Tag: Taraji P. Henson

Although Rihanna has seemingly side-stepped attempts at cancelling her existence after reports revealed that Johnny Depp would be in the Vol. 4 edition of the Savage X Fenty fashion show, some will still find it difficult to stomach Depp’s appearance. Which is somewhat ironic considering how much the public relished the schadenfreude of lambasting Amber Heard for being a “liar and a fraud” during the Depp v. Heard defamation trial that concluded back in June of this year. When, suddenly, Depp looked all shiny and new (read: employable) again upon winning the trial. It didn’t take long, however, for many to understand that vilifying Heard was largely to the benefit of misogynists (which, sadly, also includes many women).

Ones who continue to wield this case as a key example of women being “cunts” not to be trusted or believed. And, to be clear, those touting Depp v. Heard as a “much-needed” beacon of light for men who are abused by women, one ought to consider that a five-foot-eight, one hundred sixty(-plus)-pound man can’t really get all that “hurt” (at least not without weaponry) by someone of Heard’s stature. This isn’t to say women aren’t capable of kicking an ass when necessary, it’s just that one gets the impression Heard was engaging in the same type of maneuvers as Katie (Soleil Moon Frye) in that Friends episode, “The One with the Girl Who Hits Joey”—wherein Joey (Matt LeBlanc) keeps insisting Katie punches him too hard when doing it “playfully.” A claim that, what a surprise, gets validated in Joey’s favor.

In any event, let’s rewind to 2009, when Rihanna herself was the victim of an abusive relationship (and yes, regardless of what people say, Depp was abusive toward Heard, even if “only” verbally…since the physical abuse revealed wasn’t deemed “enough”). Her then-boyfriend, Chris Brown, smacked the shit out of her to such a degree that she couldn’t even pretend to carry on for a scheduled appearance at the Grammys. Cut to 2012-2013, when Rihanna decided to give Brown another chance (resulting in a very uncomfortable musical collaboration on Unapologetic called “Nobody’s Business”). In many ways, that’s what putting Depp in Savage X Fenty Vol. 4 feels like. Another conduit through which to “forgive.” Though, of course, Rihanna apologists would like to say that being a “true” survivor of domestic abuse, she can recognize who has actually been an abuser versus who has suffered abuse. With some (okay, many) saying Depp is the real victim in the scenario. In other words, whatever one needs to tell themselves in order to “comfortably” watch Depp participating in new projects.

Brief though this particular appearance from Depp may be, perhaps the most disturbing element about it is the fact that Rihanna opted to soundtrack his arrival to Outkast’s “So Fresh, So Clean.” For those who might have forgotten the arrogant, “dapper” lyrics, they boast, “Ain’t nobody dope as me/I’m just so fresh and clean/Don’t you think I’m so sexy?/I’m just so fresh and clean.” Obviously, Depp is anything but these two descriptors, which is why Rihanna trying to help “rebrand” him as such feels so cringe. The placement of his “cameo” also seems tailored in such a way as to make viewers largely gloss over it, as it comes neither too close to the beginning nor near the end. Instead, Rihanna wastes no time in announcing that she’s the star of the show as she makes her grand entrance to the very problematic ASAP Rocky song, “D.M.B.” (in case you couldn’t guess, the abbreviation stands for “dats my bitch” or, if you must, “DAT$ MAH B!*$H”). In addition to such gross (and, yes, misogynistic) lyrics as, “Roll my blunt, fill my cup, be my bitch, rub my gut/Rub yo’ butt, be my slut, be my cunt, yeah, so what?,” ASAP also declares, “Bad girls wanna have fun.” This being repeated in remix form as Rihanna does her “dance”/strut against the forest tableau that takes up most of the show. Through this not-so-subtle act of including the theoretically “Bonnie and Clyde”-oriented tone from the outset, Rihanna makes it clear, once again, what her taste in men tends to favor (extending toward none other than Depp).

With that performance out of the way, Rihanna allows room for Precious Lee, who models one of many patterns to the tune of “Lick It N Split” by Zebra Katz and Shygirl. Upon Precious being thrust up against a tree, the song then transitions to the chaotic “Crazy” by Doechii. Men running through the forest with women slung under over their backs seems, evidently, the best way to match this track’s energy. And yet, it also offers more symbolism about what appears to be Rihanna’s own internalized sense of misogyny as women come across as being utterly disposable playthings in such a scene. The pendulum of that sentiment, however, shifts when Missy Elliott’s “Hot Boyz” starts to play—or rather, the sentiment would shift if Damson Idris didn’t materialize in purple pajamas at the center of a group of harem-like women. For “Hot Boyz,” the inverse permutation would be required, with a woman at the center of multiple men instead.

The intent to make every scene of the spectacle present itself as visceral and exotic persists with Anitta. And it only takes about six minutes for the sex-positive Brazilian pop singer to offer her ass to the camera as she sings “Practice” (usually featuring another ASAP, Ferg). The song in question undeniably includes the ideal lyrics for promoting lingerie: “We don’t make babies, but we practice.” She then segues into “Envolver” before more animation (complete with a woman being “enfolded” into a tree) appears to transition us into the next batch of designs to parade. This time, with Cara Delevingne at the center of it all as Nas’ “Oochie Wally” fades into 50 Cent’s “Just A Lil Bit.” It’s here that Taraji P. Henson then leads a line of cavorting women with interconnecting braids (it’s all very elaborate).

Don Toliver subsequently enters into the “majestic forest” with a performance of “Take Your Time,” another lingerie-appropriate track that urges, “Let’s do it baby/Let’s do it tonight/Take me to your crib and we can party all night.” Like Anitta, Toliver also gets to promote two songs, opting for “Way Bigger” as the second one, during which he provides more salacious lyrics tailored to shilling bras and panties. Case in point, “With a bad bitch through the whole pandemic/Lemme hit the hole through the whole ninth inning/Eatin’ and beatin’ the whole night swimmin’.” And this, unfortunately, is what takes us to the Depp part of the show. Which comes at a strategic moment in that Rihanna has already stacked the “fashion parade” with plenty of other cameos, including Taylour Paige, who offers a very memorable monologue before sauntering in “bad bitch mode” to Dave featuring Stormzy’s “Clash.”

Following that, at the twenty-minute mark (halfway through it all), Depp is “blessed” with his screen time. As previously mentioned, Rihanna ill-advisedly opted to soundtrack Depp’s entrance with Outkast’s “So Fresh So Clean”—and yes, even Depp has a look on his face that seems to say, “What am I doing here?” After he does a reluctant “catwalk” through the forest and concludes with hugging a tree (perhaps dendrophilia is his latest flame), another animation sequence arrives. One that fittingly displays some kind of rupture in the universe—this being precisely what has happened with the verdict of the Depp v. Heard trial. After we’re shown the formation of some crystals in cartoon form that become the real-life backdrop of the next set, the scene gives way to a portion of Vol. 4 that does a better job of accenting bombastic maquillage than it does lingerie.

The mood shifts thanks to more animation that provides a cartoon version of Maxwell underwater trying to get his hands on a yellow ball that bursts as he’s then sucked from one hole into another (interpret that metaphor how you will). He then emerges from the next water realm inside that very yellow ball now scaled to a far more massive size. It then shoots up into the sky like a comet so that the real Maxwell can serve as the penultimate performer (of “Whenever, Wherever, Whatever”) amid a backdrop of some very phallic cacti.

The seductive, “drop them panties” attitude continues with Janet Jackson’s “Would You Mind” as a dancer very orgasmically quivers right when Janet utters that very word (“quiver”). Afterward, Jackson’s “Throb” leads us into one of the most flagrantly suggestive animation sequences involving rocket ships and explosions. The wildin’ out choreography continues almost as a means to distract from how this season’s collection isn’t quite as impressive as the one in Vol. 3 (replete with Busta Rhymes songs, to boot). Nonetheless, the choreography is admittedly fire—and continues to be as DJ Blue’s “Look Like You,” Konshens and J Capri’s “Pull Up to Mi Bumper” and Oxlade’s “Ku Lo Sa” play before Burna Boy rounds out the show with, what else, “Last Last” (and “It’s Plenty”).  

The “yellow” segment comprises the finale, featuring Lilly Singh as the initial “centerpiece” of the motif. Yellow, incidentally, representing the color of cowardice—let the viewer be the judge of whether or not Rihanna is either “brave” or cowardly for certain casting decisions in this edition…

For the conclusion, Rihanna opts to close the show with SOPHIE’s “Not Okay” (interpolated with Omarion’s “Touch”). Almost like a subconscious admission of the fact that what she’s done is, well, not okay. And while she might consider herself a champion of artistic freedom or some such, it’s rather a shame that what is actually a very beautifully-presented show should be besmirched with the mark of Depp’s presence. Providing another open invitation for abusers to reemerge once they’re either 1) able to flip the switch on the woman that “falsely accused” them or 2) enough time passes for the public memory to be “just hazy enough” to forget. Though it would take a lot of weed to create the haze necessary to forget about Depp declaring to Heard, “I pushed you” or “I headbutted you in the fucking forehead. That doesn’t break a nose.” Which, honestly, is the last image one wants to have in their head during “sexy time” (not to mention the automatic correlation with Depp to a shit on the bed).