We start out by peeking into Adam’s bedroom, where he’s lying morosely on the bed and staring at nothing. Cut to him behind a desk, sitting there morosely and staring at nothing. And some more of the moroseness on a couch. Then he’s fiddling with a remote control, which might explain his sadness. Those things are so complicated these days. The buttons never do what you think they’re gonna do.
Now the video starts to tell two different stories, the thread where Adam is just very blue about either a relationship or the eventual disappointment of new electronics, and a new plot direction where someone seems to be stalking Adam in his own house. The sad Adam continues to stare blankly at things, while the stalked Adam keeps whipping his head around to glare at unseen noise and movement. It’s a little creepy, that second bit.
One of the Adam’s goes into the kitchen and lethargically tries to eat Chinese takeout, but it’s really not what he wants out of life so he gives up after a while. This leads to Adam and his band performing somewhere that doesn’t have a lot of lighting. (Quick scene of Adam being shoved in a limo, so apparently we had to drive to wherever this place is.) Adam’s rocking out, stalkers and leftovers temporarily forgotten.
But not for long, because we are soon seeing more shots of Adam back in his apartment, turning and looking behind him in surprise. (You would think he could afford some type of security detail that could come in and take care of this situation. Or at least get a dog. Something besides wandering from room to room and being all jumpy. Life’s too short.)
More quick scenes with Adam performing, coupled with a new setting where Adam is wandering the Moors of Scotland. Oh wait, maybe not. But he’s outside, that’s fairly clear. Wherever he is, the trees and shrubbery must be good listeners, so he sings to them for a while. The greenery doesn’t seem to be judging him, which is good, because Adam needs that kind of support right now, trying to figure out what people want from him.
Back to the apartment, where Adam is starting to get a little testy with his stalker, as he should. We still can’t see this person, but Adam is giving some lip back, probably feeling more confident now that he’s wearing a suit and tie. The camera kind of bops around for a bit, then we see suited-Adam standing in his library and suddenly somebody slams the door. Okay, we’ve officially moved from a simple stalking tale to more of a slasher movie. Whatever you do, Adam, do NOT have sex with anyone in the next little bit, because the sluts always die at the beginning of horror flicks. Word.
Some more scenes with the band rocking, and then somebody starts packing a suitcase. I don’t think this is actually Adam, so it’s either the serial killer (who apparently brought a lot of accessories) or maybe some other cute guy that Adam was thinking of getting intimate with until the killer showed up and he could no longer have sex. This packing person doesn’t shove very much in the suitcase, so they must not plan to be gone very long.
Now we have Adam slumped in a couch and staring at a photograph, then a quick glimpse of Adam contemplating doing something lethal with a pair of chopsticks. Back to more of the photograph-studying, so this must be a very important picture. But since they won’t let us see it, we have no idea. For all we know it could be a shot of Paula Abdul throwing a kumquat at Simon Cowell.
More glimpses of sadness and despair in the House of Blue Adam, followed by the band kickin’ it for realz. This starts a montage of all the various goings on we’ve seen so far, with little to update other than it appears that the killer stalker might need to start worrying about what Suit Adam can do to him. Adam looks like he’s had enough and the fingerless gloves are about to come off. (Still no clue on what’s happening in that photograph, though.)
Final shot is of Adam leaning toward the camera, smiling, as if he’s happy to see someone.
It could be a trick, Adam. Whatever you do, don’t choose this time to make popcorn on the stove. Just ask Drew Barrymore.
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