I know I mentioned in my last article that I only write about the bad stuff in pop culture, but I just cannot contain myself with respect to the masterpiece that is Lady Gaga’s video for “Telephone”. Admittedly, if I was not so smitten with Lady Gaga (or, as she is known in some circles, Godga) and her ridiculous outfits, her camp sensibilities, and irresistibly catchy music, this would probably be one of my run-of-the-mill snarks. But it isn’t. Because Lady Gaga has read my pokerface, eaten my heart, and left me speechless.
If you do not enjoy a woman whose primary appeal is her ability to make songs with little to no social message (though she has raised awareness about the great need to take a ride on someone’s disco stick) and pretty much a sole purpose of making people dance and sing wildly inappropriate lyrics about penises, stalking, and rough sex, you will absolutely loathe this video. Double this loathing if you also don’t like Quentin Tarantino, gratuitous crotch shots, purposefully bad acting, or large doses of cheesiness. But I love all of these things despite the fact that as a Wesleyan student I am supposed to be cultured and have an appreciation for free-form jazz and movement artists. But like the uncouth neanderthal I try ever so hard not to be, I say “screw that” to things that actually have cultural value and hunker down to watch a woman swathed in crime scene tape sing about not wanting to take calls while she’s clubbing. Baby Boomers, you may commence weeping for this generation.
But what is it exactly that I find so amazing about this video? I think its appeal lies in its self-awareness; Lady Gaga knows that everything she’s doing is completely absurd and over-the-top, but she doesn’t care. Bears relieve themselves in the forest, and Lady Gaga considers telephones and Diet Coke cans to be acceptable cranial accessories. The video revels in its sheer weirdness, and Gaga and director/co-writer Jonas Akerlund’s glee is palpable as the video goes up yet another level in absurdity. The video’s synopsis reads like a pop culture surrealist dream: Lady Gaga goes to a prison full of hot women, gets bailed out by Beyonce, they drive off together in a pickup truck named The Pussy Wagon, they speak in cryptic metaphors, Lady Gaga makes a sandwich, and then Beyonce and Lady Gaga kill everyone in a diner for no apparent reason. Then they dance. To sum up: think all the works of Quentin Tarantino on enough acid to kill a large mammal, with a sprinkling of manga and 80s kitsch aesthetic. In spite of my efforts to be so high above all of this ridiculousness, I love every second of this video. Why? Because any other artist given this song would hear the lyrics and hear words like “I’m up in the club” and such, and decide to make the video one of those run-of-the-mill “in da club” type videos where attractive people gyrate in a nightclub and little else happens. But Lady Gaga manages to turn an otherwise above-average but nothing special techno-pop song into an acid-trip through a world that’s half Tarantino/exploitation film pastiche, half anime, and all Gaga.
I’m not going to call her the next Madonna/Cyndi Lauper/Jesus just yet, but I think this video proves once again that Lady Gaga is a consummate performer. Clever, catchy songs (and if you dispute me on “clever”, listen for the Hitchcock references in Bad Romance: I want your psycho, your vertigo stick, want you in my rear window, baby you’re sick), a powerhouse voice even without Auto-Tune, and unmatched showmanship, at least since Michael Jackson has left us. I genuinely hope she’s here to stay because the music world sure can use her unique brand of fabulous.