Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “You And I”

  We start out with Gaga marching down a dusty road, decked out in some tribute-to-Skeletor getup, complete with coordinated veils and death mask. Seems girl has been trudging down that road for some time, long enough that her feet are all bloody and she’s got a bit of an attitude. But before we can tell her “honey, if you’d just take those eight-inch heels off it wouldn’t be so bad” we whisk to another.. I’m not sure what it is.

  And then the images and costume changes start flying. Somebody’s hiking up her skirt, some corpses are getting married, something about fingernails, melting ice cream cones, ugly street vendors, possible cattle-prod usage and public tinkling. Gaga goes at it all with gusto, in that amazing knack she has of creating startling but mesmerizing images that may not mean anything but she’s having such a hell of a good time that you’re right there with her.

  Anyway, the song proper starts, and we’re back with the original Gaga character, she of the black veils, now standing in the middle of what passes for an intersection in Podunk, Nebraska. She poses for a while, because her outfit is really striking and we need to study all of it, then she starts prancing around with an attitude, sashaying, while at the same time trying to fix one of her arms that has apparently short-circuited. Then she throws down a black rose and goes stomping toward an ice cream truck, which is exactly where I would go if my arm was making buzzing noises and didn’t have any flesh.

  Cut to another Gaga, this one wearing very little makeup and playing a piano in the middle of a cornfield at night. Sitting on top of said piano is Jo Calderone, the alter ego that Gaga has created as a means to… well, the jury’s still out on that one. But kudos to the special effects person that blended these two into the scene. You really believe that Jo is right there, smoking cigarettes and guzzling beer while Gaga bops her head dangerously close to Jo’s crotch. They look sweet together.

  We spend a little time with them, because when you stumble across a piano from the corn rather than a child, you might as well make the best of it. (We get some jump shots of Black Veil Gaga stomping around on those roads, but she doesn’t seem to know where she’s going so we can check back on her later.) While Gaga tinkles, this time with the piano keys and not herself, Jo does manly things like spit and grab at his crotch and not bathe.

  Hold up, more whirring images again. Some shirtless guy (good costume choice, sayin) is messing around with Gaga dressed as a severe RuPaul angel, another shirtless guy (or maybe the same, we’re just seeing torsos here, fine by me) is kissing a Gaga dressed as a dead nurse, and there’s something about a barn. Then we’re back to the RuPaul angel, and Shirtless is fiddling with chemistry-set looking things while RuPaul tries not to be eaten alive by her costume.

  And the possible barn theme is confirmed when we cut to a Green-Haired Gaga leading a line dance. (It’s just not a Gaga video without one.) Leave it to Gaga to all out hoof it up in a big production number involving horse stalls and haylofts. She and her girl posse flop around for a bit, stirring up dust that probably doesn’t feel good once it’s trapped under those leather outfits they are all barely wearing.

  While the Horsey Hoes pivot and twirl, we drop by one of the other set pieces in the video for a status update. RuPaul appears to be getting her mouth oiled by Shirtless, followed by something to do with an old-timey hypodermic being shoved into RuRu’s neck and causing her to…

  Turn into a mermaid? I think. All that’s certain is that we now have Gaga as FishWoman, reclining in an antique bathtub that would probably run you 25K at Restoration Hardware, while Shirtless is dumping pails of water on her. (He’s a very busy boy.) She’s also managed to lose her top somewhere along the line, testing the patience of censors with the creative use of a tiny strip of mer-flesh that just barely covers her nipples. (What’s the point, at this point, about even bothering to hide the points? Just asking.)

  Back to the Horsey Hoes and their Equus tribute. Everybody’s still hunching the hay with complete professionalism, showing no signs of stopping, so we can just let them be for now, although at some point they’ll need to find another place to dance because the cows are due for milking shortly. Bessie don’t play when it’s pail time.

  And we visit with Mer-Gaga once more, to find that she is hopelessly devoted to her breasts, caressing them with a love that usually only takes place on certain pay-per-view channels. We also have some mess with Shirtless shoving a gas mask at her, but there’s already so much going on that we’ll just let that go for now.

  Oh, look, it’s time for another montage. Black Veil Gaga is still stomping around that dusty intersection, so I’m not sure that she’s being all that productive. Mer-Gaga is splashing around in her tub in a manner that would have had me sent to my room as a youngster. And Jo and Plain Gaga are still mooning at each other under the harvest moon in the cornfield without children.

  Then the pace kicks up even more, and the jump cuts are too numerous to mention. Suffice it to say that, in general, Shirtless is really invested in transforming Gaga into something else. We’re just not sure what that else might be or exactly which Gaga he is working on at any given time, especially since some new Gagas start cropping up, like Black-Haired Gaga who seems to be doing aerobics in front of a giant wooden wheel while wearing a leftover Barbarella outfit.

  Hold-up, soft-porn alert. Shirtless and his tattoos are gettin’ busy with one of the Gagas, probably Mer-Gaga if you base it on breast-identification. But before the loosely-draped towel on his behind slides off like we want it to, we go back to that damn montage. Now we have images of splashing water, Plain Gaga leading a line dance in the cornfield (you knew it was coming), and a shot of Jo spitting off the back of the piano (how nice of him/her).

  Next we have another teasing snippet of that towel sliding lower on Shirtless, then scenes of Black Veil Gaga still not finding what she’s looking for, more cornfield choreography, Plain Gaga playing the piano with her foot, self-loving mermaids, questionable aerobics, religious references involving the signs of the cross and some hair gel, and a very convincing trick shot of Gaga kissing herself via Jo.

  Did I mention that things were a little busy in this video? Yep, they be.

  Oh, I almost forgot about the Horsey Hoes. We check in on them a few times, including a startling scene where Green-Haired Gaga has apparently managed to get herself stuck high up on a really aggressive stripper pole, and the other Hoes race up a convenient staircase to cut her down. Or something like that. It may have just been a political statement of some kind.

  Brief interlude where Shirtless is sitting around in flimsy, soaking-wet pajama bottoms while Mer-Gaga throws more water on him, then the montage fires up again. Barbarella Gaga is having some type of reaction to shellfish, Plain Gaga suddenly decides it would be fun to run a marathon in the cornfield, Dead-Nurse Gaga is still getting married or some such in the most confusing scenario of many confusing scenarios, and the towel finally gives it up and we get a partial booty shot of Shirtless atop Mer-Gaga. (Pause at 5:08, for those who roll that way, sayin.)

  The tilt-a-whirl finally starts to slow down, and we’re back with Black Veil Gaga, still on that road to nowhere, warbling the slower end of the song. The music fades, and we get one last look at Shirtless and Mer-Gaga, all cozy in their bathtub of lust, a glimpse of Dead-Nurse Gaga and her apparent groom, and a lonely, abandoned farmhouse where little boys and girls used to dream of growing up one day and doing whatever the hell they wanted and people would love them anyway…


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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “The Edge Of Glory”

We start out on a wet, urban street somewhere, with pretty pink smoke billowing around a corner, because things like that always happen when Gaga is in town. Cut to a brief shot of someone screwing around with a cheap window curtain, then back to that corner, where Gaga is now standing, looking very Liza Minnelli in “Cabaret” just before things all went to hell in Berlin between the wars.

More of that person in the window, with smoke gushing out of the apartment, so apparently somebody has microwaved the popcorn too long once again. Then we have Gaga standing on the front steps of the apartment building, next to Clarence Clemons, who is playing a saxophone even though there’s obviously something on fire in the near vicinity.

Back to the window, where we can now see that Gaga is peering out said window whilst wearing an outfit that is vaguely Geisha/Egyptian, sporting sunglasses and yet another haggard wig. The vocals kick in on the song, while Geisha Gaga attempts to climb out the window without disrupting her couture. Cut to Streetwalker Gaga as she struts her wares and lets us know that she’s really partial to studded-leather and gold chains. The camera pans down so we can observe Gaga’s unique skill of walking in high-heel boots without tripping.

The camera focuses on her face again, giving us plenty of time to wonder if Gaga’s hairdo is a tribute to some endangered bipolar species. She doesn’t really explain what’s going on, and instead chooses to walk in a manner that would get a normal citizen arrested for public intoxication. To be fair, she probably can’t see where she’s going, what with the tendrils of her raccoon hair falling in her eyes and such.

We check in on Geisha Gaga at the window. She still hasn’t made it out, despite the obvious fire consuming her apartment. (Maybe a stiletto heel is caught on the window sill?) She’s perched in the window frame, artfully pretending to lose her balance in a manner that allows her to thrust her crotch at the camera.

She finally makes it out onto the fire escape, wailing the “Edge of Glory!” line as more smoke pours out of the building. Brief glimpse of Streetwalker Gaga, then we’re back with Geisha Gaga as she takes two steps on the fire escape and then pauses to bellow more of the song, instead of running like hell as most fire victims would do. Cut back to Stoop Gaga with the sax player, where this Gaga has decided it’s really important that she do a back bend over the stair railing so that her crotch is at an equal-opportunity level for all passersby.

We jump cut around for a bit, visiting all the Gagas, then we settle on Geisha Gaga as she does an interpretive dance on the fire escape, one that might have something to do with the disenfranchisement of the Mongolian people, but that’s just a guess. Then Geisha Gaga inexplicably runs up the fire escape stairs instead of down. (Did she not get the memo about how escaping a fire works?)

Apparently it doesn’t matter, because Geisha Gaga has a lot of swell dance moves that she can perform while working her way upwards. The most important move is something about laying down halfway up the flight of stairs so she can arch her back and touch her breasts. Then she hops up and wiggles her fanny to let us know that she’s just fine, although a bit winded.

Jump cuts to the other Gagas, then back to Geisha still taking forever to work her way up that single flight of stairs. (Girl, what part of “the building’s on fire, get the hell out!” do you not understand?) But no, she thinks it’s really important to stop and do squat-thrusts on every step. We re-visit Streetwalker Gaga, who is really invested in doing some twirling, then back to Geisha Gaga, who decides to rip off her lovely silk top and wave it about. Instead of running for her life.

Then Geisha Gaga runs back down the stairs, which is actually the right thing to do, but really, girl just needs to make up her mind. She goes back to that window where the apartment is on fire, grabs both sides of the window frame, and then leans out in yet another attempt to accent her breasts. Really, honey? We all know you have knockers, we see them every day on the TV. Lets put those away for just a bit until the building is safely evacuated.

Another quick visit with Streetwalker Gaga, then back to Geisha Gaga, who is now rubbing her booty on the brick wall of the building. I’m not sure what she’s trying to accomplish here, but someone should let her know that the last thing we need right now is more friction. And those studded panties are sure to strike a spark.

Brief shot of Stoop Gaga carelessly throwing some trash into the street, another of Geisha Gaga trying to tune in Tokyo with her mammary radar, and then… I don’t know. All of the Gagas seem to have simultaneously hit a caffeine-high as we zip from one to the other. Then, luckily, the sax player finally wakes up and remembers how to play his instrument, so we have a slower bit where all the Gagas thrust various body parts in a less frenetic manner.

After a bit, we focus on Geisha Gaga, who now feels it’s important to recreate certain dance moves from 1984, including the raised fist and the head banging. Then she warps into some burlesque business by throwing her leg over the fire escape railing, and a tribute to angels being reborn despite their penchant for leather accessories. Then Geisha Gaga is mysteriously back in front of the burning window, once again giving herself a breast exam.

And here we go with some crazy jump-cutting. I’ll try to catch the highlights. One of the Gagas kisses the sidewalk, so I guess we have a fetish for wet concrete. Geisha Gaga does a nifty side-kick thing that makes my eyes well up with tears over stupid things we did in high school that we should never do again, then she proceeds to do more of that “bang her ass on the brick wall” mess, followed by a mesmerizing stunt involving her humping the iron railings of the fire escape. This girl is very, very busy.

The jump-cutting continues, with Stoop Gaga recreating scenes from “Streets of Fire” mixed with “Flashdance”, Geisha Gaga doing the exact same drill team routine that I witnessed at high-school football games, and Streetwalker Gaga being overly fond of dance steps that make her gold jewelry sparkle in the dewy wetness provided by the odd pink cloud that keeps billowing around that corner.

Special Artistic Mention: Stoop Gaga manages to find the exact pose that makes her hooters look porn-film worthy. You go, girl.

And that’s really how we wind things down. All of the Gagas are prancing and thrusting with a determination that makes one wonder just what might have happened in her childhood, but none of what we’re seeing can adequately justify her penchant for the split-personality hair follicles.

We end with Geisha Gaga going back into the burning building, Streetwalker Gaga defiantly strutting off to a corner that might bring a better offering of clientele, Stoop Gaga completely AWOL, and a general sense that, if this what it means to be On the Edge, I believe I’ll go for Plan B. I don’t want to wear hooker outfits and not understand how to get my ass away from a burning building. Just sayin.


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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “Judas”

We start out with a motorcycle gang tooling along some highway, a road that is clearly not anywhere in California because there aren’t very many cars around, allowing the motorcycles to stay in formation like a high-school flag corps that can move really, really fast. We don’t know where we’re going, but this is a Gaga video, and she probably doesn’t know either. It’s all about the ride, yes?

Speaking of Gaga, there she is, perched behind the driver of the lead motorcycle (Gaga doesn’t follow anybody, sayin’), her psychedelic hair blowing in the wind as she looks around to make sure everybody is looking at her. One of the bikers has “Judas” spelled out in studs on the back of his jacket. We don’t know if that’s actually him or if he’s just a fan.

Just as we’re about to get bored (because how long can you watch motorcycles going nowhere, even if they are synchronized?), Gaga shoves her well-insured fist in the air and the song starts. The dudes are still driving, but at least we get to start seeing several side-stories being played out. There are a ton of these sidebar dance-offs, and I’ll try to keep track, but Gaga is a very busy girl.

Okay, first we’ve got the tale of how Gaga is absolutely enthralled with this guy wearing a gold-encrusted crown of thorns. Her deep devotion requires that she wear a crown of her own and constantly paw at Thorn-Baby so that we can confirm he does indeed have pectoral muscles. Gaga bounces all around on the back of that cycle, probably doing an intricate dance, but possibly just trying to keep one of those pretty thorns from putting her eye out. (It’s all fun and games until somebody gets disabled by headgear.)

The gang finally stops off at some odd little town square where the buildings are ugly and no one is dressed properly. Gaga immediately hops off her ride while waving about a purple cape, and then proceeds to lead many of the villagers in a line dance. While these energetic folks flit and gyrate, we get quick shots of the remaining villagers that indicate we might have interrupted a primitive religious ceremony wherein sad people ponder their sins while a disco beat plays.

Whoopsie, Gaga seems to have suddenly lost most of her clothing, but something tells me that’s probably a stipulation in her contract for every video. No matter, everybody still has the rhythm in them, and they all magically know the same exact dance steps. We start seeing another sidebar, where Gaga is trying to tell us something while clutching at her hair, but I’m thoroughly distracted by the fact that Gaga has discovered yet another interesting way to apply eyeliner. Perhaps someday someone will tell her that the stuff should actually go NEAR her eyes.

The main story has moved inside one of the buildings, some sort of tavern-slash-boudoir where people look a little more angry than they really should when alcohol is available. (Maybe the service is bad.) Luckily, the people in this place also know the steps to any dance that Gaga might break into, so a bunch of them go at it for a bit. (In case you’re tracking the wardrobe, Gaga has changed her panties and replaced that crown with a nice bandana, transitioning to a delightful biker/pole-dancer look.)

(Side note: For extra credit, try counting how many times that one guy with the Fred Flintstone wardrobe mysteriously disappears and then reappears from the dance troupe.)

We cut back to the guy with the spiky hat, and he’s watching some other guy be really rough and naughty with some random wenches. Spike seems to be a bit unimpressed with this other guy’s behavior, but I’m not sure why. After all, his own girlfriend is currently shoving her woman bits at all four corners of the room at the same time. Perhaps we’ll learn more later. Or not.

Quick scene with some meaty guys stomping their feet on the ground outside, then Gaga appears in another outfit, this one involving a blue veil, a different bandana, and a posse of men who have apparently all lost their shirts in a tragic couture mishap. Doesn’t matter, without restrictive clothing they can now dance with even more abandon, and they proceed to do so. Gaga leads them in an extended interpretive dance that tells the shocking story of what can happen if you touch an electrical outlet with wet hands.

We have another sidebar mess involving a bejeweled mace, more sad people in the midst of some religious something or other, and Gaga making out with what I think is a piece of rope. I have no idea what’s going on, so I’m glad when a brawl breaks out and diverts our attention. Big-haired harlots race in to separate the shoving and yelling thugs, sending them into time-out.

Back to Gaga and her troupe, now dancing out the story of what can happen if a thermonuclear reactor is not treated with respect. While they are doing that, we see that the one Mean Guy who roughly tongued a tart a few scenes back is still being an ass to the women. Of course, maybe if those girls wore more than a paper clip and a rubber band, they might get a little more respect.

A string of crazed jump shots, then we have Gaga dressed in an aggressive getup that might have been inspired by nuns on acid. She doesn’t appear to be very happy, probably because the hat she’s sporting is bigger than the rest of her body and it must be a bitch to hold her head up. Oh, and she has a gun, which she is pointing at Mean Guy while Spike gazes on benevolently and shirtlessly. Uh oh.

Gaga shoves the gun in Mean Guy’s face and pulls the trigger. But instead of a bullet, we have lipstick growing out of the business end of the gun. (To be honest, that little action looked a bit more horny-canine than I think people intended.) Gaga smears the lipstick all over Mean’s face, and then drops to the ground in anguish, apparently having just spied a vision of Mary Magdalene in her impromptu facial artwork.

Suddenly, the music stops, and we branch into two stories. One involves Gaga standing on a rocky beach in Elizabethan attire while a wave approaches, and the other has Gaga apparently giving herself an erotic rinse in a giant birdbath. The first story is a bit predictable (yep, the wave eventually knocks her ass in the water), so we’ll go into more detail with the second thread. (Basically, will she get clean or won’t she?)

The camera pulls back, and we see that the giant birdbath also contains Spike and Mean Guy, both of them looking slightly anxious but neither of them hightailing it out of there. (There’s also a third story with Spike working his way through a crowd of trampy yet devotional people, but we’ve already got too much going on to wonder what the hell that’s all about.)

Birdbath Gaga washes the feet of her aqua men in tight close-up. (Mean Guy has some really ugly-ass toes, which might explain his bitter attitude toward life.) Then Gaga abruptly flings water into the air and the music kicks in again. Quick, unexplained shot of Mean kissing the cheeks of Spike before a crowd of bored and nameless extras, then we have Enraged Nun Gaga dropping to her knees in front of Spike, followed by Tammy Wynette Gaga still clutching her face and showing us her overly-detailed nail polish.

No idea.

We revisit the birdbath, and we watch as Mean pours a can of beer on Gaga’s quivering fanny while she’s on all fours and salivating all over Spike’s knee. Then Mean tosses the empty can over his shoulder as Beer Foam Gaga lunges toward Spike in a frenzy of release and clanking, oversized jewelry.

Back outside, Peace Train Gaga is dancing with yet another lineup of oddly-clad townsfolk, joyously celebrating who knows what (the potential Immaculate Conception in the birdbath?) and proving that they have an excellent body fat ratio. This is followed by the appearance of yet another Gaga, this one requiring that she sport black-and-white striped tresses while wearing a sparkly wedding gown.

It seems that the crowd milling around Zebra Gaga is not appreciative of her sartorial selection, and they seem to be throwing telekinetic punches at her, causing her to stagger and grasp at her midsection like she’s regretting her menu choice at the Mexican restaurant. She eventually crashes facedown in a flurry of anguish and ruined finery.

Quick shot of a Gaga with shredded wheat cakes on her head, crying, and then we close with a final glimpse of Dead-Bride Gaga on the ground, with one leg sticking out of her poofy attire, the foot encased in a shoe that mystifyingly makes me wonder if a surprised clown is trapped under there somewhere…


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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “Paparazzi”

  Okay, Gaga’s put together another little mini-movie. This one starts out with pretty images of a fancy estate somewhere, complete with well-tended gardens and the absence of anyone wearing non-couture outfits. The title credits roll, and we see that Alexander Skarsgard is also in this. (Eric from “True Blood”! Yay! I hope he exposes as much of himself as Lady Gaga does, because you know she’s going to be waving her hoo-hoo around, whatever the song might be.)

  We get scenes inside the house, and it’s clear that whoever lives here makes so much money that they just have to leave stacks of it lying around, they’re so bored with trying to spend it all. Cut to a bedroom, where Lady and Eric are astraddle each other in bed. Sadly, they are both wearing clothes. (Well, in Gaga’s case, she’s typically wearing whatever she could find in Liberace’s tool drawer.)

  The two of them are having some insipid conversation about whether or not they love each other, but I’m distracted by Lady’s “tribute to Liza Minnelli” wig. Then they smooch for a while, but no fangs appear, so I’m a little disappointed. The love-making gets a little more passionate, which naturally inspires Eric to lift Gaga off the bed and carry her out on a balcony. (Hmm. Does Gaga have something that needs to be aired out?)

  He plops her down on a convenient railing that is just the right height for some vertical lovin’, and we suddenly realize that someone is taking pictures of them. Gaga surprisingly gets a little bent out of shape. (Did she hear the cameras? Surely she’s not bothered by them. Girl has cameras in her bidet.) Whatever the case, they tussle a bit and then Gaga slaps Eric. He doesn’t really care for that so he just shoves her ass off the balcony. Oh my.

  As Lady Gaga falls, she does a nice tribute to the movie “Vertigo”, complete with dramatic poses and some hand choreography. Cut to Gaga splattered on the pavement below, with paparazzi rushing to take her picture. Even in death, Gaga looks artsy and chic. Newspaper headlines start flashing across the screen, announcing the end of both Lady Gaga and her career. How sad. (Well, except for Madonna.)

  Hold up. Looks like Gaga survived, because we next have her being assisted out of a limo and placed in a wheelchair, while she wears a cinnamon bun on her head and happy servants do a line dance. While that mess is going on, we start seeing another Lady Gaga, this one wiggling around on a fancy couch while wearing a modified version of those plastic-ring things used to hold cans of soda together. This Gaga likes to do things with her tongue and show us her pretty leather gloves.

  Back to the wheelchair business, where Gaga is being wheeled into (presumably) her house. Just before they cross the threshold, she and her servants do a rousing jazz-hands thing. I don’t know if that was for good luck or they just have the music in them. Anyway, they get her ass inside, and the dancing servants start assisting her with changing her outfit. (I guess she was too tired to go somewhere private and do this.)

  Quick shot of a dead Playboy bunny in a bathtub. What in gay hell?

  And don’t forget about Couch Gaga, who is still trying to prove something which pretty much requires that she ride that couch like it’s a rodeo and a bull just shot out of a chute. Of course, none of her movements mess up her hairdo, because that would just be too tragic for anyone to take.

  Anyway, back at the Rehabilitation Clinic, Gaga is now wearing an outfit inspired by “Metropolis”, and is struggling to get on her feet using little walker things. To provide moral support, more dancers come in from the sides and do a routine. It’s over the top, and I think we can all agree that we will never see a line dance quite like this one again.

  Shot of another pretty but dead woman, possibly in the garden. Then we have a dead female impersonator wearing Statue of Liberty headgear. What’s up with these dead people? Somebody around here does not like to be contradicted.

  More fun with Couch Gaga, as she continues to get the antique furniture all sticky, and additional shots of glamorous dead people sprawled around the estate. (Oh look, even that nice maid apparently plummeted from an upper floor onto the tiled entryway. I guess she didn’t bring someone’s tea on time.) Wait, now Couch Gaga has some friends joining her on the couch, and they both look like Greg Allman. Then they’re gone. And then they’re back, so inspired by Gaga’s writhing that everyone decides to shove tongues down each others’ throats. How nice.

  Oh boy, another Gaga, this one wearing a drug-inspired senorita outfit and marching into a room with a bevy of similarly-dressed attendants. Naturally, it’s time for another line dance, and away they go. If I had to give their routine a name, it would be along the lines of “Reenactment of That Time When the Flock of Psychotic Hummingbirds Attacked Picasso during the Running of the Bulls. Part Two.” Or something like that.

  Well, look at that. There’s a third Greg Allman sucking face with Gaga.

  Anyway, The Hummingbirds fly back to wherever, and now we have another Gaga. This one also likes doing things with her tongue, and has a fondness for feathery headdresses and tributes to Napoleon’s horse. (This is intercut with shots of more supermodels that will never hit another runway.) There’s also something about Dalmatians, but this is very obscure.

  And we start to wind things down with Lady Gaga and Eric back together again, no explanation given. His fashion statement in this scene is a metallic eye patch and the lack of pants. Her motif is a Minnie Mouse rip-off paired with odd black lipstick that makes her mouth look tiny. They’re in one of the sitting rooms of the estate, where they have just been brought refreshments by presumably the last surviving member of the household staff.

  As newspaper headlines flash that, whoops, our bad, Gaga is really alive and still dominating the entertainment world, Gaga hops up and fixes Eric a nice cocktail. We see her slip what looks like poison into his drink, so I guess she’s not quite over his having tossed her butt over the side of the building, but then she licks the spoon after stirring the concoction. Hmm. Is this going to be a Romeo and Juliet ending? Probably not. Gaga still has a few albums left on her contract.

  Gaga prances back over to the couch and hands the drink to Eric and his eye patch. He takes a swig while Gaga patiently sips her own tea, and then he dies, rudely dropping his glass onto the fancy carpet next to his purple silk socks. Gaga grins weirdly, puts her sunglasses on Eric, then slips out of the room to see if the Allman Brothers need anything.

  Next we have the police and such checking out Eric’s body, then wheeling it out of the house. Cut to Lady Gaga and her traffic-cone hairdo being escorted to a waiting car while the paparazzi goes crazy with attention and devotion. More newspaper headlines inform us that she’s been found innocent and all is well. But we still end the flick with Gaga and her metal bustier in a police lineup. In typical Gaga fashion, she makes even potential incarceration sexy and fun…

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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “Born This Way”

Note: I will be constantly biting my tongue all through this review. The buzz is already all over the place that the sound and structure of this song is WAY too conveniently familiar to Madonna’s “Express Yourself”, and now Lady Gaga is pushing the envelope as far as she can by taking images from that video, and Madonna icons in general, and twisting them around. It’s a fine line that Gaga is walking in her lace-up stiletto boots. And here we go…

We start off with the cinematic imagery being framed in a pink V, so, since this is Gaga, I’ll have to assume that she’s doing some type of vulva tribute. There’s a unicorn mucking about, and then we have a contortionist woman appear on screen wearing an odd frozen Amadeus mask with her arms or possibly her legs chained up behind her. Oh wait, the camera spins around while princess music plays and we see that the mask is actually on the back of Gaga’s head, and that somebody has applied so much eyeliner to her real face that Gaga looks like she just showed up at a methadone clinic.

We get a voice-over babbling about the “Manifesto of Mother Monster”, and the voice proceeds to tell us a very extended version of somebody getting pregnant among the intergalactic stars. It’s apparently a very important birth, since there are lots of flowers floating around and pretty music. Next we have images of what MIGHT be the actual birth, with presumably vaginal explosions coming at us front and center, but you never really know with a Gaga video.

As trampy midwives assist with the delivery, we also learn that there’s some type of placental battle between good and evil, which requires that we see the image of George Washington wearing blue eye-shadow whilst shooting out of a womb. (I may never eat another marshmallow again.) The delivery finally comes to fruition, I think, and we see Gaga in a row of heads, with Gaga being the only one that looks slightly cute, but “cute” is relative when the other heads are dripping masses of undeveloped goo.

Next we have some mess with red-tinted bodies doing some type of pornographic line dance choreographed by Satan, leading to a stunning image where I do believe that we see some random penises. Not really sure about that part, but I’ve seen a few of those things in my time and I’m fairly certain we have wands waving.

Cut to Lady Gaga astraddle some device that requires her to spread her legs really wide. Oh, and also give birth to something demonic with an un-pretty face. (It was probably not a good day for her, just sayin.) The now-getting-irritating voice-over woman keeps chattering away about the good and evil thing, but we really aren’t paying attention because the current Gaga onscreen is breaking water in a very dramatic way while a nose-ringed demon shows us his teeth.

Post-birth, Gaga pulls out a machine gun and starts shooting at anything that moves. I’m guessing she didn’t really enjoy her time in the stirrups. Then we cut to Gaga waving her machine gun about while letting high-velocity fans whip her hair all over the place. Based on the billowing hairstyle and non-ample cleavage, I’m guessing Gaga is really pissed about Shelly Hack being hired for “Charlie’s Angels” and not her.

Shelly Gaga disappears from the screen, and we close in on what at first appears to be odd frogs in a herringbone pattern. As the camera nears, we learn that the frogs are actually people bent over in a squatting position, possibly praying to Gaga and her amazing ability to color-coordinate birthing scenes. Next thing you know, Gaga shows up, wearing basically nothing except tattoos, and she tromps about among the frog people while the voice-over woman deals with static electricity and the start of the actual music, nearly three minutes into this “Battlestar Gagatica” episode.

Gaga, somehow looking like Gwyneth Paltrow and Dusty Springfield had a love child, parades around in her underwear so we can see how thin you can be when people must obey all your commands. Gaga temporarily assumes the frog position with her acolytes, which causes them to come to life so they can join her in a dancing tribute to individuality and the ability to wear your panties in public.

While Gaga and the Frog People cavort, we get images of another Gaga who likes intricate hairstyles and flowing gowns. (And possibly the consumption of grapes. I’m really not sure WHAT she’s shoving into her mouth.) The Frog People like to stroke their crotches whilst gyrating to the beat, with such an energetic frenzy that we should probably look into this activity as an alternative to fossil fuel.

Gaga and her gold-chain-adorned panties keep dancing with the Frog People for quite some time, which allows us to study the latest dance moves, most of which involve waving your arms so that people can see your belly button. And your freshly-trimmed pubic hair. At least these people are neat and tidy.

Throughout all this… exuberance… we keep getting shots of Gaga as the Interplanetary Queen Who Wears A Stupid Veil. The Gaga Queen appears to have some personal animosity toward… well, everyone… so I’m not sure that she’ll win the Student Council election. Meanwhile, the Frog People continue to strut around with a complete lack of concern about what the Non-Frog People might think.

Cut to Gaga in a tuxedo, with her face done up like a skeleton and an odd patch of pinkish hair sprouting out of the side of her head. It seems that this Gaga has an equally-skeletal dance partner who is not all that interested in dancing with her. He prefers to just stand there and look studly despite his nose-ring and creepy pantyhose skull cap. While Skeletal Gaga tries to get a rise out of her undead, uninterested companion, we get shots of another Gaga bathing in a writhing sea of undulating bodies where everybody is invested in having sex with any protuberance whatsoever. (Are we suddenly at the Clinton mansion in Arkansas? Not sure.)

Skeletal Gaga grabs at her crotch while her bored friend grabs at nothing, then we cut to Frog People Gaga still stirring up the troops, and Orgy Gaga embracing one of her sex-mates with a beatific expression as if she’s only having random sex to help lost souls find their way to Jesus. Uh huh.

Then we go back to Lady Gaga’s head wearing that Martha Washington wig while people decompose around her, and we learn that this Gaga does have an actual body, only with zippers in places that really shouldn’t have zippers. Martha Gaga tries to do some dance moves, interspersed with Lisa Kudrow, I mean Frog-People Gaga finally losing all inhibitions (like THAT was a stretch) and dancing like there’s nothing in the known universes that can satisfy her crotchly needs.

And more of Martha/Zipper Gaga touching herself unjustly, and I decide that I don’t ever want to see another woman wear a powdered wig, especially when we transition to even more vulvic images of something else giving birth in a startlingly creamy manner. Quick flash of Frog Gaga’s booty, then more with the snatch-destroying violent births. Really, Gaga? Do you not understand that a big chunk of your fan base is not interested in what might come out of your cooter?

And now things go a little crazy. (As if they hadn’t already, just making a relative statement.) We head back to Frog Gaga and her barely-there undergarments, where people are rushing about in preparation for another random opportunity for Gaga to prove that she can find couture that does not adequately cover her ass. This Gaga prances around and makes love to the floor to show her personal dedication to the rights of skinny people to rule the world via music, song and liberation of clothing.

So we head to another line dance, where Gaga and the Frog People are sashaying about and waving their arms, but I’m still not seeing any plus-sized supermodels that have been allowed onto the set. I’m certainly not one to limit an artist’s vision, but really G-Girl, could you possibly put someone in your videos that has actually eaten pizza in their lives?

Gaga responds by making a self-masturbation gesture with her legs spread wide.

Okay, then. Maybe not.

We’re back at that massive orgy, where pretty people are doing things near Gaga’s silken thighs while at the same time appearing to be clawing their way out of the earth, perhaps in search of blood-infused people who haven’t seen “True Blood” and don’t understand that just because somebody talks to you in an alley, you shouldn’t proffer your neck as a potential appetizer. Unless, of course, you’re really tired of that daylight thing.

The Frog People are still line-dancing, although at this point it’s really a matter of jazz hands and bared nipples. Next up is a montage of Frog Gaga being really exuberant with her arms despite the fact that her gold panty necklace is banging against her thighs and surely making dancing a bit difficult. Frog Gaga compensates by thrusting her arms about in a manner similar to Joan Jett from back in the day when she still loved rock and roll and apparently hadn’t yet dined at the Lesbos Café.

Back to Skeletal Gaga and her uninterested mate. She whips her hair around enough that Bored Supermodel allows Gaga to nuzzle him a bit so she‘ll quit trying to take flight. Then we have a quick shot of Skeletal Gaga rolling her eyes back in her head, and the image is so severe that I’m not sure I can ever listen to “Bad Romance” again.

Now we start jumping around all over the place, with flashes of Frog Gaga, Skeletal Gaga, Brazilian-Wax Gaga, and I-Am-Too-Scared-To-Party-With-HER Gaga. Oh, and don’t forget Martha Gaga and Massive-Orgy-With-Wet-Paint Gaga. All the colors of the gagabow.

We wind things down with Skeletal Gaga in an intimate shot, looking like two butch guys battling for supremacy (got a little hot with THAT mess), and a new Gaga or… who knows who she is… prancing around with day-glo gloves in an alley. Quick shot of a crying Gaga with a severe haircut, and then we return to the pink triangle, now inverted. Something’s on fire, who knows what, then we have a final image of Skeletal Gaga blowing a bubble with her gum.

Holy cow.



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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga and Beyonce - “Telephone”

Note: This is the explicit version. You have been warned. If unseemliness makes you itchy, perhaps you should just have a nice cup of tea instead. And, by the way, this video is LONG, as in 9 minutes. Brace yourselves.

Wow, looky here, seems we’re going to have us a big-ass production. We’ve got opening titles, a director, co-stars, and even the faint whiff of over-priced popcorn and annoying people who insist on yelling out “What do you think is going to happen next?” during the really dramatic parts. Somebody spent some money on this thing. Should be a good time. Here we go…

We start out with an opening shot of a chain link fence, topped with that razor wire that will slice off a limb in a mere second, so I’m thinking this is not going to be a laugh-filled comedy where people meet cute and have pretty hair. The credits roll as we see scenes indicating that this is one serious prison. Cut to inside the facility, where Lady Gaga is being escorted onto a cellblock by two of the harder-living Pussycat Dolls. (You’d think somebody would have mentioned to them that they should probably button their shirts. Seems a little unofficial to me.)

Then again, we’re not really supposed to be looking at the Dolls. We’re intended to focus on Lady Gaga, wearing an interplanetary outfit that would make her look like a zebra if she was standing on an African plain. The trio struts down the cellblock while we learn that the inmates in this place are all female and apparently are so horny that if a small earthquake tremor hit the building, the power of the unleashed orgasms would alter the alignment of the planet.

Gaga doesn’t care about the musk in the air. She’s more concerned with taking off her designer shades and handing them to one of the Dolls. Then the Dolls drag Gaga into one of the cells, and proceed to rip off her clothes. (Ever notice that Lady has no problem being naked in a public setting? I wonder if she went to private schools. They learn different things there.) Then the Dolls leave, probably so they can go learn some new dance moves. Their departure inspires Gaga to climb the bars so we can see she has electrical tape on her nipples and that there seems to be a pixilation issue with her crotch.

Now we’re in the “Exercise Yard” of the Big House, because everyone knows that physical fitness is the number one priority of people who have to shower in monitored groups. Lots of very muscular women are fiddling with barbells and hormone supplements. And here comes Gaga in another startling outfit, this one requiring that heavy chains be draped across her body and that her sunglasses be accessorized with burning cigarettes. (Can you imagine the pissed-off prop person that had to keep that thing going through hundreds of takes?)

The other prisoners stare at Gaga. Gaga stares at the other prisoners. This doesn’t resolve anything, so Lady sashays her way to a convenient table so that one of the butcher ladies can sniff Gaga’s hair. I guess Gaga used just the right conditioner, because this leads to a lusty kiss and requires that somebody’s hand (it’s unclear because there’s a tremendous amount of fondling and pawing) snatch up Lady Gaga’s cell phone. (Because everyone gets issued those in Alcatraz, right?)

Cut back inside the prison, where we seem to find ourselves in the midst of an odd daycare where the kids are really big. And felons. Now Gaga is sporting a hairstyle that involves Diet Coke cans and Gucci sunglasses. (Where the hell is the bitch getting all these accessories?) We watch an altercation of some kind, which involves lots of violent slapping and name-calling. (The Pussycat Doll guards don’t even bother to stop the ruckus, because they’re saving their strength to straddle stripper poles at a performance they have later that night.)

The intercom system announces that Lady Gaga has a phone call, so she and her studded-leather panties march over and pick up a receiver on the wall. Instead of having a normal conversation or confirming her pizza order, Gaga starts singing the song. (About damn time. We’re 3 minutes into this thing.) We don’t get to hear what the person on the other end of the line might have to say, but whatever it is, it causes Lady to hang up and break into a dance routine. One that involves Gaga tugging on her jacket and making Evil Hello Kitty scratching movements in the air. (I guess this is another private school thing that I don’t understand.)

Now we’re back on the cellblock, where everybody is wearing just bras and panties as Gaga tromps around and wails the song. (I understand that prisons can be pretty cold, so you know these thong-clad people are suffering for their art.) This goes on for a bit, with the strutting felons really getting down with their bad selves, and showing that some girls still firmly believe in the power of peroxide. (And where did they find so many pairs of hooker boots?)

Brief shots of Lady Gaga prancing around wearing nothing but “crime scene” tape. That girl can wear anything. She also likes to assume positions that prominently feature her pubis. She really loves that thing.

Next we have Lady Gaga apparently being bailed out by some unknown person. (A lawyer from Interscope Records?) She’s sporting an aerodynamic hat that could probably make it to Jupiter with the right wind thrust. She also performs some odd dance steps that one really shouldn’t do if they want to appear of sound mind and body. She sashays outside and hops into a tricked-out pickup being driven by…

Beyonce. Wearing black lipstick, an outdated hairdo, and no bra. Beyonce berates Gaga for her badness, munching on what might be a burrito or maybe the latest Billboard Hot 100 Chart. Then Beyonce offers a bite to Gaga, who takes a voracious rip at the thing, then they peel out and drive off to… I have no idea.

They roll down the highway, having a strange conversation about cows, burgers, cracked mirrors, and Lady’s ability to use the F-word freely. They seem to be plotting something, but it’s not clear if it’s a robbery, a drug deal, a murder or a Brazilian wax. Then Beyonce fiddles with the radio, and starts belting out her part of the song. (Lady Gaga, still wearing that stupid hat that takes up half the car, whips out a Polaroid and takes pictures of Beyonce and her lips singing the song.) I’m not sure what kind of issue Beyonce is having while singing and driving, but it requires that she lean over a lot so we can see that she is still not wearing a bra.

They roll up to some roadside diner, where we see a modified cowgirl wearing tight yellow leather making her way to a table, where some guy is sitting acting all street. Wait, the cowgirl is actually Beyonce, so I’m confused because I really don’t know when she had time to change her outfit. Home Boy, for no apparent reason, decides to wander around the diner and either rough up people or slap their butts. This allows Beyonce time to pour some poison into Home Boy’s coffee. It’s probably not a good day for Home Boy, which is fine, because he’s wearing a cap that is too old school for cool. It’s understood in Gaga videos that if your headwear can’t compete with the Lady, you have to die.

Home Boy, finished with his random molesting of the ladies, heads back to the table and swigs his tainted coffee. He starts to cough, and we cut to Lady Gaga somewhere else that looks like an industrial kitchen, with lots of pretentious queens flitting about and dancing with rolls of French bread. Oh wait, now Beyonce is in a skanky, badly-decorated hotel room, singing while wearing a jacket that she stole from Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation tour. The obvious theft doesn’t stop her from throwing her legs wide apart while sitting on the bed. Some things just come naturally no matter what you’re wearing.

Now we have some jump cutting, with shots of Gaga and the Queens making sandwiches, Beyonce apparently being given shock treatments while standing up, and a line dance in the industrial kitchen involving the waving of cookware implements and some breast touching (along with some choreographed hand-clapping). We don’t learn anything from this, but it’s fun and energetic, and Gaga gets to eat one of those sandwiches, so she should be able to keep her energy up regardless of what they stick on her head in her next scene.

Back to the diner, where Home Boy is still coughing. (I guess they didn’t need to use a fast-acting poison, since this video is tremendously long.) Whoops, now we’re in the industrial kitchen, where Gaga has decided to do an impromptu cooking show on how to use poison to kill people who piss you off or don’t understand the concept of turn signals. Then she snaps up one of her creations and marches out into… the diner. Okay, so this industrial kitchen was really the kitchen diner, which makes perfect sense, because all roadside diners have kitchens large enough to hold a chorus line of Desperate Housequeens with reality issues.

Gaga marches up to the table where Home Boy and Beyonce are pretending to like each other, and she slaps down her death-dealing patty melt or whatever it is. We watch while HB pours syrup on the entrée, gobbles it up, and starts choking again. (You know, it’s really time for Home Boy to head to the Pearly Gates, because they’ve been trying to kill him for a while now.) He finally kicks it, which allows Beyonce to also utter the F-word and then cover her mouth with fingernails painted with the American flag. (What the hell? And seriously, B-Girl. What’s up with those bangs?)

Now we see lots of people snarfing up their meals and proceeding to choke, while Lady Gaga strikes dramatic poses involving finger-pointing and close-ups of her vibrantly yellow wig. With all this sudden death, one would naturally resort to a line dance to move the story along.

So they do. Gaga is now in a hippie outfit and Beyonce is in a leftover costume from “Wonder Woman” while the surviving people in the diner bust some fancy moves while stepping over the sprawled bodies of the people who ate the Tuna Surprise. As the dancers shimmy and shake, we get shots of all the dead people, including a dog, so I’m thinking PETA is not going to endorse this video. As if Gaga cares whether they do or not.

While this very extended dance extravaganza is going on, we see more shots of Beyonce receiving shock treatments in that tacky hotel room. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to think about that, but based on the wide-open eyes of Beyonce while she vibrates, it looks like we might have a replacement for Botox therapy. (“Hello? I’d like to remove some wrinkles using a live electrical wire. Yes, I’ll hold.”)

We see the tricked-out truck peeling away from the diner, interspersed with shots of Gaga wearing something inspired by leopards and/or people who like to wear fur-covered hats. She appears to be standing in front of the tricked-out truck while prancing around in this latest outfit, so I’m going to assume that they are at a rest stop where they play disco music while you pee. This rest stop is probably not in Oklahoma.

Leopard Gaga dances for quite some time, long enough that we get to see her waving her fanny a number of times, so we’ll also have to assume that there’s not a “no loitering” policy at this rest stop. I don’t see any truck drivers, though, which is odd. But maybe Gaga has killed everybody here as well. (“Would you like a sample of my sushi?”)

Now we’re watching a “breaking news” story about a mass homicide at the diner. Cut to Lady and Beyonce dancing behind their “Pussy Wagon” truck, and wearing outfits that drug-taking nuns might choose. Then the girls hop back into the truck, have a conversation about going “far, far away from here” and “never coming back”. Then they clasp hands in a nice “Thelma and Louise” tribute, but they don’t actually drive off a cliff.

Because that already happened about eight and a half minutes ago.

Cheers.

　

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Backup Dancers From Hell: Brandon Flowers - “Crossfire”

We start out rather slowly, with a close-up on Brandon’s face. He seems to be studying something on the ground off to the side, but no explanation is given. The camera lingers for quite some time, apparently so we can be sure to notice that Brandon has been in some type of physical violence and his cute little nose has been damaged in some way. Poor thing. The life of a rockstar is really, really hard.

Okay, Brandon, you’ve been staring at whatever for too long now. Do something.

Oh, he finally does, warbling the opening part of the song. This triggers the camera person to start walking backwards, so we can see that Brandon is wearing an outfit circa “Bonnie and Clyde”. We can also see something to the left of Brandon that looks like Lady Gaga left her props out after an especially exuberant performance at the American Music Awards. Something involving bondage and swarthy characters running amuck.

Brandon keeps singing, while the camera person keeps walking backwards, apparently into another region of the country. Suddenly, for no discernible reason, some guy holding something flaming flies through the air and lands on Gaga’s leftover props. I really have no idea what that might mean.

Then some woman comes marching into the… warehouse?… where Brandon is warbling. At first, it looks like Sarah Michelle Gellar, so I’m all ready with some Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Joss Whedon comebacks. But as she gets closer and stares at possibly wimpy Brandon, I see that she’s way too tall to be the Girl from Sunnydale. As Brandon gazes at his savior, she guts some Ninja guy running in the door behind her without even checking to see who it is. She hawt, and Brandon smiles.

Next up, Brandon is somewhere else, once again held captive and standing in front of what looks like mattress springs. He’s a little more tattered than before, so I guess it hasn’t been a really happy time for him. There’s more Ninja people running about, and one of them rudely throws a bucket of water on Brandon. He just puts up with it and waits to be rescued. Not really sure that Brandon is coming off in a good light here.

No matter, he keeps singing, because after all this is HIS video. The Ninjas prance around and prepare implements of considerable pain while Brandon remains framed by the mattress springs. Suddenly, something like tear gas erupts, causing the Ninjas to assume slightly-stupid confrontational poses and brace themselves for what might be coming their way.

And that would be Too-Tall Buffy, coming down an elevator shaft without using the elevator and hanging upside down with her hair in a cute little ponytail. In a surprising example of random Animal Planet violence, she whips out these star disk things and nails the two Ninjas in the forehead. They collapse to the floor, because really, who’s going to argue with accurately-thrown metal projectiles? Big Buffy drops out of the elevator shaft and stares at Brandon, with him gazing back like “my bad, got trussed up again in a discount mattress warehouse. Did you pick up a pizza on your way here? Kinda hungry.”

Big Buffy doesn’t really say anything, but she does manage to take out another Ninja with a strategically-placed elbow thrust. Brandon smirks like he can’t wait to have the same thing happen to him when both of them are naked. I’m thinking somebody has some sexual fixation issues that Oprah won’t even dare talk about.

Now we have Big Buffy driving some truck, and still able to annihilate random Ninja

people springing out of the shadows, without Buffy even breaking a sweat. Buffy is really starting to scare me. I mean, it’s nice that she’s got Brandon’s back, but seriously, does she have to kill everyone?

Apparently she does. More deadly mayhem transpires as Big Buffy single-handedly eliminates everyone wearing a hooded ski mask. Once the thugs are immobilized, Big Buffy marches into yet another warehouse and whips out a giant sword thing. Maybe she’ll use it to cut the umbilical cord between Brandon and his Mommy. Let’s hope so, because Brandon clearly has some functional issues. What the hell is he doing that keeps pissing off the Ninjas?

Big Buffy kills one remaining Ninja who apparently was watching “Seinfeld” in another room, and didn’t understand this his black-clad brothers might need some assistance. She then marches into another part of the warehouse where Brandon is hanging upside down and waiting to be rescued once again. She stares at him while he makes a smirky face, along the lines of “good to see you again, thanks for saving me once more from homicidal, attention-deficit Ninja-fixated people. I’m worthless in physical situations wherein I need to prevent people from killing me.”

Cut to Brandon and Big Buffy in her startlingly macho pickup, headed off to who knows where. Buffy gives him a look like “dude, can you not do anything?” Brandon and his battered face indicate that the answer is a resounding, non-lethal “no”. Buffy sighs, driving the truck with one hand while using the other to pull Brandon closer to her so he can whimper in her armpit.

Fade to black.

Really?

Seriously, the song is great. But the message of the video? I have no idea. Something about do whatever the hell you want, even if it pisses off Ninjas, because blonde-haired women are waiting right around the corner and will rescue you at the precise moment when your failure to be all that you can be becomes most evident…

　

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Backup Dancers from Hell: Chris Brown featuring Tyga & Kevin McCall - “Deuces”

Well, the first scene has some big-ass titles informing us that “Collin Tilley Presents”, like this is going to be some fancy foreign movie where bitchy people make each other suffer about past indiscretions. But we know that’s not the case, because it’s a 4-minute music video, with guest rap stars, so there’s not going to be any intricate story or clever dialogue. Then we see Chris Brown’s name in even bigger-ass letters, and I get it. He wants us to think of him as an artist and not as someone who would get angry at Rihanna for changing her hair color yet another time.

We’ll see.

While the credits are still rolling (yes, there are more of them), we are shown three important plot points. One is that there is a woman walking along in one of those concrete waterway things, like where they did the car race in “Grease”. (I’m fully expecting Rizzo to walk in front of the camera, babbling about a defective typewriter.) She looks sad and is walking very slowly, so maybe she needs to speak to her doctor about her mood stabilizers. Other than that, we don’t know much about her, except that she’s wearing a flimsy shirt that is kind of pointless. We can already clearly see what she has to offer.

We also have three guys (I’m assuming this would be Chris, Tyga and Kevin) hanging out all street-like. We can’t tell if they’re also sad, or if they’re just bored, but all of them are staring at the ground like they just learned that they didn’t get any Grammy nominations this year. The final plotline centers around just Chris. He’s standing on the sloping wall of the concrete gulch and practicing “Karate Kid” moves.

Chris starts with the singing, sitting on a car and doing hand movements that remind me of my scary fourth-grade music teacher that always smelled like old baby powder. But he’s also singing in between high-kicks on the sloping wall, and the Sad Woman is still walking slowly. We start cutting between the three so we can understand that everybody is still doing what they’re supposed to do, and we shouldn’t get anxious about that.

Sudden close-up shot of Sad Woman’s eyes, then another shot of her smelling her hair. Maybe her sadness is coming from the fact that her apricot shampoo didn’t deliver on its promise to smell fruity and fresh. Then she turns and looks behind her, concerned about something, which is kind of confusing. If she’s trying to get away from somebody, shouldn’t she be running instead of just shuffling along and wondering where Olivia Newton-John was sitting during the car race?

Back to Chris and his boys, where we learn that every time somebody sings “deuces” in the song, they all hold two fingers up to the sky. Well, that’s really original. Was somebody actually paid to come up with that?

Oh look, now Chris is by himself in some tunnel, with the bright sky at the other end of the tunnel making a cute little box around Chris so that he appears in silhouette. He starts doing more of the odd poses, like he’s training for a Lady Gaga cover shoot.

And we go like this for a while, cutting between the guys sitting on the car, waiting for anything at all to happen in their lives, Chris in the tunnel channeling Liza Minnelli, and Sad Woman trudging through the gulch, not really getting anywhere. (Why does she insist on walking right where the thin layer of water is flowing, instead of on the 97% of the concrete that is DRY. Does she think there’s a prize at the end of this trail? Poor thing.)

It’s time for Tyga to do his solo, and he’s conveniently moved to another location so we can understand that someone else is singing now. He’s sitting on one of those concrete support beams, and he also likes to move his hands. This time I’m reminded of my Grandpa who would make those same motions before he lost his Italian temper and the Thanksgiving turkey would go flying throw the air, leaving a trail of cornbread stuffing as everybody dove under the table. Again.

Wow, Tyga sure has a long solo. (We get shots of Chris standing off in the background, reminding us that this is HIS video, people, don’t forget it. We also get more clips of Sad Woman on her mysterious journey, but I’m starting to not care if she ever gets where she’s going.)

Well, it seems we have a new development, as we start seeing snippets of the three guys walking down an alley while some hoopty car is bouncing along behind them. The boys seem to be having a lot more fun with this bit, strutting along, waving their arms, and grabbing their crotches. In fact, they almost crack a smile, which is forbidden if you want to retain your street cred, so we’re in dangerous territory here.

Tyga finally finishes up, and the film editor really ramps up the jump-cutting. We’re leaping all over the place in a frenzy, with the jumping only slowing down when Sad Woman’s breasts are in attendance. (And with the way Chris is bouncing off the walls in the tunnel, it’s safe to assume that he had Mexican for lunch, with extra jalapeños. What else would make a grown man jump in the air and do the splits like that?)

And here comes Kevin with his guest rap, and he’s really invested in that “holding up two fingers” thing, doing this at least 400 times during his cameo, shoving his fingers at us like one of the Three Stooges got lost in the San Fernando Valley. He seems to be really angry. Maybe because a certain woman’s appendages are getting more screen time than he is? And she’s not even singing. Or sure of where she’s at.

Shot of Sad Woman just standing there in the gulch, not even moving at all. (Well, to be fair, silicone never really stops moving, but that’s a minor technicality. Wait, maybe that’s why she’s following the water. She sprung a leak and is trying to figure out where it happened.)

Kevin goes on for a long time as well. In fact, between Kevin and Tyga, they’ve basically carried the whole song. Chris only warbled a few lines at the beginning, and then he ran off to play in that tunnel, whispering “deuces” in the background every once in a while. Maybe Chris just didn’t have enough time to learn all the lyrics, busy with that community service business like he was. Who knows.

Whoops, I just lied. Chris comes back and bellows some more, as we see shots of him ripping off his shirt in the tunnel and apparently tearing the thing into rags. (Did he pick up some fashion tips from Rihanna?) I guess the shock of wind on his nipples has a strong effect on him, because he suddenly does a back flip for no other apparent reason.

And that’s really it. As the song winds down, we jump-cut some more, with the guys and the gulch and the hoopty and Chris auditioning for Cirque du Soleil in that tunnel. Sadly, Woman With Breasts never makes it very far, still in the concrete riverbed, splashing endlessly along her trail of cosmetic tears and starting to lose her balance…

　

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Backup Dancers From Hell: Lady Gaga - “Alejandro”

Preliminary bit wherein I absolve myself of any blame for what’s about to follow: We’re talking Lady Gaga, here, not Charlotte Church, so things in this video get a bit eye-opening. It’s also a very long video, so Lady Gaga can throw in lots of artsy stuff that may not make sense but is certainly interesting. So, if you’re not a fan of The Lady or can’t sit still for longer than four minutes you might want to skip this one and go check the lint in the dryer.

And in the spirit of this high-end soft-porn, my commentary might get a little off the tracks and take a detour through Smut Town. These things can happen when you watch tele-films created by a woman who has recently bellowed about her yearning for Disco Stick transportation. You have been officially warned.

Still with? Great. Here we go…

We start out with a giant “GAGA” logo, because she may not want us to call her name, but she damn sure wants us to remember it. Then we immediately cut to a very tired military-type man who is wearing little more than fishnet stockings as he lounges on some dreary patio. Yes, it took Lady Gaga exactly two seconds to get twisted.

Then the camera starts panning around, and we learn that there’s LOTS of tired military people sitting around at what might be a bar where no one is very happy. This could be because there aren’t any drinks on the table and the music hasn’t started yet. Who knows. We still have over 8 minutes of video for the producers to explain all this.

Cut to some shadowy figures standing on what looks like a ramp that probably leads to an underground laboratory where anti-social scientists named Hans conduct experiments involving plutonium and death. These figures are apparently practicing a dance routine where the theme appears to be stomping while carrying odd symbols and looking angry.

Oh good, they turned the lights up a bit and we can see that the dancers are wearing jock straps that appear to be vaguely Sumo-wrestling in nature. (So far they haven’t spent a lot of money on the costume budget for this production.) The dancers all have the same bowl-cut hairdo for some reason, probably because Lady Gaga was going for that “we might be poor but we have rhythm” look. The dancers march their way down the ramp so that Hans can begin dissecting them.

Finally, we have a close-up of Gaga herself, sporting a hairstyle that has been inspired by the handles on wicker baskets. She’s looking through some very funky binoculars, trying to determine where the sad music is coming from that has started to play. This is followed by someone carrying what looks like a human heart on a black satin pillow, and then a shot of Lady Gaga messing around with her mouth. Maybe she’s got some spinach caught in her teeth.

Quick scene, possibly back at the boring bar where they still aren’t serving any drinks. It’s snowing outside, and people are sad, or at least lethargic, so somebody probably died. Then we’re out IN the snow, and yep, there’s been a death. People are carrying a casket, while Lady leads the way, lugging that heart on a pillow while violins play. Did Ingmar Bergman direct this?

We switch to a man wearing leather panties and holding a gun in his crotch. It’s a pretty gun. He’s also wearing a strange helmet that doesn’t seem to fit, and there are very large holes in the wall behind him, which is letting in some of the snow. Perhaps he should call Maintenance.

Gaga again, with a severe blonde hairdo that is not kind to her facial bone structure. She might be wearing a modified veil, so perhaps she is familiar with the person in the casket, but this doesn’t explain why she’s acting like Eva Peron on some balcony, when the people still liked her, and before they made that Broadway show and then the movie where we finally learned that Madonna can actually act as well as get pregnant via a personal trainer.

Back to Wicker Basket Gaga, still screwing around with the pointless binoculars while she smokes a cigarette, watching the jock-strap dancers through a conveniently large but still gloomy window. The dancers apparently learned some new moves while underground, so there’s less stomping, but we still don’t know what happened to the rest of their clothes.

Oh look, Lady Gaga is able to flip just one lens of the binoculars away from her tragically-pale face so we can watch her not emote while she sings. THAT’S why she wanted those things. She doesn’t need to see anything, she just wanted a cool accessory that she can manipulate to the beat of the song. So she does that for a while as the dancers continue showing off their new moves, including the ability to arch their backs so that their crotches bulge even more.

And those dancers have some stamina, because they frolic around for quite some time. They seem to be really fond of doing this group-hug thing where they spin in a circle while war-like scenes flash on a screen that some crew person has helpfully erected in the back of the soundstage. Then the dancers pair off and things get a little heated, with some grunting and such, and for a moment I don’t care if Alejandro ever shows up.

Now we have Lady Gaga in a red-leather nun’s habit, lying on a bed and being overly affectionate with her rosary. This very personal time is inter-cut with scenes of possibly some barracks, where people are either having naughty relations or emotional breakdowns while they writhe on metal cots. Whips and high heels are major design elements, along with some line dancing where Gaga joins the Jock-Ettes for some synchronized choreography. (And who spread the kitty litter all over the floor?)

This goes on for a while as well (hey, they’ve still got 4 minutes to kill), with lots more simulated and symbolic sexual slap and tickle, where it’s clear that gender and manners are completely unimportant. (They definitely won’t be showing clips of this part on the morning talk shows. Well, maybe on the FX channel.)

Things finally cool off a bit, with the Jock-Ettes doing some comparatively mundane hand movements, lying on their backs while Lady Gaga stands in the middle, wearing something Greta Garbo would wear just before she took her own life in a tragic 1930’s movie.

Scratch that. We get a closer look at the outfit, and Greta would never go near this, even after she became a recluse and started drinking. This close-up comes courtesy of the Bowl-Cut Boys, as they lift a spread-eagled Lady Gaga over their heads, and we learn that there’s an inverted red cross in Gaga’s business section. The boys continually thrust Gaga at the overheard camera to Make. Sure. We. Can. SEE IT. This wholesome scene is followed by one where Gaga crams her beloved rosary into her mouth.

At this point, I’m sure the switchboard at the Vatican is very busy. I’m assuming that Lady Gaga won’t be getting a contract with Pepsi.

Back to the spread-eagled Gaga in case you missed anything the first time.

Suddenly we have Lady Gaga in another outfit, this one with shades of Liza Minnelli in “Cabaret”, minus Joel Grey or any of the startling eye shadow. She does a few solo dance steps, and then the Jock-Ettes are back, parading down the stage in pairs, wearing leather jackets while Lady goes some more dance steps that make it clear she’s hoping for a remake of “Saturday Night Fever”.

Then Gaga and the Jock-Ettes switch over to the laboratory ramp, where Lady has decided to one-up Madonna by wearing a bustier made out of machine guns. She’s very proud of this piece of couture, fondling the gun barrels as she shimmies. Meanwhile, the Jock-Ettes twirl, leap and touch their faces dramatically.

Now we’re jump-cutting all over hell, with brief bits of everything we’ve seen, mixed in with new material that fully express Lady Gaga’s art. (Or possibly the fact that the art director didn’t refill his prescription.) The metal cots are still filled with angsty couples, the Jock-Ettes are still flinging Gaga through the air, and the amorous nun is lying on her bed, belching contentedly after eating the rosary.

Wait a minute. We are suddenly getting shots of some non-bowl-cut guy standing around, looking forlorn but still trendy in his leather outfit. Is that Alejandro? Dude, where have you been. That bitch has been calling your name for the last half hour.

More jump-cutting and sexual hi-jinks involving uncomfortable positions. This time through there’s some business with the Jock-Ettes shoving Sacrilege Gaga all over the playground. (I guess they found out she had a better dressing room.) To get back at them, Lady Gaga straddles one of them, and then rips off her top. The chorus boys do a dismal job of pretending to be interested in her wares, so they just go back to dancing.

Final shot has Gun-Crotch Boy and Nun-Jandro on a bed, with wires coming down making them look like marionettes. Oh? So is Lady Gaga saying that she didn’t have all this sex of her own free will, that other people were making her do it? Uh huh. The camera zooms in on the face of Nun Gaga and the film begins to melt.

That was probably the Pope doing that. Just guessing.

　

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