Man. I love Kanye. Seriously. Love when he’s asserting his power as a rapper to call out political figures when he feels racially discriminated against. I love when he cuts people off mid-acceptance speech when he feels that they’ve won unjustly. I love when he samples the shit out of older and more successful songs, raps overtop and releases them as singles. So when he put out this 34-minute music video two weeks ago to build hype for his album, my mouse was all up in that business. But you know what? No matter how much I, or anyone else, loves him, this video proves that nobody loves Yeezy more than Yeezy. Have fun wrapping your academic brains around this one, homeslizzles.
The video opens up, like, really dramatically. You can tell it’s dramatic because Yeezy’s running down a highway and it’s dark. His shirt’s half-buttoned and a choir sings a requiem. Drama! He’s coasting down the forest road in a slick-ass car, passing some curious deer. There are quick shots of flaming orbs of light here and there, but whatevs, he’s chilling &- just ask the deer. Neither Bambi nor Yeezy’s Tatra MTX V8 can avoid what happens next, though. Light shoots down, then — blank screen! Ridiculous car on fire! But he’s cool as ever, his suit’s not even wrinkled. He’s hit this slutty bird-woman &- that’s not gonna look good on his insurance. So he carries her to his place as the car explodes in the background in slow motion (gets rid of the evidence, plus slow-mo walk-aways are so badass).
Back at home, she’s good entertainment: feeding the birds, playing with visiting sheep, dancing as he tinkers with a sound mixer. Also, she’s, like, really hot, and her bra could rival Lil’ Kim’s in near-nip-slips. At night, they take walks under fireworks as a black kid dressed in red runs through a field with a torch fuming red smoke. Symbolism! An elderly marching band also intercepts their stroll, towing a parade float of Michael Jackson’s head. Just a regular Wednesday night in the West household, complete with the red KKK-type hoods.
Yeezy throws a dinner party but invites only people with all-white wardrobes. The caterers all look like frowny Padme Amidalas. He’s making some pretty huge political strides in this scene, as the only white people in this video are the servers.
Anyway, his girlfriend’s fumbling to pick up bread, and his buddy’s like, “Did you know that your girlfriend’s a bird?” That’s, like, a really good question, but Kanye’s miffed. He sulks over to the piano and starts busting some rhymes as a flock of ballet dancers in black tutus shuffle over. It’s pretty cool, I guess, ’cause they’re getting really into it. He’s rapping: “She finds pictures in my e-mail/I sent this bitch a picture of my dick/I don’t know what it is with females/But I’m not too good at that shit” and they look like the cast of Swan Lake. Penetrating lyricism, obviously.
Back at the dinner table, Padme brings out the main course — mmmmm, colourful turkey. Chick flips the fuck out, but come on, Kanye’s only butchered and served her cousin up on a platter in front of her. Besides, the guests are leaving.
Despite that, they have deep talks, though. Like this one:
CHICK: Nice statues.
CHICK: I was kidding, they’re actually horrible.
CHICK: Stop killing my homies.
CHICK: Seriously. BRB, gotta burn (or something)
He’s sad, so they start doin’ the nasty. She’s giving her O-face in slow-mo with a pool of red light surrounding them on the roof. Uncomfortable. The sun rises. He wakes up alone, in his navy suit and loafers. He starts running, and it’s back to the first scene again, with his shirt halfway buttoned. Dusky. He should probably look up, ’cause she’s soaring higher, but nothing beats aimless running, right? Anyway, it ends with one more orb of light shooting into the sky, and his name in pretty much every credit.
Nice direction, Kanye, but the acting’s a little lacklustre. Maybe next time, don’t count on the last girl who gave you a decent blowjob for any acting awards.