We start out with Nicki wearing an odd Princess/Tinkerbell outfit, waving about a magic wand that might also be a taser, because there’s some serious magnetic something going on with the end of it. Princess Nicki shoots a wad of firepower at a fancy makeup table, where another Nicki is dressed up as Cleopatra, and causes a glass slipper to appear among the bottles of foundation and glue. Personally, I’m not fond of sparkly footwear suddenly appearing up in my grill.
But Cleopatra Nicki is fine with it, clutching the shoe to her bosom, and then launching into a tribute rap about how she is some intergalactic being sent here to save the planet from something or other. She shoves the shoe on her blue-nylon foot and waits for redemption. This doesn’t immediately happen, so Cleo Nicki raps for a while about her empire and the injustice of having to pay taxes on her record sales.
At one point, Nicki warbles “I sprinkle holy water, upon the vampire.” Who the hell is that? Has she been watching too much Fox News?
Cleo Nicki tries to explain more about her trials and tribulations, but this mostly consists of her comparing herself to Goliath, Donald Trump and Jesus. I don’t learn a whole lot during this bit, and I instead concentrate on trying to figure out which of her many well-documented personalities currently has the steering wheel, because they clearly aren’t using the same GPS as anyone else.
Cleo Nicki finally gets bored at the makeup table, and decides to waltz around her little palace, with the train on her dress long enough that you fully expect the British Royal Family to show up wearing those incredibly ugly hats that they manage to find somewhere. Nicki even gives a “shout out to her haters, sorry that you couldn’t phase me.” Um, okay. Maybe if you took that stick of delusional grandeur out yo butt I just might be able to do the phase thing. Sayin.
And right about now we start seeing our first shots of Drake. He’s wandering around the palace being all cool and stuff, talking on his cell phone and clutching a glass of boom juice. He pauses for a moment on a convenient balcony to watch Nicki do some of her trademark robotic moves, wherein she seems to be demanding that Nordic gods come satisfy her in every way.
And this apparently signals the arrival of a new Nicki, this one with cotton candy hair and an apparent need to showcase her breasts in a dramatic way. She’s standing in some hallway at the palace, which is apparently one of the minor hallways because nobody else is around. Candy Nicki doesn’t care, because she’s there, and the party will always be started no matter where she is.
Now we have a montage of Cleo Nicki and Candy Nicki, both of them flirting with the camera in a manner that causes Drake to realize that his life will never be complete unless he sleeps with at least one of Nicki’s personalities. We get a few shots of him prowling around both Nicki’s and getting heated, but since it’s just not cool for him to be tied to any one woman, he decides to start his own rap.
And he raps for a very long time. There’s some shout-outs to record executives and other rappers, because that’s very important for us to hear in a song, right? And some other mess about the fact that, basically, the world is a better place because he is the new king of the universe. (He even sits in a throne chair, in case we didn’t get his self-love message.) Oh, and there’s a big-ass table loaded down with chocolate-covered nibbles. Because if your narcissism gets to be too much, you can always win the people back with free candy.
Did I mention that he raps for a very long time? Seriously. We get some additional detail that “me and Nicki are gettin’ married today”. Really? Is there a church that can hold both of your posses AND your egos? Drake throws out a line about “everybody dies, but not everybody lives”, with Nicki nodding her head fervently like Moses wrote that down on a stone tablet and a gospel choir confirmed it.
This triggers more shots of Candy Nicki in that hallway where everyone else fears to tread because her couture might cut them. Then we have Drake and Cleo Nicki in front of a fireplace, so we can understand that their loins are on fire for each other. They move in for a kiss, but it doesn’t actually happen, so I’m guessing that somebody has a “no tongue” rider in their contract.
Sudden shot of Tinkerbell Nicki flying around the grounds of the palace. She waves her power wand, showering pink sparks everywhere, which signals the start of some jump-cutting in the video. Candy Nicki is still waving her arms in that desolate hallway. Lots of folks are attending some type of praise ceremony under a handy rotunda. And Drake and Nicki are about to get married.
Seems so. While they stand at what might be an altar, fireworks fill the sky and both of them sing about what it means to be hitched to someone who has created an entirely fake personality in order to become a pop star. Apparently Nicki is unable to express her thoughts just by herself, so she enlists the aid of Candy Nicki, Tinkerbell Nicki, Cleo Nicki and a janitor to tell her life-affirming tale of how she only became alive once she entered a recording studio and somebody plugged her in.
It’s very touching.
Once the vows are done, and they once again almost-kiss instead of really doing it (damn those restrictive contracts!) we get more jump-cuts of all the Nicki’s celebrating her world dominance along with Drake’s firm conviction that by simply not shaving he becomes the most irresistible man on the planet. We close with the tossing of a bouquet, more fireworks, and a pre-nup agreement spelling out that neither of them is allowed to have extra-marital sex, unless it will lead to increased record sales or a Grammy.
I think they’ll be very happy together. You?
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