Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Don't you hate it when you're bitching about bad phone signal in a club and suddenly you find yourself half naked in a women's prison?

I finally caught the full, non censored version of Lady Gaga’s epical ten minute long music video for ‘Telephone’ the other day. Now, I know music videos don’t generally make sense – like how Jedward manage portray themselves as credible singers in their Vanilla Ice collaboration, haha – but Lady Gaga has outdone herself in this one. Check it out, if you haven't ...

I have no idea how she would have pitched such an idea to her manager? And I can only imagine what she was on when she thought of it ... fuckin horse tranquilisers or something. It might have gone a little something like this ...

Manager: So, as your song is about you not being able to hear a phone call while out clubbing, it would make sense to shoot the video ... in a club.
Lady Gaga: No. I want to have it in a women’s prison.
M: Oh. Oh, so you’re taking a phone call from a visitor, and ... the inmates are playing loud music ...?
LG: No. I shall enter, being led by two dreadfully stereotypical butch lesbo guards, who will then strip me naked, as I’m sure happens in all female prisons, and I shall be wearing nothing but a see through g-string.
M: Does a g-string really need to be see-through? 
LG: I’ve always found g-strings to be quite prudish. This will make them just a bit naughtier.
LG: We should then show some realistic depictions of prison life – you know, some more horrifically ugly stereotypical butch lesbians pumpin iron while some mingin fat chicks bitch on each other wearing boob tubes and underwear. I will of course be wearing chains and sunglasses ... sunglasses made of still smouldering cigarettes, that is.
M: ... artistic.
LG: I will then engage in some recreational dancing, as I’m sure prisons provide their inmates with hobbies.
M: Like salsa?
LG: No. I will dance down the prison hall in a studded leather bikini.
M: Ah, a bit of sex appeal.
LG: No. It will not be in the slightest bit sexy as I will be snarling aggressively.

 ... Did I mention I'm going to have hideously unattractive eyebrows?

Then I want a scene of me expressing my tragic loneliness at being in prison by writhing around my cell wearing nothing but yellow police tape know, like an interpretive dance ...

LG: So at this point, Beyonce bails me out. I’ve written the script for our crucial reunion scene.

-Beyonce: 'You’ve been a bad girl. A very, very, bad, bad girl, Gaga'.
-(Gaga takes an aggressive bite of Beyonce’s sandwich)
-Gaga: 'Sure you wanna do this HoneyBee?'
-Beyonce : 'What do u mean am I sure?'
-Gaga: 'You know what they say, once you kill a cow, you gotta make a burger'
-Beyonce: 'You know Gaga, trust is like a mirror. You can fix it is its broke ...'
-Gaga: '...But you can still see the crack in that mother fucker’s reflection.'

M: Oscar winning analogies, Gaga.
LG: I know. So me and Bee go to a diner, where Bee meets her homeboi, who asks, “Where you been, bitch?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he gets up, goes and hits some guy, and comes back again. No explanation for this is needed, because all black ghetto guys start random unnecessary fights. But anyway, this is enough time for my HoneyBee to poison his drink.
M: So is there a telephone reference in this at all?
LG: In the next scene, I shall be wearing a telephone on my head while dancing in the kitchen and making sandwiches. Then we poison everyone else in the bar for no apparent reason – including the dog – then we go dancing with a bizarre motley crew of people you definitely wouldn’t want to come across in a dark alley.
M: Ok, let’s talk costume here.
LG: Oh I have it all figured out; I shall be wearing a glaringly obviously pro American star spangled bikini, and HoneyBee will be kitted out like Wonder Woman. We will dance like spastics doing some strange Michael Jackson type moves, and I will continue to scowl. At this point, we’ll be singing about being too busy dancing to answer the phone, which for my HoneyBee, means dancing alone in her room. Then I’m going to randomly writhe in front of the car in a leopard print catsuit. Finally, we shall drive off in to the sunset.’
M: ...and the telephone is where in all this?
LG: ...What telephone?

It’s a bit of a mish mash of things – the animated ‘SMACK!” and ‘VROOM!” graphics are definitely old skool batman references. Then there’s the dance she does in the prison corridor – it’s like an ugly, unsexy version of Madonna in her Vogue video. The diner setting is definitely a nod to Pulp Fiction, while the Michael Jackson moves are a wink at Thriller (albeit a dodgy, unsexy wink – more like getting a tiny fly in your eye and freaking out). You could probably get a bitta Kill Bill in there too.

As bizzarely entertaining as it is (it’s a bit like a train wreck – if the train were full of gyrating possible lesbian prisoners that is), it makes no sense in relation to the lyrics, but there you go; when has Lady Gaga ever made sense? As for those badass cigarette glasses though – Kanye eat your heart out.

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