We start off with the band onstage in what looks like a cross between a fancy nightclub, a Chinese Buffet and a bordello. There are lots of people off to one side, lounging around in the V.I.P. area of the buffet, with the women all dressed like unfocused hookers. (So much for not objectifying women, eh? Oh wait, just look at the album cover.) There’s one woman in particular that we are supposed to pay attention to, because the camera keeps doing so. She’s got pale-white, baby-doll skin and enough frizzy white hair to fuel Amsterdam for a month.
Oh wait, was that Eric Roberts sitting in a throne-like chair and wearing a bathrobe? That can’t be good.
Lead singer Brandon finally starts singing, and he makes sure that we can see his snazzy threads, a mix of Willy Wonka and David Bowie going to church. Then we have another shot of Eric, and a shot of Frizzy Hair looking bored because she doesn’t have a gentleman that she can straddle while all of her little slut friends do. Suddenly, Eric throws her an apple, which she happily snatches out of the air with uncontrolled lust.
Frizzy is now inspired to start pawing on a few of the gentleman callers, which in turn inspires her little slut friends to up the ante with their provocative poses and thigh-exposure. It’s suddenly very hot in there as people yearn and stretch and wiggle their tongues. Brandon keeps singing about not wanting to see all this mess, but it doesn’t stop him from looking. He might have some unresolved issues.
Eric throws another apple at Frizzy, since she apparently isn’t being trashy enough. Frizzy gets back to work with latching on to old men while Eric sweats and smiles. Like he’s not creepy enough when he’s dry.
Oh wait, Frizzy and Brandon have run behind a curtain and seem to be back together again, so I don’t know why Brandon is still even singing this song. Hmm. We’ll have to figure that out later, because now all the slut girls dismount from their aging partners and head out to the dance floor. Once there, they start doing some choreography that mostly involves twirling without letting their massive hairdos unravel or the body paint to start flaking off. Whoops, they just lifted their tawdry dresses so we can see their barely-clad crotches. Then they do the same with their hind quarters. That mess was really important to the story.
Quick shot of the patiently waiting but still unattended gentleman callers in the V.I.P. lounge, with the only young one looking a bit too much like LeAnn Rimes for my comfort.
Anyway, while the Slut Dancers finish up waving their love boxes, we cut to an outside balcony where Brandon hooks up with Frizzy again. They clench hands romantically for 3 seconds, then Frizzy runs back inside and hops on Eric’s lap. Frizzy really needs to make up her mind. To be fair, maybe she can’t see with all that hair, so she’s sleeping with everybody just to make sure she gets around to her real boyfriend at some point.
Well, it seems Frizzy can’t keep her eyes off Brandon even while she’s riding Eric, so Eric throws her to the ground. (Don’t worry, the hair cushioned her fall and she’s just fine.) A few scenes later and Frizzy is back with Brandon in another secluded area, but we know not to trust that skank at this point. There’s still a few men hanging around that she hasn’t sampled.
And there she goes, snagging up yet another beau so they can do a sexual tango in some ballroom, which quickly becomes Frizzy and Brandon dancing, then back to Frizzy and Alejandro, then Frizzy and Eric, then back to… oh, who cares. There’s some dancing, people. Accept and move on.
The Waltz of the Multiple Personalities goes on for a bit, with absolutely no resolution so I’m not sure what the point was, then we’re once again on that outside balcony, where it’s now daylight and Brandon is clutching Frizzy, who has managed to find another outfit, probably borrowed from that odd LeAnn Rimes boygirl.
Aw hell, here come the Slut Dancers again, hooking it out to the dance floor even though you know they’ve got to be tired by now. This time they are even more invested in showing us their personal jewelry collections and flashing their underwear at the Peanut Gallery. Some of them even hold one foot over their heads while belching the words of the chorus with their hoo-hoos. It’s really inspiring.
Cut to Eric and Brandon playing chess, because that’s exactly what I would do in the middle of a Chinese Bordello Buffet. I guess Brandon’s not a really good sport, because when he realizes that he’s going to lose he knocks the table over and stomps away in a little snit, while Eric licks his lips and sweats some more.
We end the song with a whirl of images. We have gauzy scenes of a couple getting married but we really can’t see their faces. (If any of the guys are marrying any of the girls up in this place, they better get a pre-nup.) Shots of Brandon and Frizzy having a tender moment, even though we know she’s only resting before she couples with the next man who walks into the place, even if he just needs directions to Wal-Mart. She’ll offer him the bonus plan.
Final shot is of Brandon walking away and leaving little Frizzy, bereft and all alone with just her raging libido and insatiable hair to keep her company. Poor thing. Oh wait, someone else just came through the door. Yay!
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