Monday, December 5, 2011

Soap-Box with Mother Monster...

Okay, this blog is devoted to movies. I try my best to provide my insight into Hollywood. Sure, I've wandered here and there (my Britney post wasn't exactly "film" related), but I always try to come back to what this blog is--Cinema, film, movies, motion pictures.

However, in lieu of certain events, I simply had to comment on this--the hot mess music video of 2011.

Lady GaGa has made what she calls a "movie." Check it out below... My thoughts on this "movie" follow the clip. Good luck making it through the entire 14 minutes. And it might not be safe for work.

Okay, so Miss Monster's "movie" goes all allegorical on us, painting broad, strange, and vague strokes (Cheerio bath? really?) that are supposedly representative of her life (Again WTF! A Cheerio bath?). Certainly, I got to give her credit for trying, but at some point her "movie," with it's condescending voice over (that also makes very little sense in relation to her life) comes off more as a pompous statement on her popularity than simply a "movie," her life story as she claims this to be. GaGa completely misses the mark. It's not until the music actually begins (almost 10 minutes in) that the "movie" actually is worth watching. Here the music video feels more cinematic than whatever preceded it. The editing is spot on here, but again only during the actual music portion of the "movie."  

GaGa has simply bit of way more than she can chew--yes she directed this monstrosity. She isn't Spielberg and despite her best efforts she's not even Michael Bay or dare I say Hollywood pariah Brett Ratner. They at least entertains us. Do what you do best GaGa--sing and perform. Entertain through music and spectacle, not "movies." Be the hot mess you were born to be and spare us the life lecture that was about as interesting as an infomercial for Shamwowww. Wear that bloody meat dress, cake your face with extravagant make-up, and bedazzle yourself with glitter and glass shards, but please, please, please, don't ascribe yourself to the mantle of filmmaker. You're not--plain and simple. Calling you a filmmaker is like calling Snooki an actress or labeling Rachel Ray a life coach. 

Shenanigans are what we have come to expect from her. My blog post will certainly not dent her popularity and this "movie" will do little to taint her image. Little Monsters (her devoted fans) are persistent and they'll insure she stays around for awhile.  GaGa is this generations music icon, but when she tries to make herself something she isn't she loses serious points in my book--and fast. Indeed, the woman who preaches being on the edge of glory is creeping (ever so slightly) to the verge of infamy--desperate infamy at that. My advice: Take a lesson from fellow hot messes Brit, Madonna, Whitney, Rebecca Black, or whoever else you idolize this week, and let someone else make your "movies."

Oh, and good job firing your choreographer--Laurieann Gibson . Smooth move. Sure she's a pill, but she's also kinda gold. After all the only tolerable part of the "movie" was her choreography, but it's okay maybe you'll become a choreographer after this too. Because film making worked out soooooo well.

Little Monster hate mail and death threats filling my inbox in 3... 2... 1...

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