Friday, December 24, 2010
Enrique Iglesias, Ludacris - “Tonight (I’m Lovin’ You)”
Oh my, this one gets a little steamy. If images of bodies writhing in ecstasy make you a little uncomfortable, you might want to skip this one and go talk to your pastor, therapist or overbearing mother. Then again, it’s not like there’s frontal nudity with glistening body parts shoved at the screen, so I don’t think the world is going to end just yet.
Anyway, we start out with Enrique on some street, looking a little sad, and then BAM, a quick glimpse of the mentioned writhing bodies. This kicks off a montage of Enrique, some blond girl who appears to be walking backwards, people getting off of planes, and more writhing. Cut to a sex club where Enrique, looking effortlessly hot, is wandering around. Nasty tramps in cages are waving their booties and all that. (Some of them are extremely limber, so we need to give them credit for that. Not so much for their apparent need to straddle metal poles.)
Enrique stumbles around a corner, and we are presented with a dark-haired woman sitting in a well-lit chair like some type of royalty. She runs her finger around the rim of her martini glass, so we know that she’s sexually liberated. Enrique doesn’t immediately go up to her, instead choosing to mosey through the crowd while throwing furtive glances, which is kind of stupid. If you look like Enrique, all you have to do is walk up to a woman and she will toss her panties skyward.
Appropriately, they manage to hook up right when the beat of the song gets to really thumping, and within 3 seconds tongues are being shoved where they shouldn’t be if you’ve just met. Before you know it, fishnet-clad legs are reaching toward the ceiling. Apparently Enrique doesn’t like to mess around once he comes to a decision. (It also appears that they might be playing squat tag in a bathroom, and I can’t really say that I find that intriguing. Or sanitary. Maybe it’s just me.)
Then the music starts doing a weird “underwater” thing, and we start jump-cutting around so fast that I have no idea who is doing exactly what. All I know is that there seems to be some issue with the electric bill, because it gets awfully dark up in there. And somebody seems to have a really bad case of asthma.
Cut to a fancy car driving down a city street. Inside we find Ludacris, and he’s typically surrounded by a bevy of horny women who normally wouldn’t even look his direction if he didn’t have a recording contract. Initially, they are listening to Shirley Temple sing “Good Ship Lollipop”, which would make anybody suffer a psychotic break, so Ludacris makes the chauffeur jack with the radio. Of course, the chauffeur (who is way too white and old to be Ludacris’ real driver) manages to find Enrique’s song right at the point where Ludacris does his guest vocals. How convenient.
So Ludacris does his rap thang, which includes manly hand gestures but does not include taking off his sunglasses even though it’s midnight. He seems to be crooning to the skanky women, but if you watch carefully, it seems that the skanks are much more interested in each other than what Ludacris might have to offer. (We probably shouldn’t mention this to him.) Oh wait, Ludacris pours everybody some cognac, which helps the girls regain their focus. They are once again fighting each other for the chance to rub their boobies on Ludacris’ designer suit. The world is now back in order.
(Quick shot of the old, white chauffeur jamming and getting down. There are just some things that old, white people shouldn’t do.)
Cut to shots of some resort, where Enrique has just arrived on an airplane. (Although it looks just like the same arrival shot we briefly saw earlier, so this might be a flashback. Or a flash forward. Or a flash sideways. Perhaps the producers of “Lost” were involved in the production of this video. Maybe Hurley will walk by munching on a chocolate bar.) We cut back to the old chauffeur, but now his passenger is… maybe… the aggressive asthma person from Enrique’s fun time in the public toilet. Not sure. She tells the chauffeur that she’s headed to Mexico “for pleasure”. Isn’t that why we all head to Mexico?
Now we’re in a casino of some kind, where Enrique is playing poker because, well, he’s the star of the video and has to be in a certain number of scenes. One of the ladies watching the goings-on is really pretty and smoking a clove cigarette, so we know she’s a tramp. Enrique realizes this, and we learn that even though he has the winning hand, he folds so he can follow Blondie to wherever tramps go when they want to lure away hot singers.
Turns out that tramps lead potential bedmates to a fancy room loaded with other hormone-blazing women. They all secretly watch while Blondie puts on lipstick and then jumps on Enrique like a wildebeest felling a gazelle. It instantly gets dark (somebody really needs to check into the electrical situation) and we have jump-cuts of Blondie and Enrique ripping off couture and fondling sensitive body parts.
Cut to the next morning, where Blondie is leading Enrique up a curving staircase because it’s really pretty and will look good on film. Halfway up, they encounter Bathroom Tramp, sporting a severe hairstyle and looking none too pleased that Enrique has moved on to the next stall. She glares at him, looking like Joan Crawford did just before she killed somebody in a 1950’s movie.
Now Enrique is sitting at the end of his hotel bed, singing, and we can see about 20 people having group sex behind him. Why he would continue to sing while this is going on, I don’t really know, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Oh look, I guess they need some fresh meat, because Enrique gets pulled into that undulating mess. Does this guy ever sleep? And judging by the free-for-all on the bed, he’s got more than just the music in him.
Another montage, this one of Enrique touching a window, expensive yachts racing about on pretty blue water, the grope fest on the hotel bed, rugged cliffs with birds flying and squawking, and blurred images of breasts, because it’s perfectly fine to kill people in videos but you don’t dare show an exposed nipple. Right.
Cut to Enrique on one of the yachts, currently trolling about in some cliff-lined harbor where the water is gorgeous and poor people are hidden from view. And, lo and behold, his boat companions are Bathroom Tramp and Poker Face Tramp. You’d think this would be awkward, but Enrique is wearing a stylish hat, so that makes things better. And then the tramps lean in to kiss one another. End video.
Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.