch (all five have Vie vinyl variants named in their honor). And so, if Doja can find that “special someone” who speaks her language, in addition to embodying some of the other ones, then, “Please, this is an achievement.”

    The slow tempo and “boudoir-ready” sound, co-produced by Fallen, Stavros and Kurtis McKenzie, is yet another example of the Janet Jackson inspiration on the album. Though, of course, the rapped portions of the song are all strictly Doja, especially when she says, “Yeah, said I/I just deleted Raya/That must mean that I’m your provider/That just mean I’ma be your rider.” Something about this verse feeling like a nod to the Joseph Quinn drama that happened earlier this year, with some outlets reporting that Quinn was “caught” on the dating app for “posh” people (a.k.a. celebrities [or even just “influencers”]) while still “with” Doja (much like David Harbour when he was married to Lily Allen). Either way, it’s a pointed remark. Perhaps the kind that would later prompt Doja to “Make It Up” to her love with an apology. This song having the kind of sound that makes one think of Prince taking a bubble bath (or maybe even think of Vivian Ward [Julia Roberts] taking a bubble bath while listening to Prince).

    To that point, Doja asks her lover in the second verse, “Can I run your shower?/Can I fill the tub?” So it is that Doja obviously wants to keep the acts of service love language going. And, in a certain sense, “Make It Up” also has shades (no pun intended) of Ariana Grande’s “make up,” a song from thank u, next about, what else, make up sex as Grande urges, “And I love it when we make up/Go ‘head, ruin my makeup” (so yeah, it’s sort of like 50 Cent rhyming “nympho” with “nympho”). In a similar fashion, complete with using the repetition of the same word, Doja sings, “If we make love/Would I make it up to you?” In other words, would it make this person, er, come around “One More Time.”

    While Daft Punk might already have a signature song called this, Doja throws her own hat into the “One More Time” ring. Even though she, too, mostly just repeats that phrase for the chorus. Even so, the song explores the struggle of being vulnerable, especially as it pertains to allowing oneself to fall in love. Awash in the sound of “80s electric guitar,” Doja remarks, “It’s never easy/We’re willingly uncomfortable/I want you to teach me/We’re both feeling unlovable/We gotta learn to unlearn it/It’s gotta hurt if we’re burning/When we get closer, I curse it/Breaking the cycle, I know I deserve it.” In other words, she deserves to be “Happy.”

    The Marvin Gaye-esque opening of said song, the penultimate track on Vie, inevitably leads to Doja speaking more rudimentary French (as she did on “Lipstain”), incorporating the repetition of the command, “Brise/Mon coeur/Encore/Ce soir” (meaning, “Break/My heart/Again/Tonight”), in between asking, “Are you happy?/Who would get mad at you/Doing what you wanna do?” A query that sounds, in its way, like MARINA asking, “Are you satisfied/With an average life?” (on a side note: MARINA also has a song called “Happy” on Froot). But the answer to that question is, patently, Doja, who expresses being plenty mad when she says, “TLC, I saw, I creeped/She’s in our bed, I bought the sheets.” This pop culture reference not being 80s at all, but peak 90s. Alas, Doja can’t keep it entirely “of the time” she’s emulating, putting her own contemporary spin on the lyrics while borrowing mostly from the sound of the Decade of Excess. Which she, like many others, wants to “Come Back.”

    For this grand finale, Doja selected Antonoff as the sole producer of the song (the only other one on Vie that he produced on his own being “AAAHH Men!”). And for this big responsibility, Antonoff seemed to riff off Doja’s tone of voice to fully exude an all-out Wilson Phillips sound. To be sure, “Come Back” has a very inspirational sound in the spirit of said band (particularly their best-known hit, “Hold On”). But just because it sounds that way doesn’t mean Doja is saying things intended in that spirit. For when she sings the chorus, “Changin’ the way that you act to me/Can’t switch the tone while I’m ‘bout to leave/I worked it down till the atrophy/You missed the mark and her majesty/Beggin’ me, ‘Baby, come back to me,’” it’s evident that Doja has reached her threshold on giving love—or at least this particular love—a chance.

    In this regard, “Come Back” is like Doja’s version of “Goodbye”—the Sabrina Carpenter track that concludes Man’s Best Friend (and yes, Antonoff co-wrote and co-produced that song, too). For, like Carpenter, Doja is sending a big kiss-off message to the person who thought that she would always be around/come running at the drop of hat. In both songs, each woman emphasizes that this man’s sudden desire to “come back” to the relationship and (potentially) “be better” is a classic case of too little, too late. Which is exactly why Doja pronounces, “It turned you on when I told you off/I’m pleased I ain’t the bitch you was hopin’ for/If we keep this up, and you hold my doors/And you take my bag, and you hold me more/I don’t think that would make up for the hope I lost.”

    Much like the collective hope that was lost during the Decade of Excess itself, with Ronald Reagan ramping up the concept of neoliberalism (with his counterpart, Margaret Thatcher, also doing the same “across the pond”) through Reaganomics. A so-called philosophy/set of policies that served only to further dash the dreams and livelihood of the average American. Turning the U.S. into an even greater cultural wasteland that wouldn’t deign to fund the arts in general, let alone music education. Even so, compared to now, there’s no denying the 80s had a lot more luster. A far greater sense of hope and aspiration.

    To boot, in the spirit of songs from “that time,” Doja even dares to challenge her usual audience by making tracks that last well over three minutes in most cases. Which is a tall ask of a generation that’s grown accustomed to mostly only having the focus for a song that’s about two minutes, if that. So perhaps her goal really is to fully transport listeners back to that time, and remind them that while time travel might not be possible (as was “promised” in Back to the Future), the “DeLorean” that people will have to settle for in 2025 is Vie.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • A Revamped American Psycho: The Musical Heads for Houston

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    A massively redone American Psycho: The Musical is on its way to Houston, with plans to remount it in London next year and hopes of eventually getting it back on a Broadway stage. Houston audiences will have more influence than usual on what the revised version turns out to be.

    Why?  Because the first three nights the show is performed at the Hobby Center will be previews complete with next day script adjustments. According to Robert Lenzi who plays the lead role, the script won’t be “frozen” until opening night on September 5.

    Despite an impressive lineup of buff stars in Psycho’s first trip to Broadway in 2016, the original musical closed after 27 previews and 54 performances leading to all sorts of debates about why that happened. Was it the audience, the gory book it was based upon, the mixed reviews it received? There were some fans, but not enough.

    Tony Award®-winner Duncan Sheik (Spring Awakening) and Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa (Glee, Riverdale, Pretty Little Liars) believe there is still something worthwhile to be salvaged in their new adaptation of the best seller by Bret Easton Ellis. Both of them have come up with a new script and revised score. But they want to do some more fine tuning before they head back to London, hence the stopover at Houston Broadway Theatre. Joe Calarco is directing.

    Lenzi plays Patrick Bateman, the ’80s era Wall Street exec who has it all, but turns into a creature much more violent, darker and without a conscience at night. He says he welcomes the fast pace of the changes coming his way.

    “I love it. I’m an actor based in New York and I’ve done a lot ,one of my true passions is doing developmental work. When you do developmental work you really are kind of fast on your feet and trying this. You read something on Monday and you show up Tuesday morning and there’s new pages.

    “They are fresh out of the printer and it’s the most exciting thing to be handed fresh pages. If you’re lucky as we are with this show, written by truly brilliant writers and reading them out loud for the first time.”

    The musical was originally produced in London in 2013 and brought it to Broadway in 2016. “Now our writers,  Roberto and Duncan, are revisiting the piece and taking everything they learned from the London and the Broadway production and also spending more time with the piece and obviously the world has continued to change,” Lenzi says.

    “The preview process is an incredibly important part of when you’re doing new work,” Lenzi says. “Right now we’re at a studio, it’s just us. Eventually you’ll  perform the play at night and then the next day we’ll get new pages. We’ll rehearse all day, take a dinner break, breathe and then perform the new things that night and see how it goes. And continue that process until the show becomes ‘frozen.’ That is the version we’ll do every night after opening.”

    Actually, Lenzi’s history with the show includes the fact that his wife — his girlfriend at the time — was in the original Broadway cast. He saw the final dress rehearsal for that show and “was totally blown away by what the story had a say and by that character.”

    Asked to describe his character, Lenzi says: “He is troubled by the lack of authenticity in the world around him, this idea of  materialism and hyper consumerism that he participates in. It drives him to want to take up the world and show them the horrors that are around them. He does that by committing acts of horror himself. It leads him down this rabbit hole of dark, existential despair.”

    As for portraying a character so diabolical, Lenzi says he doesn’t have to like him, but he does need to understand what leads Bateman to act the way he does — to map out the logic of what he does.

    The musical isn’t just blood and guts, however, he say: “There are many satirical elements. It’s  also incredibly witty and and funny and absurdist comedy elements to it. There are dark elements, but there are also things about the absurdity of life that are truly hysterical

    But Psycho is definitely not for children, Lenz says.

    “At the heart of the play. It’s a great work of existentialism as in what is the point of all this. In the world today, we’re existing on our phones, we’re presenting ourselves through social media. And when you sort of stop and think it’s like what is the point of all of this? What is the point of human existence?

    The show in a very absurd and dark way kind of tackles this major idea of what it is to be a human being,” Lenzi says. “It’s this one man trying to make sense of all this in a really heighted way.”

    Performances are scheduled for September 2-14 (with opening night on September 5) at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday and Sunday, 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday and 2 p.m. Sunday at the Hobby Center, 800 Bagby. For more information, call 713-315-7625 or visit thehobbycenter.org or broadwayatthehobbycenter.com. $33.80-$148.20.

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    Margaret Downing

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  • 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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  • Trump Brings Back the Worst of the 80s

    Trump Brings Back the Worst of the 80s

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    Although some could argue that Ronald Reagan’s oppressive regime in the 1980s is part of what fueled better pop culture than the schlock of the moment, one thing that could never be improved was Donald Trump. A man who did become part of the pop cultural lexicon of that era despite being a New York-confined Patrick Bateman type. For whatever reason (apart from The Art of the Deal), he managed to infiltrate the mainstream consciousness—more than likely because, in those days, it was the height of “aspirational” to be rich. Not that it still isn’t, it’s just more “cloaked” behind “earnest,” “let’s save the planet” messaging.

    Trump, obviously, never gave a fuck about that. And still doesn’t. Nor did he ever care about reading, though he did feign being very taken with the “excellent” Tom Wolfe during both men’s heyday. “Excellent” was the word he used to describe the quintessential 80s author in a 1987 interview with Pat Buchanan and Tom Braden when asked what books he was reading. But, of course, 1) he wasn’t actually reading any and 2) Trump couldn’t resist the urge to ultimately say, “I’m reading my own book because I think it’s so fantastic, Tom.” That book was the blatantly ghostwritten The Art of the Deal, released, incidentally, in the month that followed The Bonfire of the Vanities landing on bookshelves everywhere. Indeed, that was the main reason Trump was on the show.

    Oddly, Trump’s book (an oxymoron, to be sure) was the thing that made him become a household name in America, as opposed to just being limited to the niche jurisdiction of New York City and certain parts of New Jersey. As for his abovementioned interview, some have speculated that Bret Easton Ellis used this bizarre moment for Bateman/American Psycho inspiration. For it does smack of Bateman saying whatever the fuck comes to his mind just to see if anyone’s actually paying attention (e.g., saying he’s into “murders and executions mostly” instead of “mergers and acquisitions”). A moment where, in one instant Trump is declaring he’s well-versed in all literature Wolfe but hasn’t yet read The Bonfire of the Vanities, and, in the next, claiming to be reading Wolfe’s “last book.” Which would have been, what else, The Bonfire of the Vanities. He certainly wasn’t talking about From Bauhaus to Our House. And yet, even when caught in a lie, Trump always counted on touting generalities with confidence as a means to deflect from his total lack of knowledgeability.

    So it is that he keeps repeating such generalities as, “He’s a great author, he’s done a beautiful job” and “The man has done a very, very good job.” Finally, realizing that there might be some people out there not falling for his bullshit, he relies on the excuse, “I really can’t hear with this earphone by the way.” (Or, as Mariah would put it, “I can’t read suddenly.”) Trump, in this and so many other ways, has brought back the “art” of the flagrant lie-con that was popularized by some of the 80s’ most notorious swindlers, like David Bloom and Jim Bakker. Everyone wanting to adhere to the “fake it till you make it” philosophy so beloved by the U.S., and which it was essentially founded upon. A “philosophy” that Trump has taken “to heart” his entire life. Except for the fact that, as Tony Schwartz, the true writer of The Art of the Deal, eventually said, Trump doesn’t actually have a heart. More specifically, “Trump is not only willing to lie, but he doesn’t get bothered by it, doesn’t feel guilty about it, isn’t preoccupied by it. There’s an emptiness inside Trump. There’s an absence of a soul. There’s an absence of a heart.”

    And it can be argued that this absence began to extend to the collective of America in a more noticeable way than ever during the Decade of Excess. Uncoincidentally, it was the decade when neoliberalism came back into fashion in a manner as never seen before, courtesy of the “laissez-faire” policies of Reagan and, in the UK, Margaret Thatcher. With such an emphasis on “me first” and “getting ahead at any cost,” it was no wonder that a man like Trump, emblematic of the Wall Street monstrosity that would come to be embodied by Gordon Gekko, was so “revered.” His “lifestyle” coveted. Of course, it was harder then to debunk myths, like the idea that anything about Trump was “self-made.”

    In the backdrop (or foreground, depending on who you ask) of Trump and Reagan representing the worst of the 80s, there were, needless to say, so many amazing things about that decade: the birth of MTV, and with it, a new generation of visual artists (including the 1958 Trinity, Madonna Prince and Michael Jackson), Square Pegs, Golden Girls, Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, They Live, E.T., Dirty Dancing, Flashdance, Footloose (a whole rash of dancing movies, really), any John Hughes movie, the eradication of smallpox, the aerobics craze and Jane Fonda’s Workout, Pac-Man (and the rise of video games in general, culminating in the release of Game Boy in 1989), the early days of the internet and personal computers, the first female vice presidential candidate (Geraldine Ferraro), the fall of the Berlin Wall… So many great, memorable things that should outshine the ickier moments today—like the rampant homophobia in response to AIDS, the Challenger explosion, Irangate, the Chernobyl disaster, New Coke, the rise of the yuppie, the death of vinyl (though it would have the last laugh) and George H.W. Bush managing to win the 1988 election so as to take more “Reaganomics” policies into the 90s.

    And now, Trump wants to bring all the worst of the decade back. The homophobia, the religious overtones (complete with satanic panic), rampant misogyny, the worship of money, the rollback of environmental regulations and, maybe most affronting of all, Hulk Hogan. The latter, like Trump, experienced his own heyday in the 80s, when interest in pro wrestling and the WWE reached an all-time crescendo. And, also like Trump, Hogan has a reputation for, let’s say, embellishing (read: fabricating) his lore. Because he found his success by being an over-the-top wrestler, Hogan never seemed inclined to shed his performative persona. As a result, many will remain forever haunted by Hogan at the RNC a.k.a. Trump rally ripping his shirt off to reveal a Trump/Vance tank top as he screamed, “Let Trumpamania [unclear why he wouldn’t just say ‘Trump Mania,’ but anyway] run wild brother! Let Trumpamania rule again!”

    As many pointed out, it was like seeing the plot of Idiocracy fully realized. A trajectory that can now be rightfully pinned on the “ideals” of the 80s. For while it was the best of times, it was also the worst of times—and those are coming back with a vengeance if Trump manages to win the presidency yet again. On the plus side though, it seems that CDs are making a comeback to align with this potential return to the Decade of Greed.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Patrick Bateman-ness of a Pitbull String Arrangement Playing During A Sex Scene in a Carriage

    The Patrick Bateman-ness of a Pitbull String Arrangement Playing During A Sex Scene in a Carriage

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    By now, most everyone (who’s interested) has gotten through the first four episodes of Bridgerton’s third season (with the latter half to be released in mid-June). Which is exactly why, among the most talked about moments, a particular carriage ride in the final minutes of episode four, “Old Friends,” has set tongues wagging (no sexual innuendo intended). But perhaps more distracting than the “steamy,” tailored-to-the-Regency-era sex scene is the noticeable string arrangement (courtesy of Archer Marsh) of Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything.” 

    For those who were hardly expecting that particular “needle drop,” showrunner Jess Brownell explained, “I listened to a lot of slower romantic songs, but none of them felt like they had the right impact and the right build and the right crescendo. And that Pitbull song has so many builds within it that it just, I think, kind of nails the dynamic that’s happening in the scene.” Spoken like someone with true Patrick Bateman musical sensibilities. For, in addition to Ed Sheeran, there’s no doubt in one’s mind that the modern version of Bateman would tout the musical brilliance of Pitbull. Particularly as a finance bro prone to club outings (probably continuing to frequent underground/illegal ones during the lockdowns of the pandemic). 

    One might argue that 80s Bateman could also easily get on board with string quartet versions of his favorite hits from that era, especially Genesis’ “Follow You Follow Me” (the book version of Bateman was much more interested in talking about Genesis and Phil Collins than Huey Lewis and the News). If presented as a bro of the 2010s, Bateman would have an effortless discourse to provide about the lyrical and musical merits of Pitbull, particularly his breakthrough album, Planet Pit (his sixth, released in 2011). Although it spawned a number of hits (as Bateman would be sure to inform you), “Give Me Everything” was the obvious standout, not to mention his first ever single to chart at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 (where, granted, it only had the stamina to remain for one week before being knocked off by LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem”). 

    Thus, Colin Bridgerton (Luke Newton), channels some major Bateman energy (not just because he’s rich and white) as Pitbull provides the soundtrack to his finger-banging session with Pen (Nicola Coughlan)—because viewers know damn well that wouldn’t have been her pick for a semi-consummation of their romance. In truth, one sees Penelope as more of a Billie Eilish type, but the string arrangement of “Happier Than Ever” was already played in episode three, “Forces of Nature,” when she’s on the dance floor with Lord Debling (Sam Phillips). That is, after taking his hand when he asks for it instead of listening to what Colin might be about burst forth with. For his pent-up sexual ardor for her has been bubbling to the surface ever since she asked him for a “pity kiss” during the conclusion of episode two, “How Bright the Moon.” And it is at the beginning of the following episode, “Forces of Nature,” that we see the same scene play out in a more “fantasy-like” way, with the intended assumption meant to be that Penelope is the one having a wet dream about it. But no, as viewers soon find out, it’s Colin that can’t stop having certain “nocturnal thoughts” (and perhaps emissions) about the kiss. Even though, theoretically, he wasn’t the one who wanted it. Turns out, all he needed was that tactile nudge to realize his long-dormant feelings. 

    The type of feelings that, per season three’s music supervisor, Justin Kamps, can only truly be captured by pop music. As Kamps himself said, “Pop music can have so much drama and romance. What the show does is heighten these kind[s] of everyday feelings of romance that people have throughout their lives. And it’s fun to hear a song that you’ve had a connection with in your own life transposed into this string quartet version that is playing with and affecting the characters’ lives throughout the show. I just think that’s a really fun juxtaposition for people and combination of bringing their own emotions into the story each season.” In other words, some viewers need just a touch more modernity to be able to relate to this era, not to mention the well-to-do characters who have the increasingly nonexistent luxury of obsessing over love. Or rather, false ideals of it. As Penelope’s mother, Lady Featherington (Polly Walker), tells her, “Oh do not tell me you’re holding out for love. Ugh! This is the very reason why I discouraged you from reading! Love is make-believe. It’s only in your storybooks. Do you know what is romantic? Security!”

    Unless, of course, a girl makes the mistake of being courted by Bateman (like Evelyn Richards), who has plenty of “security” to offer in bank account form, but not so much when it comes to physical safety. However, if a girl happens to be a sucker for a guy who gives pseudointellectual discourses about pop music, then Bateman is certainly irresistible. Just as Colin is to many of the women of “the ton” when he returns from his travels suddenly looking more comfortable in his own skin (in short, like more of a fuckboy). And who knows? Maybe part of the reason he does is because he went on an anonymous killing spree while abroad. However, one thing audiences can be sure of is that Colin picked up a few sexual tricks on his travels (repeatedly emphasized by his visits to the brothel—another Bateman-y maneuver—and the threesomes he has while there). Knowledge he seems all too keen to share with Penelope in the back of that carriage. A scene that, when one examines it, possesses all the incongruity of Patrick Bateman boning two sex workers to the tune of Phil Collins’ “Sussudio” while filming it (and also finding plenty of time to stare at himself in the mirror [and flex his arm muscle], just as Gaston from Beauty and the Beast would). 

    The decision to play “Give Me Everything,” however, was not taken lightly, with the composer of season three’s score, Kris Bowers commenting, “The melody, the way that it was shaped was trying to mirror the push and pull of their relationship, the timidity of whether or not they actually want to move forward with this on either side as they both play with this idea of what it would be like to possibly explore a romantic connection. So the melody has that type of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ kind of feeling to it.” In which case, one tends to wonder why Olivia Rodrigo’s “1 step forward, 3 steps back” wasn’t simply used instead. Not “melodically aligned” with the vision, one supposes. Even if it perhaps wasn’t the best idea to align that vision with someone as, well, rapey as Pitbull. Or at least that’s how he comes across in many of his lyrics. Which, again, would undeniably speak to his appeal to Bateman. Among such lyrics being, “The night is young, and if you shave/I’ll give you some of this mighty tongue” (from one of his first big hits, 2004’s “Culo”),” “I like that when you fight back” (from 2007’s “The Anthem”) and “She say she won’t, but I bet she will (from “Timber” featuring, of all people, Kesha). 

    Fortunately for Bridgerton “romantics,” no such “untoward” sentiments are present in “Give Me Everything.” Unless one rightfully counts the line, “Think about it, ’cause if you slip/I’m gon’ fall on top of your girl, hahahaha.” Or reads the subtext of what might happen should the “sexy” someone “grabbed” not necessarily want to give everything tonight. Nonetheless, the supposed reflection of Colin and Penelope’s relationship, in addition to the fraught, urgent opportunity presented to them in the carriage, is meant to be “tailor-made” for “Give Me Everything.” After all, Penelope essentially expresses the sentiments of the chorus in Julia Quinn’s Romancing Mr. Bridgerton when it is written: “Tomorrow would be awful, knowing that he would find some other woman with whom to laugh and joke and even marry. But today… Today was hers.” Or tonight, in this scenario. And oh, how they both give almost everything. It’s a wonder Colin doesn’t just outright deliver the lyrics as part of his love soliloquy to her, insisting, “Tonight. I want all of you tonight. Give me everything tonight. For all we know, we might not get tomorrow. Let’s do it tonight.” Cries of the world’s imminent demise is, indeed, perfect for “virtue-shattering.”

    As for Pitbull’s reaction to the unexpected, Bateman-esque song choice, well, he responded with something Bret Easton Ellis himself could have penned from the perspective of Bateman: “This again shows the world how music is the international language that transcends over boundaries[,] more so how a hit song can remain timeless.” And with that, “Give Me Everything” was, thanks to Bridgerton, declared timeless. Though definitely not as timeless as, say, “Hip to Be Square.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Maybe Listening to Depeche Mode Instead of The Smiths Would Make You A Better Hitman: The Killer

    Maybe Listening to Depeche Mode Instead of The Smiths Would Make You A Better Hitman: The Killer

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    After a project as sentimental (in large part due to being written by Jack Fincher) as David Fincher’s last one, Mank, one might believe that, on the surface, The Killer is an “edgier,” more “hard-boiled” movie. But the truth is, the eponymous killer in question (Michael Fassbender) is just a big teddy bear. Hence, his repeated playing of The Smiths while on the job or otherwise. Of course, listening to The Smiths might not necessarily be a dead giveaway (no pun intended) of a person’s empathy. In fact, based on Morrissey’s more recent “brand” (characterized by a generally white supremacist, “Britain First,” anti-immigrant stance), one could argue that listening to The Smiths is very much the mark of someone willing to kill. And yet, for those who can still only focus on the lyrics sung by Morrissey, rather than the words said by him in a public forum, it’s hard to forget that he was once a spokesperson for the downtrodden and marginalized. Those who were relegated to the fringes of society for their “strangeness.” But naturally, that sort of messaging was bound to evolve into becoming a “security blanket” for serial killers and incels. 

    The Killer, surprisingly, doesn’t fall into the latter category, as we quickly find out after he botches a hit in Paris. But not before he gives the rundown on what it truly “is” to be hitman. Delivering his internal monologues like a clinical “how-to,” the first “chapter” of the movie finds The Killer at his most Patrick Bateman/Tyler Durden-y. Not least of which is because of his calm, stoic tone as he says things like, “If you are unable to endure boredom, this work is not for you.” Indeed, The Killer seems determined to debunk the myth of “hitmanning” as something “glamorous” more for himself than anyone else. And yet, it’s obvious that he can’t deny the glamor it has afforded him. The “culturedness” he feels he possesses as a result of being ping-ponged back and forth between far-flung travel destinations. To places like Paris, where most people will only ever dream of visiting. As a matter of fact, The Killer is sure to wax poetic about said town when he remarks, “Paris awakens unlike any other city. Slowly. Without the diesel grind of Berlin or Damascus. Or the incessant hum of Tokyo.” Such overt love for the unique ways in which Paris sets itself apart (that word is also key to understanding how The Killer sees himself) likely stems from the screenplay, written by Andrew Kevin Walker, being based on French writer Alexis “Matz” Nolent’s graphic novel (illustrated by Luc Jacamon) of the same name. In truth, part of what lends the film such a, let’s say, “Guy Ritchie flair” (no offense to Fincher) is its basis on such source material (side note: Ritchie has a graphic novel series called The Gamekeeper). 

    Despite Paris’ uniqueness, it certainly does attract quite an army of basic bitches (ahem, Emily Cooper—and, quelle surprise, the same block where Emily’s apartment is located in Emily in Paris is also used as the filming location for where The Killer’s mark lives). Which actually makes it the perfect place to hide amongst the “normals.” Not that The Killer sees himself as anything particularly special. As he puts it, “I’m not exceptional. I’m just…apart.” The Killer additionally informs us that there is no such thing as luck, destiny or “justice.” Life is a random smattering of occurrences before which we all eventually die. Such nihilism is befitting of an avid The Smiths listener, but, in reality, more so a Depeche Mode listener. And The Killer might actually have turned out to be more adept at his job had he opted for the latter band as part of his “Work Playlist.” Alas, he favors the electric guitar melancholy of The Smiths to the electronic melancholy of Depeche Mode. 

    To be sure, listening to Depeche Mode as one’s “killing soundtrack” would be more in line with (unknowingly) quoting occultist Aleister Crowley by saying, “In the meantime, ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.’” All of this callous, calculated posturing, we quickly find out, is nothing more than the internal “Jesus Prayer” he repeats to himself on a loop in order to keep doing the job…to keep assuring himself that he wants to do it. And yes, there’s even an official mantra for that “Jesus Prayer”—one he repeats before every kill: “Stick to your plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise. Trust no one. Never yield an advantage. Fight only the battle you’re paid to fight. Forbid empathy. Empathy is weakness. Weakness is vulnerability. Each and every step of the way, ask yourself: what’s in it for me? This is what it takes. What you must commit yourself to. If you want to succeed.” And then, of course, he biffs the shot—missing his intended old rich white man mark so that it instead hits the dominatrix “entertaining” him. This gross error, needless to say, goes against everything The Killer has tried to get both himself and the viewer to believe about who he is up until now. Not to mention the fact that those lines about forbidding empathy because it’s a weakness are in direct contrast to 1) listening to The Smiths ad nauseam and 2) the majority of lyrics written by The Smiths. 

    Yet perhaps what keeps The Killer on the hook with this highly dangerous profession is the obvious masochistic adrenaline rush he gets from it. To that end, it’s apparent that for as blasé and “put upon” as he is by his work, he still “loves” it. Or at least, the aspects of it that require more “creativity” on his part. “Staged accidents, gradual poisonings,” that sort of thing. But more than having “enthusiasm” (of a Daria Morgendorffer nature) for the art of being a hitman, he seems to relish most of all the idea that doing this work is what sets him apart from what he calls “the many.” The plebes, the hoi polloi. Those foolish (or, perhaps more accurately, “nice”) enough to let themselves be exploited. So it is that he warns, “From the beginning, the few have always exploited the many. This is the cornerstone of civilization. The blood in the mortar that binds all bricks. Whatever it takes, make sure you’re one of the few, not one of the many.” In choosing to be a hitman, that’s essentially what The Killer is trying to make sure of for himself. Paired with a steadily applied aura of “I don’t care” and “Nothing means anything,” this is The Killer’s bid to spare himself from any pain…or guilt. At one point, just before taking the botched shot, he even insists, “If I’m effective, it’s because of one simple fact: I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.”

    But oh, how he gives a fuck. A big fuck. That’s what the audience is about to witness as the true genre of the The Killer becomes unveiled after “Chapter One”: revenge. A movie trope as tried-and-true as PB&J, The Killer quickly becomes reminiscent of Kill Bill: Vol. 1 as our hitman sets out to seek and destroy the parties responsible for brutalizing his beloved live-in girlfriend, Magdala (Sophie Charlotte). Indeed, the sudden revelation of her existence is, again, counterintuitive to everything he’s tried to tell us about himself. The discovery of her vicious assault (told by a trail of blood throughout their house as Portishead’s “Glory Box” plays loudly) is an unwanted “plot twist” he learns of almost immediately upon returning to Santo Domingo. But then, it was already The Killer who warned us, “Of those who like to put their faith in mankind’s inherent goodness, I have to ask: based on what, exactly?” And based on the state of Magdala, it can be said that there is only inherent evil in this world. Even if some would argue “karma,” “you reap what you sow,” etc. of what happened to The Killer’s girlfriend. Still, it’s not as though Magdala ever hurt anyone (as far as we know). Why should she be the one to suffer the consequences of The Killer’s error?

    Luckily, one supposes, she has a man willing to go on an odyssey to avenge her bodily violation (by the same token, she’s unlucky enough to be in love with a hitman that would create the sort of circumstances in which such a horrible thing could happen to her). An odyssey that takes him through New Orleans, St. Petersburg (Florida, not Russia), Beacon (where Tilda Swinton is given her moment to shine as The Expert) and, finally, Chicago. Right back to the very source of how this whole vicious circle began: the client. A billionaire named Claybourne (Arliss Howard) who swears to The Killer that he has no problem with him. That any “trail scrubbing” that was done had been a result of Hodges’ (Charles Parnell)—The Killer’s “handler”—advisement. Being “green” to the game of taking out a hit, Claybourne readily agreed to such a recommendation…never anticipating that the “blowback” he hoped to avoid would instead come in the form of the hitman himself. 

    Seemingly “satisfied” with the billionaire’s answer, The Killer leaves him unscathed in his deluxe apartment in the sky (funnily enough, the name George Jefferson happens to be one of The Killer’s many aliases). Which might be the most telling of all regarding his weakness, his propensity for being just like one of the “many” so willing to be exploited by the few. 

    From the drab, gray cinematography of the Chicago section, Fincher cuts back to the bright vibrancy of Santo Domingo, where a healed Magdala awaits The Killer poolside in their backyard. Perhaps sensing our preparedness to call him a sellout after all that railing against empathy and vulnerability, The Killer reasons, “Maybe you’re just like me. One of the many” (still a narcissistic way to phrase it; you know, instead of saying, “Maybe I’m just like you”). At this, his eye twitches, as though it pains him to admit it. But admit it he does. And then comes the rolling of the credits to the tune of “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out.” Ironic, considering The Killer’s full-time job was to, let’s say, “dim lights.” 

    But the song lyric from The Smiths that remains most apropos (and which serves as the very first one The Killer plays in the film) is from “Well I Wonder”: “Gasping, dying/But somehow still alive/This is the final stand of all I am.” When applied to The Killer, it’s evident that the final stand of all he is remains merely, ugh, human…and he needs to be loved; hence, weak and vulnerable. So, again, if you want to be a truly cold-blooded hitman: Depeche Mode for the win.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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