We start out with a motorcycle gang tooling along some highway, a road that is clearly not anywhere in California because there aren’t very many cars around, allowing the motorcycles to stay in formation like a high-school flag corps that can move really, really fast. We don’t know where we’re going, but this is a Gaga video, and she probably doesn’t know either. It’s all about the ride, yes?
Speaking of Gaga, there she is, perched behind the driver of the lead motorcycle (Gaga doesn’t follow anybody, sayin’), her psychedelic hair blowing in the wind as she looks around to make sure everybody is looking at her. One of the bikers has “Judas” spelled out in studs on the back of his jacket. We don’t know if that’s actually him or if he’s just a fan.
Just as we’re about to get bored (because how long can you watch motorcycles going nowhere, even if they are synchronized?), Gaga shoves her well-insured fist in the air and the song starts. The dudes are still driving, but at least we get to start seeing several side-stories being played out. There are a ton of these sidebar dance-offs, and I’ll try to keep track, but Gaga is a very busy girl.
Okay, first we’ve got the tale of how Gaga is absolutely enthralled with this guy wearing a gold-encrusted crown of thorns. Her deep devotion requires that she wear a crown of her own and constantly paw at Thorn-Baby so that we can confirm he does indeed have pectoral muscles. Gaga bounces all around on the back of that cycle, probably doing an intricate dance, but possibly just trying to keep one of those pretty thorns from putting her eye out. (It’s all fun and games until somebody gets disabled by headgear.)
The gang finally stops off at some odd little town square where the buildings are ugly and no one is dressed properly. Gaga immediately hops off her ride while waving about a purple cape, and then proceeds to lead many of the villagers in a line dance. While these energetic folks flit and gyrate, we get quick shots of the remaining villagers that indicate we might have interrupted a primitive religious ceremony wherein sad people ponder their sins while a disco beat plays.
Whoopsie, Gaga seems to have suddenly lost most of her clothing, but something tells me that’s probably a stipulation in her contract for every video. No matter, everybody still has the rhythm in them, and they all magically know the same exact dance steps. We start seeing another sidebar, where Gaga is trying to tell us something while clutching at her hair, but I’m thoroughly distracted by the fact that Gaga has discovered yet another interesting way to apply eyeliner. Perhaps someday someone will tell her that the stuff should actually go NEAR her eyes.
The main story has moved inside one of the buildings, some sort of tavern-slash-boudoir where people look a little more angry than they really should when alcohol is available. (Maybe the service is bad.) Luckily, the people in this place also know the steps to any dance that Gaga might break into, so a bunch of them go at it for a bit. (In case you’re tracking the wardrobe, Gaga has changed her panties and replaced that crown with a nice bandana, transitioning to a delightful biker/pole-dancer look.)
(Side note: For extra credit, try counting how many times that one guy with the Fred Flintstone wardrobe mysteriously disappears and then reappears from the dance troupe.)
We cut back to the guy with the spiky hat, and he’s watching some other guy be really rough and naughty with some random wenches. Spike seems to be a bit unimpressed with this other guy’s behavior, but I’m not sure why. After all, his own girlfriend is currently shoving her woman bits at all four corners of the room at the same time. Perhaps we’ll learn more later. Or not.
Quick scene with some meaty guys stomping their feet on the ground outside, then Gaga appears in another outfit, this one involving a blue veil, a different bandana, and a posse of men who have apparently all lost their shirts in a tragic couture mishap. Doesn’t matter, without restrictive clothing they can now dance with even more abandon, and they proceed to do so. Gaga leads them in an extended interpretive dance that tells the shocking story of what can happen if you touch an electrical outlet with wet hands.
We have another sidebar mess involving a bejeweled mace, more sad people in the midst of some religious something or other, and Gaga making out with what I think is a piece of rope. I have no idea what’s going on, so I’m glad when a brawl breaks out and diverts our attention. Big-haired harlots race in to separate the shoving and yelling thugs, sending them into time-out.
Back to Gaga and her troupe, now dancing out the story of what can happen if a thermonuclear reactor is not treated with respect. While they are doing that, we see that the one Mean Guy who roughly tongued a tart a few scenes back is still being an ass to the women. Of course, maybe if those girls wore more than a paper clip and a rubber band, they might get a little more respect.
A string of crazed jump shots, then we have Gaga dressed in an aggressive getup that might have been inspired by nuns on acid. She doesn’t appear to be very happy, probably because the hat she’s sporting is bigger than the rest of her body and it must be a bitch to hold her head up. Oh, and she has a gun, which she is pointing at Mean Guy while Spike gazes on benevolently and shirtlessly. Uh oh.
Gaga shoves the gun in Mean Guy’s face and pulls the trigger. But instead of a bullet, we have lipstick growing out of the business end of the gun. (To be honest, that little action looked a bit more horny-canine than I think people intended.) Gaga smears the lipstick all over Mean’s face, and then drops to the ground in anguish, apparently having just spied a vision of Mary Magdalene in her impromptu facial artwork.
Suddenly, the music stops, and we branch into two stories. One involves Gaga standing on a rocky beach in Elizabethan attire while a wave approaches, and the other has Gaga apparently giving herself an erotic rinse in a giant birdbath. The first story is a bit predictable (yep, the wave eventually knocks her ass in the water), so we’ll go into more detail with the second thread. (Basically, will she get clean or won’t she?)
The camera pulls back, and we see that the giant birdbath also contains Spike and Mean Guy, both of them looking slightly anxious but neither of them hightailing it out of there. (There’s also a third story with Spike working his way through a crowd of trampy yet devotional people, but we’ve already got too much going on to wonder what the hell that’s all about.)
Birdbath Gaga washes the feet of her aqua men in tight close-up. (Mean Guy has some really ugly-ass toes, which might explain his bitter attitude toward life.) Then Gaga abruptly flings water into the air and the music kicks in again. Quick, unexplained shot of Mean kissing the cheeks of Spike before a crowd of bored and nameless extras, then we have Enraged Nun Gaga dropping to her knees in front of Spike, followed by Tammy Wynette Gaga still clutching her face and showing us her overly-detailed nail polish.
We revisit the birdbath, and we watch as Mean pours a can of beer on Gaga’s quivering fanny while she’s on all fours and salivating all over Spike’s knee. Then Mean tosses the empty can over his shoulder as Beer Foam Gaga lunges toward Spike in a frenzy of release and clanking, oversized jewelry.
Back outside, Peace Train Gaga is dancing with yet another lineup of oddly-clad townsfolk, joyously celebrating who knows what (the potential Immaculate Conception in the birdbath?) and proving that they have an excellent body fat ratio. This is followed by the appearance of yet another Gaga, this one requiring that she sport black-and-white striped tresses while wearing a sparkly wedding gown.
It seems that the crowd milling around Zebra Gaga is not appreciative of her sartorial selection, and they seem to be throwing telekinetic punches at her, causing her to stagger and grasp at her midsection like she’s regretting her menu choice at the Mexican restaurant. She eventually crashes facedown in a flurry of anguish and ruined finery.
Quick shot of a Gaga with shredded wheat cakes on her head, crying, and then we close with a final glimpse of Dead-Bride Gaga on the ground, with one leg sticking out of her poofy attire, the foot encased in a shoe that mystifyingly makes me wonder if a surprised clown is trapped under there somewhere…
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