Michel Gondry's humour is often overshadowed by his veritable ingenuity and finesse behind the camera. His lo-fi aesthetic and technical wizardry have made him the most well-respected and influential director in the history of music video. Even when we applaud the playful absurdity of his images, we tend to dissect their meaning on an emotional level before we discuss the importance of comedy in his work.
Of course Gondry wouldn't have it any other way, as the power of his drama is indebted to the laughs that accompany it (though not always vice versa). In his video for Paul McCartney's "Dance Tonight," he hires Mackenzie Crook of BBC's legendary comedy The Office to inject a distinctly British sensibility into the set-up (afternoon tea and all). As the piece grows increasingly chaotic and visually arresting, we are whisked away into a fantasy that seems as lightweight as the lyrics of the song.
Yet if we peel back the layers of pop shine, McCartney's insistence on making "everybody dance" in the current climate may be aimed at defusing conflict rather than simply having a good time. He's in a recollective mood, enjoying the company of spirits on a secluded farm in the English countryside - rather than the high-speed city from which the postman has arrived.
The postman's is the first voice we hear though, and he is in fact the protagonist of the story. As the final shot suggests, he may have taken a fatal turn on route to delivering mail down that country road. But when the soul of McCartney's mandolin rises up from its empty box, it's no coincedence she momentarily appears to have wings (it also helps that she is played rather angelically by Natalie Portman). Just as obsessive Beatles fans dream every night, McCartney seems to open the door to the after life (though apparently the real party is down in the basement). More than anything it's an introduction to a world that inverts stale expectations - where music can carry you wherever you like.
We've strayed from our focus on humour, though not as far as you'd think. It's impossible to define, but comedy - in both the classical and popular sense - has much to do with misunderstanding. The climax of this video, in which many the personified objects return to the "wrong" place in the house, is both silly and enlightening. In many ways Gondry has an affinity with Kafka or Camus (as does frequent screenwriting buddy Charlie Kaufman) - a love for all things absurd. Life doesn't fall perfectly into place like knives in a kitchen drawer or books on a shelf, it's a jumbled house of mirrors* where anything goes. Through this dance at Macca's house the postal worker finally expresses himself and escapes the sterility of his previous life - perhaps too late for him, but not for us.
The final installment of our week long odyssey through Ziggy's labyrinth...
photo by mark seliger
Bowie found a nice comfort zone towards the end of the last decade, and even if he may never reach the heights of his former glory - one imagines he isn't trying to anyway. Like Dylan in the movies he don't look back, and - for the most part - is always on the cusp of what's next. Though critical and public acclaim have followed him throughout his career, the artist never put on a pretty face simply for the enjoyment of his audience. Bowie has explored everything from jungle beats to techno grunge in recent years because he has to. Constant transformation is exactly what his art is about. He presents himself as the undefinable shape-shifter, so that we might realize the futility of attempting to judge or narrowly define any human being.
Make sure and check out Part 1, 2 and 3 of our feature.
There's obvious irony in Bowie naming his album Earthling after a lifetime of reaching for the stars. Yet the artist wasn't any less inclined to get carried away to mars in 1997, even if he did seem increasingly frustrated with the stagnation around him. Director Floria Sigismondi perfectly captures this sense of stifled dreams in her video for "Little Wonder." When Bowie desperately flaps his arms staring up at the sky - he stands inside a grimy bath tub.
Sigismondi, who just won the MVPA for 2006 video of the year, matches the dub energy of the beat with trippy images of urban chaos. Bowie gives a manic performance, leering and sneering at the camera as he jumps between the edges of the frame. At the same time a man who resembles a young Bowie trudges through the streets collecting the world's garbage, keeping them in his briefcase of treasures. There's a sense that his fascination with eyeballs and severed heads is drug-induced, but it also speaks to Bowie's embrace of the ugly and absurd which became an important theme in his 90's videos.
There's a puppeteer theme than runs through this video, but what is really controlling Bowie is not a force from above - it's something lurking behind. He may push forward with his music, but his lyrics are wrapped in nostalgia. It isn't just "dancing under the lamplight" or "sliding naked and new" which he misses so dearly, but the naivety of his world view before he was "older than movies." He looks at the TV screen and suddenly wonders if there is any point in performing when life itself seems like a stage show, "is it all just human disguise?". Without the power of his masks, Bowie suddenly feels dead inside - memorably represented here by his faceless anguish.
Bowie's enchantment with Asian culture continues as this video is infused with images of Tibetan faces and flags as well as a vague vibe of Buddhist philosophy. The lyrics of the song seem to suggest a moment of profundity following a violent realization - personified by the angry notes of the song. The directors hone in on the line "see nothing at all," with Bowie's wide open eye slowly becoming jumpy and paranoid. The lyric is followed by a series of visual observations, suggesting that Bowie is actually seeing more than he ever has before.
Also, is there any doubt this video directly inspiredZoolander - on a number of levels?
Co-Written by Brian Eno, this song is less about hatred of a certain nation and more universally critical of dominating cultures of any kind. Bowie uses the two most visible symbols of the modern monopolization of culture - Christianity and America - to represent his fears and frustration. The directors also make reference to Scorsese's Taxi Driver with both Trent Reznor's character and the "hand gun" motions everyone seems to make. Like De Niro's Travis Bickle, Bowie's character here is slightly delusional. They are both a product of their society, but Bowie's paranoia is less about loneliness and more rooted in the depressing truths of American culture's omnipresence in the world.
The projected face on a masked Bowie is effective - if a bit obvious - in conveying a similar idea to those explored in the earlier Earthling videos. Bowie is face to face with his old age and realizes that 15 minutes of fame (a panning shot of his costume rack reminds us of his success) doesn't guarantee even 15 minutes of happiness. The realities of the superstar dream are further emphasized by the highly visible presence of the camera - which represents both the paparazzi and the transparency of performance.
The themes of old age and waning talent which had briefly made appearances in the past, found themselves in the spotlight on 'hours...'. Once again the mirror is used as a reference point for Bowie's thoughts on his age and changing physical appearance, but there is much more going on in this Walter Stern directed video than simple yearning for youth. With a few simple glances Bowie tackles issues of lust, body image and fidelity.
According to the always accurate Wikipedia, there is an old poem that predicts the fate of children based on the day in the week on which they were born. Bowie was born on a Wednesday, and is destined for "woe," but as he says in the song he is really a child of Thursday - one who has "far to go." What let's the singer avoid the pangs of looking back and stay forward-looking is supposedly the lovely woman next to him.
Yet as he thinks back to a past lover, he suddenly feels guilty for lusting after his memories. It's clear from the opening moments - when Bowie struggles to find his old voice - that the man is wishing for something that is gone. Standing in front of that mirror he wonders if perhaps his current love simply reminds him of another younger woman - or youth in general. It's a secret bit of doubt he harbors in his heart, and only shows when she's not looking. But the dark shadows of the room suggest these thoughts can't stay hidden for long.
In "Ashes to Ashes" Bowie is strapped to an electric chair in his kitchen, caged by nightmares of domesticity. But a more seasoned and wiser man sits solemnly at his dinner table in this video. Bowie is lost in self-pitying thoughts of youth once again, and Stern surrounds him in a cold metallic environment to reflect his mood. Yet the singer slowly realizes that one can reach zero gravity without a spaceship or bright red hair - it's simply a state of mind.
It's always surprising that there aren't more videos for Heathen, which really marked a return to form for Bowie in terms of critical and popular success. This short promo features more references to space travel, suppressed emotion and lost youth - with the conduit to freedom being music. It also features Pete Townshend on guitar.
There is also a video for "Everyone Says Hi" from the album, but we once again were unable to locate it online.
A combination of "Let's Dance"'s social conscious and the environmental concern of "When the Wind Blows," this strange video is fairly dark under its sunny covers. Many of the shots focus on the momentarily changing expressions on the faces of people, which suggests the fleeting nature of our emotions. But the eventual effect of our shortsightedness could be far more dangerous - with the fallen spaceship being only the tip of the melting iceberg.
Moving forward through the long, long video career of Ziggy Stardust...
Entering the third decade of his life in entertainment, Bowie didn't slow down a bit - pushing his fame and creativity past the brink of super stardom. While some may argue his best days were already behind him, as the 80's moved forward the artist was in the midst of his most succesful reinvention yet. Releasing his best-selling album, working in movies and collaborating with top artists was just part of the ever-changing game for David Bowie.
In case you missed it, here's Part 1 of the feature. Part 2 is split into two segments, the second of which will be posted below tomorrow.
Let's Dance was Bowie's most internationally succesful album to date, and the video for "Cat People" finds the artist at the peak of his popularity. The stage show is grandly orchestrated and exuberantly executed, but the song - much like the entire second half of the album - is only mildly thrilling. Thus, as far as performance videos go, it's one of Bowie's weaker efforts.
Bowie plays both the villain and hero in this confrontational video set in the Australian outback. Director David Mallet (who at this point has linked his entire career with that of Bowie) tells a story of discrimination and resistance within a still largely class-based modern society. The white upper class characters (one of whom is played by Bowie) look down upon the less wealthy workers (all of whom have darker skin) and reinforce their inferior status in the community. Yet with a little inspiration from Bowie the musician, the forgotten folks don't let the perception of others control their self-image for very long.
Mallet depicts the initial psychological effects of social snobbery with a few potent dream sequences. As a high-heeled lady towers over a worker scrubbing her floor, the diligent employee imagines herself cleaning congested streets in the middle of the city. Drivers and passengers leer at her blocking the traffic and the woman feels as if she is one with the dirt which she so tirelessly washes away. Her job seems pointless in this context - only serving to remind her of her facelessness within this ignorant crowd.
Yet being stepped on in this way doesn't just influence your nightmares, it has a distinct effect on your dreams as well. The young couple walk by shops and boutiques which promise happiness in the form of luxury - or a pair of red shoes. But the characters reject this false ideal, and they do so with the help of music and self-expression (of course dancing). One of the final shots of the video shows Bowie standing between the workers and images of Sydney high class - art represented as the great leveler and source of hope for the downtrodden.
It's ironic that Bowie follows up one of his most socially conscious videos with a particularly insensitive one. Though upon release the biggest controversy was Bowie's bared backside, watching it today one can't avoid the blatant fetishization of Asian women throughout. The lyrics were supposedly originally a reference to cocaine (as in "China white") and written for Iggy Pop a few years earlier, but when Bowie decided to use it on his own work he deleted an introduction that might have made that clearer. What's left is a From Here to Eternity-referencing video that wants to free women from suppressive cultures, but ends up reinforcing already confining stereotypes.
The work begins with vaguely "eastern" music and an image of a decorated woman trapped behind barbed wire. Bowie, through his charms, is able to illicit emotion and personality out of her previously solemn face - proving that she is indeed more than simply a caricature. Yet the repition of "little china girl" - which sounds a lot like little china doll - paints a negative picture of women (particularly Asian women) as fragile infantile creatures who need the nurturing and help of men to express themselves. The shot of Bowie and the girl embracing on the beach only reiterates this point - the man being on top and all.
Perhaps even more interesting is what the video says about Bowie's attraction to and love of image. Even though he often challenges or dissects his fascination with guise and show through his videos, he still clearly enjoys inhabiting and creating statuesque characters - personified here in his doll-like love interest. Bowie has always criticized societies stifling codes of behavior, and perhaps his personas are in response to, or a product of, that suppression. But one can't ignore how influential the artist's promotion of image - particularly that of cool detachment - has been on the history of popular music and culture. Sometimes Bowie's robotic steeliness can feel very confining in it, of itself.
The song recently appeared on the soundtrack for the film The Business (2005), and thus this YouTube clip attributes the video to the movie. But the footage is clearly from the 80's and comes from a time when Bowie was enormously popular worldwide. Their are two amusing back-up singers and an impressive stage show, but the song really carries things with its catchy beat and always interesting lyrics. In fact it might have been much more fun to explore Bowie's ideas on love, religion and humanity in-depth.
This clip is only a short glimpse of the 21-minute epic production that Temple directed in anticipation of Bowie's Tonight album. While the video succeeded in vaulting "Blue Jean" into the top ten, there was no helping the public's lukewarm reception of the rest of the album. Nevertheless the music video is one of the earliest long-form narrative style releases, and features humor, lots of dancing and a compelling enough story.
Bowie shows some acting range by playing his dreamy stage persona and a dorkier version of himself simultaneously. With his face covered in paint and a turban on his head, the light reflecting off his get-up makes him look nearly hand-drawn or digitally animated at times. While the song seems to make reference to earlier hit "Jean Genie," the way in which the audience is blindly rapt in the movement of the performer (mimicking his actions often) reminds us of "Fashion." Except this time he appears far less critical of that phenomenon.
This faux-live video is memorable for its TRL-setting, hotel lobby introduction from Bowie and really great performance from the star (what an outfit!). The first video juggles a number of things but here Temple focuses purely on the song, bringing out the chorus with panning shots of everyone singing in unison. It's enough to make you dig up that dusty copy of Tonight and wonder why it is so oft maligned.
Having traveled this far into Bowie's video career without mentioning MTV was probably a mistake, as many forget he was just as vital to the success of music television as Michael Jackson(if not more so). It wasn't just videos either, Bowie was really setting up - as this work illustrates - the television pop star model that lasted for years to come.
Whereas in the past Bowie always represented a feeling of disconnect through images of space travel, during this period he goes with more literal ideas of "foreign" to represent not fitting in. He melds Buddhist and Hindu visuals with Middle Eastern and Islamic iconography (they're all the same anyway, right?) - with a story that holds more than a passing resemblance to "China Girl." The key is that no matter how he chooses to convey his ideas, ever since the days of "Major Tom" it has been Bowie himself who feels more "alien" than anyone else.
Here he has trouble looking in the mirror and perhaps imagines the entire affair from inside an insane asylum. He attempts to hide his insecurities through exterior changes (the backing band seems to reference the Tin Man from "Ashes to Ashes"), but this fails as the burqa-ed woman throws his money back at him. Before Bowie can ever escape that room he must first come to terms with his own humanity - maybe start believing that he isn't that weird after all (nobody is).
The film from which these scenes are taken, The Falcon and the Snowman (starring Sean Penn and Timothy Hutton), tells the true story of two Americans who decide to sell secrets to the Soviet Union during the Cold War. While one character is motivated by money and the other a sense of idealism, both are feeling disillusioned with their country and government. This impression of lost innocence - in regards to society's perception of American ideals - is expressed in the song through images of melting snow men and bloody falcons.
You see, umm, Bowie and Jagger are imitating each other, err, I mean it's supposed to be kitschy, uh, never mind. There's no point in explaining this silliness - you either love it or love to hate it. There were rumors at the time that these two were an item, but it's unclear how those got started.
If you take out the film tie-in and look past the blatant sexism of the catty female, this is really one of Bowie's finest videos - at the very least one of his best looking. Naturally he slips quite easily into the film noir genre, and director Julien Temple (who also directed the feature film of the same name) uses harsh lighting and more than a passing nod to "Billie Jean" to create an exciting environment of back alleys and empty cafes at night. There's a throw away reference to race riots (which only serves to magnify the peculiarity of the female character's costume), but this is really about Bowie's search for easy answers in a tough world.
In the classic fable, the zebra gets his stripes when he is burned while fighting a baboon for the right to give access to water to all animals. Here Bowie is torched by love and lust, in pursuit of his ideals. There's also a revival of the imagery from "Rock 'N Roll Suicide" - cigarettes which never last long enough, much like the innocent pleasures of new love.
We had trouble locating the actual music video for this (if anyone has a tip, holla!), and instead posted a link to the film from which it was taken. The original video featured scenes from the movie with Bowie's face on top, and not much else. The song features bleak and pessimistic lyrics - much like the darkly humorous nuclear war themes of the animated film. Worth renting if you've got the time.
This is one of the better movie tie-in videos ever made, with director Steve Barron actually using Labyrinth as a source of thematic inspiration rather than merely a promotional tool. Here the claustrophobic maze is within Bowie's own head - where he spirals down through a myriad of his past masks and characters. Yet when faced with the ultimate decision to turn to the dark side (er, represented by some cuddly puppets), Bowie releases a hand-drawn sketch he holds inside. It appears the only away for him to avoid complete madness, is to dig further into himself and his art.
Though it was fantasy film of the highest pedigree, Labyrinth has been a cult favorite since the early nineties due to Bowie as much as Henson or Lucas. He not only gives a wickedly strange performance, but carries himself with some very creepy sexual energy - on top of composing a few memorable songs for the soundtrack. In fact, for many kids growing up in the '90's, Labyrinth was their first introduction to the weird brilliance of Bowie.
The story of maturity and retaining one's childhood fantasies is also very relevant to Bowie the musician. Though his fantasies do seem to involve mainly himself as a space cowboy or an irresistible sex icon (sometimes both). Barron chooses to play up the latter of the two, underlining what the NY Times called a "driving, sensual appeal" in the soundtrack. In the film his Jareth character is the villain who takes Jennifer Connelly's baby brother away, but also the one who spurs a subtle sexual awakening in the pre-pubescent girl.
The more you study it, the more absurd (perhaps brilliant) this movie becomes.
Because of the controversial nature of some themes, this video was often banned or re-cut for television. The YouTube clip is case in point, so make sure to click the link to the longer version (though still edited) on iFilm above. A particularly important edit was made with the close-up on the child's building blocks near the climax of the video. In the edited version they read, "Luck", "Look" and "Mom," but originally those first two words were "Fuck" and "Food." The changed version doesn't make any sense, but the real one is a bleak distillation of what life will be for the impoverished (male) child.
Julien Temple became Bowie's go-to-guy for longer narrative videos, and he brings his flare for extreme imagery to this rather transparent video (which may be in response to criticism that the song's message was buried beneath it's over-produced sound). Once again (as in "Absolute Beginners") Temple presents the female body as prey chased through the night in a male-dominated environment. On the outer edges there is commentary about the treatment of poverty in America and the governments ineptitude in bridging the class divide (one of Bowie's favorite subjects). But at the center is the blatant rape of the protagonist and the second-class status of women in modern society. From the strip clubs that illuminate the background to the lover who deserts her in times of need - the woman is constantly reminded of her dependency on corrupt men.
Yet through it all Bowie can't resist making references to his own life - with the woman donning a Ziggy Stardust wig just as she enters into prostitution. Which either supports or counters those critics who claimed the artist had "sold out" in the 80's. It also raises the question of whether Temple and Bowie are themselves guilty of making their social commentary on gender at the expense of the woman - selling sex in order to speak of equality. The angels with fake video cameras imply hypocrisy, but the pretense here extends beyond religious morality.
There's sexuality of all kinds on display in this mock-documentary of backstage rehearsals on Bowie's Glass Spider Tour. The song itself continues themes from When the Wind Blows, lamenting the destruction of the Earth at the hands of pollution and capitalism. But it's a pretty stale affair overall, with the only highlights being the campy innuendos and a Peter Frampton cameo.
Never Let Me Down is often cited as Bowie's worst album, and the videos don't do much to refute that opinion. The opening narration sinks this one before it ever gets off the ground - putting us to sleep almost immediately. Baptiste-Mondino's creates an atmosphere of sexy boredom to bring out the melancholy notes of the song, but the sepia smokiness actually does bore us - and far too easily. The only attraction through the rest of the video are people humping each other (which isn't all that hot) and Bowie laying it down on harmonica (which is).
Most importantly: though we respect young Americans looking for a good time at an all-night dance-a-thon/orgy - this is surely no place for impressionable young minds!? Or is it all actually part of the young girl's fantasy? Or perhaps Bowie's? Let's hope the answer is "no," on both counts.
![[search archives]](http://www.google.com/custom?domains=obtusity.blogspot.com&q=archives&sitesearch=obtusity.blogspot.com&sa=Search&client=pub-0935254757130455&forid=1&ie=ISO-8859-1&oe=ISO-8859-1&cof=GALT:%23008000;GL:1;DIV:%23336699;VLC:663399;AH:center;BGC:FFFFFF;LBGC:336699;ALC:0000FF;LC:0000FF;T:000000;GFNT:0000FF;GIMP:0000FF;LH:50;LW:252;L:http://img301.imageshack.us/img301/4703/background5copypo6.jpg;S:http://www.obtusity.com;FORID:1&hl=en){kind=link}