Backup Dancers From Hell: George Michael - “Faith”

We start off with the iconic image of that jukebox in black-and-white while we hear a scratchy recording of “I Want Your Sex“. The camera moves in so we can watch the inner mechanisms of the machine while it slaps another disc on the player, and we cut to George’s butt in those decade-defining acid-washed jeans while the first strains of “Faith” seep into the soundtrack. And there’s that leather jacket that he will later destroy in another video. Ah, memories.

Zip to another shot of the jukebox, but this time we see the lower half of some chippie wearing startling purple high heels, so we can understand that she’s daring but still trampy. Slide to the right, and there’s George’s lower half as well, so we can understand that he’s daring but still in the closet. The camera pans up to show George’s face, with him sporting an immaculately-groomed starter beard, the sunglasses, and the cross earring that tells us he’s religious (or something) but still hip.

George starts tapping his cowboy-booted foot against the jukebox, then we cut to him playing a guitar, followed by another gratuitous butt shot. (Let’s face it folks, George was hot in this video, so they might as well show him shaking one of his money-makers.) Next we have a montage of George still banging on that guitar, with the scenes flopping around from black-and-white to color, so we can understand that somebody on his crew had access to a really fancy video editor at the time.

The guitar-playing goes on for a while, and even though George is cute and everything, it starts to get a bit repetitive. Luckily, someone on the production staff changes things up a bit, so we switch to George’s leather-gloved hands clapping over his head, and the original tart on the left side of the jukebox tapping her slut heels in time to the rhythm. This is an improvement, but I can’t really say it transports me to a nirvanic place and time.

Now George is playing his guitar next to the jukebox, and shaking his booty like something really irritating is in his jeans. He does a couple of twirl moves to show that he’s really serious about his mastery of this instrument, but I really don’t see that it’s necessary for him to act like he’s got crabs once again. (At 2:10 he performs a stunning squat-thrust move that will have you re-thinking any prior conception of what might happen in the privacy of a bedroom.)

More shots of some hands without gloves snapping their fingers in the air. George is really appreciative of percussion, apparently. This is followed by George waving his hand in the air and not even touching his guitar, so I guess this is something you have to do if you want the music to sound right on the single. Shortly after that, George shoves the… top end? not sure what to call it… part of the guitar at the camera, which seems kind of threatening to me. Does George hate us? Why is he doing that?

Quick montage of cowboy-boots tapping, slut heels tramping, and anonymous fingers snapping. It might just be me, but I’m thinking somebody was being a bit of a slacker in the story department here. Then again, it was the 80’s, and all hell broke loose when it came to music videos. I miss that, compared to the auto-programmed crap that comes out these days, so I should probably just shut up and watch.

Now we have George in silhouette, still pounding on that guitar that nobody cares about. (We want butt shots! We want butt shots!) He looks vaguely like a young Elvis, so that might be what George was going for, but since drugs were involved with everything that happened in the 80’s, there’s really no telling. At one point, George squats on the ground and aims his guitar at the losers who thought he should never have left “Wham”, which was a big brouhaha at the time. But seriously. Andrew Ridgeley? He just wanted to race cars. Cut the cord.

And once more with shots of the tramp tapping her foot on the jukebox, only now she’s wearing pink shoes instead of purple. Not sure what this means, but her footwear doesn’t really matter when it comes to George. She ain’t gonna score. Unless she can somehow magically transform herself into an undercover cop at a park bathroom. I’m thinking that’s not gonna happen.

And back to George banging on that damn guitar that I’m starting to really not like. Dude, we don’t know you as a guitar player, we know you as a singer with a great voice. Quit frontin’. But he’s not listening to me. More of the guitar-playing, and more of the pointy cowboy boots shuffling about the stage. The boots have steel tips, which George is going to need when the paparazzi turn on him in a few years.

The song winds down with George and his sunglassed-self still insisting that he be all street with the guitar. Luckily, somebody got the memo about his ass, so he’s back to shaking that thing. George does one final twirl so we can once again read the words on the back of his leather jacket.

“BSA” and “Revenge”. A misspelling of “USA” and a Eurythmics album. That pretty much sums up the Reagan 80’s, don’t you think?

　

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Backup Dancers From Hell: Katy Perry - “Teenage Dream”

So we’re in a convertible, cruising down some nameless highway. It’s probably in California, because as Katy gleefully sang in her last hit, every other state in the country totally sucks. Katy’s hair is blowing in the wind, looking all pretty and everything, but that girl is going to need some de-tangler, stat. Right as I think that, Katy starts pawing at her tresses, so she’s already got some birds and road debris caught up in there.

She calms down for a few seconds, and sings softly without really moving, so we can see that she has some nice designer sunglasses on. They probably cost more than my house. But she looks pretty hot, which is the whole point, right? Doesn’t matter what the words are.

Oh look, her companion, the driver, is pretty hot as well, all scruffy and gazing at her with barely concealed passion. Which is a nice way to be gazed at, but really, shouldn’t he be watching the road?

Then we cut to a gym somewhere, so the driver can show us that he has other talents, like the ability to take off his shirt while squatting on the floor, and can wrap his own hands in a very tattered Ace bandage. And he can bounce around on his feet while staring at a punching bag, using basically the same look that he gave Katy back in the car, so there might be some unresolved anger issues.

Speaking of the convertible, we’re back in it, with the camera lingering on the car keys dangling from the dashboard, just so we can know they do have permission to be driving this car and didn’t just steal it. Katy’s suddenly very tired, probably from all that wind drag, and is laying back in her seat, singing some more. Then she decides she’s not all that sleepy and starts pawing on the driver, warbling about going all the way tonight. She frisky.

The beat of the song really kicks in, along with Katy’s libido, and the driver is inspired to floor it, so they can hurry up and get somewhere that Katy can satisfy her burning needs. The increased velocity causes Katy to shove her head up into the wind stream again, so I guess she didn’t learn anything the first time she did that.

As startled insects bounce off Katy’s fluttering eyelids, she spies some folks in a nearby red truck. They appear to be bellowing rednecks, so I’m not sure that we should be having anything to do with them. Katy agrees and throws her arm in the air in defiance. This causes another convertible to come along, apparently occupied by The Village People. (Why else would one of them be wearing an Indian headdress?)

Katy likes these folks better, so she alternates between reaching toward their car with welcoming abandon and groping her own driver’s crotch. This goes on for a while until somebody reminds The Village People that they don’t matter anymore, and they drive off.

Now we’re in a parking lot near the ocean, with lots of people who didn’t have enough clothes to complete their outfits or mistakenly thought they were attending a college lecture. Katy high-fives her driver, because they’re still the cutest couple. Then they flirt for a bit, happy and carefree because they’re young and don’t have any credit-card debt.

Then the driver spies something on the back of Katy’s neck, probably road kill, which inspires him to flop her on the hood of a car and give her a few smooches while she undulates and waves her arms over her head.

This inspires them to run to a nearby hotel, where apparently there are some cleaning-staff issues, because the bed in their room hasn’t been made. This doesn’t seem to be a problem, as the driver proceeds to hurl Katy on the bed and they both start ripping their clothes off in a frenzy. (Maybe they only paid for one hour.)

So now we’re cutting back and forth between the couple as they dance by the beach and have sex on the beach-themed bed. For added entertainment during this montage, the crowd in the parking lot decides it’s really hot out here, so everybody starts ripping off various bits of clothing (like it was really necessary, considering how skimpy everything was to begin with) and running into the ocean.

This three-way goes on for a while, with the dancing, the stripping and running and splashing, and the very agile sex in the cheesy motel room. We get to see Katy’s panties, the odd bruises on the driver, and the startlingly large package on some dude in a Speedo. I guess in California everybody is really horny and really well-endowed. That seems to be the motif.

I guess a bell rang and the happy people had to get back to class, because we suddenly see Katy, her hair nicely-coiffed despite her adventures, standing in a school hallway and fiddling with her locker. She happens to spy the driver punching his bag in the conveniently-nearby gym, and she has to stop and stare. He pummels, she drools, fingering her locker door. Then she gently closes her locker, and of course the driver can hear this tiny click over the sounds of his huffing and pounding. They gaze at one another with lust and devotion.

Then we wrap things up in a parking lot. It might be the same one from earlier, but it’s hard to tell because it’s now dark and there are distracting elements like guys on skateboards and somebody on a cross-country bike. Oh, and several girls exploring their lesbian side, popping each other’s bubble gum with their lips and exchanging delicate kisses. It’s nice that Katy doesn’t judge her friends and welcomes all.

Somebody hands out road flares for the rousing final dance number, which is choreographed to indicate that everybody got crabs while running on that beach. Lots of jumping and drink-throwing. And intimate popsicle-sucking. And hair-flipping. These people are really talented.

We end with Katy and the driver going at it again in a swimming pool. This proves that they must really be in love, because chlorine burns, right? If you can tolerate chemical abrasion, you were meant to be together…

　

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Searching For Signal: #151 - “Big Brother” - Season 12, Episode 14

We start with the review of the last episdoe (Kristen cries, Hayden lies, blah, blah) and then here comes the Announcer Guy with far too many questions: “Who will win HOH? Will the HOH open Pandora’s box? Will there be a new Saboteur in the house? Will Julie ever figure out that she needs to have more than one facial expression?”

Cut to the giant paint can still rotating in the courtyard. No one looks very happy, and everyone has blotchy paint on their couture. We watch them turn for a while, hoping that someone falls and thereby creates some excitement. But they don’t, the damn thing just keeps turning and nothing is happening, so we instead have some Diary Room confessions:

Brendon: “I gotta win this thing!” No, duh. But seriously, let’s have some originality in the Diary Room, shall we? I’d pay good money for someone to just scream “I have crabs!” and then point.

Matt: “We gotta get The Bridge name up in lights!” Really? Are you planning on a Broadway Show? The Brigade starring in “Sunday in the Park with Whores”.

Hadyen: “Kristen deserves to be here way more than those clowns (Rachel and Brendon).” And whys is that, Hay? Because Kristen was so good at what? Crying? Because that’s all I’ve got in MY notes.

Rachel: Whoops, I have her name down like she said something, but no quotes or remarks. Let’s just assume she said something really loud and obnoxious, and made people not care for her even more.

Kathy: “I knew I was the only vote for Hayden. And the last time I was the only vote, I went straight to the block. But I’m not a puppet!” Not sure about that, Kath. With that painted-on surprised expression on your face, you certainly look like you might be sitting on someone’s hand.

Britney: “I had a huge blob of paint right over my mouth!” That was a sign from God, Britney. Think about it. And talk less.

Back out to the courtyard, paint can still whirling. Suddenly, Kathy hollers “I’m gonna take the Have-Not for everybody. Deal?” Then she hit’s the ground like a sack of potatoes. Everyone just stares at her, because that was kind of stupid. (Kathy in the Diary Room: “I want them to think I’m not a threat.” Done.)

Then Lane is in the Diary Room, initially babbling something boring about how strong he is, then he shows us his flexed right bicep. Holy cow that thing is big. I think my life just changed in some significant way.

We keep getting treated to shots of Rachel, sitting off to the side and hollering at Brendon on the paint can: “You’re the best EVER!” Over and over. To the point where the entire Western hemisphere wants to kill her.

Then Enzo gives up and drops. (Matt in the Diary Room: “Enzo is the most selfish player in the game,” always letting other people work for a win. Then kick him off your team, dude. Problem solved.)

Brendon drops. (Rachel in the Diary Room: “I’m SO frustrated with him. He needed to win for me. I did it TWICE for him.” Then she turns to her hair for sympathy, and they have a rare moment of silence as they consider their fates.)

Brendon limps over to where pouty Rachel is sitting, with Brendon being all apologetic and Rachel pretending to understand even though she doesn’t. This leads to extended bickering. Oh, just break up, you two. Nobody cares anymore.

Lane goes down (so much for those biceps), Britney goes down (making a squeak of slight pain that I enjoyed far too much), and then Hayden tumbles. (Hayden in the Diary Room: “The fate of The Brigade is in Matt’s hands again.” Matt in the Diary Room: “Getting a little tired that it’s always me” that pulls The Brigade through. So, maybe you need to jump alliances, eh? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?)

Finally, Ragan goes down and Matt wins HOH.

Immediately, Matt, Enzo and Hayden race to the pantry, again working really hard to hide their alliance. Hayden and Enzo act all cocky, even though they had nothing to do with the win.

Brendon approaches Rachel in one of the rooms, doing the “puppy dog that just wants to be loved” thing. Rachel fiddles with a stack of underwear or something, pretending to be busy and not upset, even though she is. When he persists with his pathetic neediness, she pushes him away. He wanders off to piddle on the carpet somewhere.

It’s time to see Matty’s HOH Room, so everybody tromps up the spiral staircase for a round of fake “ooohhing” and “aaahhing”. Britney intentionally goes overboard, having small orgasms as she fondles knick-knacks about the room. She’s actually entertaining, and I can briefly tolerate her.

A bit later, Matt goes into the HOH Room alone, and there’s that giant question mark on the wall and the whole Pandora’s box mess. It seems he can win the “diamond power of veto” if he opens Pandora. Matt contemplates the possible stipulations (“maybe I can’t tell anybody and this will backfire on me”) but then he decides he doesn’t care. “Let’s do it.”

Matt snatches up the Veto and some more detail. He has the power to pull somebody off the block AND name the replacement. He can do this once anytime over the next two weeks. But he can’t tell anybody. And, oh yeah, something really bad is going to happen to the rest of the house. Have a nice day!

Matt runs to his suitcase, hides the diamond Veto, snatches up the “$1” card he won during the wet wiener ride, then marches downstairs and assembles the houseguests. He tells them a bogus story about only winning one dollar.

No one really buys his story for a second. (Even Lane fesses in the Diary Room that “something’s fishy”.) Then we have a few scenes with various folks still not believing Matty. Hayden, Ragan and Kathy are in the daybed room, with Ragan pontificating: “The thing with Pandora’s box is that there’s always good and bad.” Ragan thinks that someone is going to be brought back into the house.

Two seconds later, Ragan finds out some of what’s really going on.

He’s called to the Diary Room, and finds his name on an envelope. “Oh, this is NOT good.” He opens it and reads the offer: became the Saboteur, pull three tricks a week for two weeks, and win $20K. He contemplates for a very long, starting to get boring, time, and then decides if America voted for him to do it, he will.

Instantly, the Announcer Guy is informing us “We have a new Saboteur!” (Um, yeah, we just saw that, thanks though.) “Send in your Saboteur suggestions!”

Later, Rachel wanders up to Matt and Ragan lounging on the daybed. Rachel: “I know you’re gonna put me up unless I make a deal.” Ragan asks if he should leave, and Rachel says she doesn’t really care, “I know you guys are a team.” This remark sets Ragan off, not sure why, perhaps that hand he has shoved down the back of his pants found something he hadn’t wished to find. Ragan: “No one in this house has approached me. We are NOT a team.”

It gets worse. Rachel tries explaining that she didn’t really mean anything with the remark, but Ragan doesn’t believe her. The words get louder and louder. I don’t really know what the motivator here is, but I’m thinking Ragan is way out of line or that we have missed a prior confrontation.

Brendon hears the arguing, and comes in to “have Rachel’s back”. This just stirs things up even more, we get even louder, and now the whole house can hear. Rachel finally turns to Brendon: “Why don’t you and Ragan leave?” They stomp out the door, glaring at one another.

Matt: “I know that’s not why you came in here.” Rachel: “I’m not sure there’s any reason to talk, now.” Then Rachel just sits there glumly, her hair distressed and forlorn.

Meanwhile, out in the kitchen area, Brendon tries explaining to the other peeps what just happened, and Ragan now jumps on HIM. More yelling. Sighing, Rachel marches out there, grabs her doggy by the tail, and drags him back to the daybed, where Matty is grinning from ear to ear as he sucks up all this drama which takes the attention completely off of him.

Rachel to Matt: “Why not have two strong people on your side?” Matt: Because I know that one of you is still going to come after me.

Later still, we hear odd sounds on the video monitor, and everybody in the house, probably out of sheer boredom, starts screaming “The Saboteur!” and running to the couch room like they all got a gas bubble at the same time. They gaze at the monitor in rapture as Darth Vader speaks again: “Guess who’s back? Thanks, Matt, for opening the box. You all better watch your back or I’ll be stabbing you in it!”

The monitor goes dead, there’s a long discussion about why ANYBODY would WANT to be the Saboteur (Ragan tries not to gulp too obviously, but dude, you look like an extra in “The Ring”), and then people line up at the Diary Room door.

Matt: “I shoulda never touched it.” (Oh, you could have touched it. The problem was your lame-ass story that even your mother wouldn’t believe.)

Britney: “I’m pissed off! There’s enough drama” in this house already. (Which means even less of a spotlight on YOU, which irks you greatly. I know, right?)

Ragan: “I am FREAKING. OUT!” (Well, unless you’re really, really good with this Saboteur thing, you won’t have to be freaking out for very long. Instead, you’ll be talking to Julie and clutching your Lady Gaga CD.)

More Diary Room mess, as Matt decides who he’s putting on the block:

Rachel: “Matt is too much of a pansy NOT to nominate us.” (Pansy, probably. Tired of you in general? Bingo.)

Enzo: “We’ll see if the gremlin does what he’s supposed to do.” (I totally don’t get this crappy 1970’s car reference. Is Matty ugly with a hatchback?)

Matt: “It’s time to take this nomination thing to a whole new level.” (Which is fancy talk for “I’m going to nominate Rachel and Brendon.”)

Time for the Nomination Ceremony.

Matt nominates Rachel and Brendon.

Matt: “This couldn’t be less personal or more strategic. You guys are a major power in the house.”

Rachel in the Diary Room, crying: She babbles something about Brendon being a lost puppy. Or maybe she’s the lost puppy. Or there’s a lost puppy in her hair. I don’t remember, because this is all overridden by her last statement, where she admits to really, really needing another Botox injection.

This is girl is just so wrong on so many levels.

Roll end credits.