We start out with Pink and an anonymous dark-haired lover apparently indulging in a romantic picnic, presumably somewhere in the French countryside. The producers are going for an old-school look, which means we are filming in black and white and Pink is sporting a voluminous hairdo that has clearly not been tamed by modern grooming products. The title credits are in French, to match the scenery and locale. It’s all very nice and sweet, but since Pink is involved, you know that something wickedly cool will soon jack things up and suddenly we have an elephant stampede or some such.
As the young lovers waller around on their probably hand-sewn blanket, Pink launches into the vocals, wearing flowers in her hair and a chunky metal necklace that could anchor a cruise ship. The couple gazes at one another with deep devotion or at least a desire for a round of wilderness sex, and things are heating up nicely. Then the dumb-ass guy (let’s call him Jacques) has the nerve to take a phone call just as Pink’s libido is at that point where phone calls clearly should not be taken.
So Pink does the only appropriate thing in such a situation, meaning she takes her glass of wine and dumps the contents in Jacques’ face. (In a nice bit of film-making flair, the wine is in blood-red color, making the assault look quite artsy against the otherwise black and white footage.) Then Pink and her possibly-Bohemian outfit stand up and stomp off, apparently in search of men who have a better understanding about the nuances of voice mail. (I’m not sure where she might be headed, this being the countryside and all. In France. It’s not like you can call a taxi. But hey, girl’s a trooper, right?)
Pink manages to find a dirt road, and decides this would be the perfect place to rip off her outer garments so that we can see she is wearing an aggressive bustier-thing under all that Bohemian mess. (But she manages to retain her lengthy, knee-banging pearl necklace, because you should always accessorize.) This new freedom of movement allows Pink to strut along with determination and eventual vengeance as she heads toward… well, I’m not sure. Perhaps a nice wine-tasting festival in the Loire Valley? Not clear.
Instead, Pink and her pearls manage to run across another French dude (we’ll call him Olivier) who appears to be jacking around with his motorcycle on the side of the road. The motorcycle conveniently has one of those side-car things, perfect for transporting women who stumble out of the woods wearing a bustier and an attitude. Bertrand has more hair than Pink, which might prove to be an issue, but he also has the ability to take off his sunglasses in a sexy way and gaze at Pink with a healthy dose of lust and brimming testosterone.
Next thing you know, Olivier is racing his scooter down the road whilst Pink is ensconced in the sidecar, with the wind making love to their mutual tresses. They eventually pull up outside a mammoth chateau (because where else would you take Pink if you found her wandering around in France?) and they clatter into the mammoth structure. Once inside, Olivier proceeds to work on a painting of Pink, probably because she felt it was the right moment to take off all her clothes, straddle an antique chair backwards, and shove her breasts into the 17th-century fabric. (She still has her pearls, though. A true lady never forgets such things.)
Olivier paints for quite some time. Wouldn’t you?
There’s a brief montage of people arriving at the chateau for some type of formal occasion, based on their fancy gowns as they strut around on the manicured lawn leading to the front doors. Of course, this is France, where couture is highly important, so these people might just be stopping by to borrow a cup of sugar.
Next up is Pink entering one of the ornate rooms in the chateau, a room that has rather dramatic stairs that she has to descend and an annoying amount of light that kind of obscures her outfit. But we can see enough to realize that Pink is sporting a form-fitting suit and a slicked-back, androgynous-qualifying hairdo that would make Annie Lennox proud. Pink glares at another woman in the room, one who is dressed a bit more gender-specific but is glaring back with an equal amount of displeasure about the other’s existence. Oh? Has Olivier been creating other paintings on the side?
Interestingly enough, Pink and this other woman (let’s call her Slutricia, because we know we aren’t going to like her if she makes Pink unhappy) decide to join hands and dance around the room, in that stiff and distant way that people dance when attending dinner parties at the homes of rich people. The glaring doesn’t stop, but at least they aren’t trying to kill each other with random cutlery like the common people often do.
Then Oliver descends the awkward staircase (at least I think it’s Olivier, that damn back-lighting is making identification a bit pesky) and he approaches the two women who would be lesbians if this were a slightly different movie with an alternate intended resolution. He kneels down and proffers a ring. (Oh my.) Pink smooths the front of her suit (like there’s anything to smooth, being form-fitting and all) and prepares to have jewelry slid on her finger. Instead, poor-decision Olivier chooses option B, which is the evil Slutricia who really didn’t have a purpose in life until this scene.
While Slutricia beams and envisions her name on the jewel-encrusted chateau mailbox, Pink continues glaring in the background. We’re sure that she’s plotting some type of retribution (after all, she nakedly straddled itchy antique furniture so her lover could express his artistic side, and if that isn’t deserving of matrimony then the world is clearly out of balance), we just don’t know how she’ll go about it. In any case, Olivier and Slutricia are most likely doomed.
Cut to Pink strutting up to yet another rustic shindig, with this particular event inspiring her to wear interestingly-applied eye makeup and wave about a sheer black umbrella that is somewhat useless as far as functional umbrellas go. Oh, look, it appears that Pink is at the wedding of Ollie and Slutty. This should be fun. As we gaze upon the nasty couple exchanging vows, we can’t help but notice something odd in the sky overhead, mainly because that something is a man peddling a bicycle with wings. With a giant red heart dangling from betwixt his pumping legs. Clearly, we are not in Texas.
We get shots of Slutricia being confused and Pink smirking saucily, then the airborne heart explodes and ooky red wetness splashes down, mostly on the newlyweds but also on various props and lots of other white things and people so we can have some nice visuals. (The shot of the priest looking heavenward whilst covered in sinful red goo is a nice touch.) Pink also gets a splash or two, but you know that girl doesn’t give a hoot about random fluids, hurling the useless parasol away and jumping around in gleeful abandon while the other snooty guests wonder how they can clean themselves without any nearby servants.
Pink then does a joyous interpretive dance to express her approval of how splendidly the day has been mucked up for the evil power twins at the altar, then she decides to wander off into an un-red part of the estate, where she manages to discover the bicycle rider wearing a sporty little hat and a sexy grin that indicates he knows how to ride more things than just a bicycle. Next thing you know, Pink and Bike Boy are whizzing through the sky atop his flying machine, with Pink demurely sitting side-saddle as B-Boy pumps away and takes her to a place where women who can wear a bustier with confidence are truly appreciated…
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