We start off with a somber disclaimer that some fool stole some personal video footage of Justin and uploaded it to the Internet, and we’re about to see some of that. I instinctively think “sex tape”, because all savvy pop stars have one of those on backup just in case the record sales drop, but I quickly realize that I don’t want to see Justin or Nicki naked. (He’s far too young to know what he’s doing and she’s already shown us all her intimate merchandise, since she rarely wears much more than some nice jewelry and yet another colorful wig.)
But the footage turns out to be a random mess of people going cray-cray when they realize a camera is pointing in their direction (just like the trashy folks the news media always manage to find wandering around a murder scene, those bad-teeth people with jacked-up hair hollering “I was just tryin’ to buy me some drugs and there was a drive-by and somebody dead now. I found me some Jesus after that, sure did.”
We get to see Justin playing ping-pong (or “table tennis” for the annoying politically-correct people in the audience), Justin mugging for the camera, Justin acting like a scratch-DJ in what looks like the basement of a serial killer, Justin mugging for the camera, a very odd scene with people we don’t know throwing food at one another and clearly not having any real goals in life, and Justin mugging for two cameras. At the end of all this, we really haven’t learned much, other than the fact that the person who supposedly stole this footage might not understand the difference between “interesting” and “you will not get any hits on your renegade blog site if you keep posting crap like this”.
Then the actual song finally starts, and we are treated to a lineup of people who are very enthusiastic about standing next to a short fence whilst wearing bathing attire. Nicki comes on the soundtrack, where she name-checks herself and Justin a few times, then babbles something about money as the jittery camera tries to figure out what person, place or thing it should focus on. The camera finally settles on Justin, which is a good choice considering his people are paying the bills, and he shows us that he can sing and walk backwards at the same time. To show their appreciation for his skill, a throng of scantily-clad females are dancing around him and pretending to be at the peak of their hormonal cycle.
Eventually, Justin back-walks his way to a nifty little bridge that spans one of the many pools at what appears to be an aquatic nightclub. (This explains the bathing attire, but not much else.) The camera pans to the left, where we get to watch several lovely lasses do some synchronized swimming, proving that Justin has an artistic side. Then we’re back with Justin, as he continues singing while more lasses circle him and just bounce up and down, an activity that passes for “dancing” these days, because people are too busy texting to actually learn any real moves.
Then we zip over to… I’m not sure. Perhaps this is a training camp for budding Cirque du Soleil performers, but this camp is definitely fodder for some type of “before they were stars” episode on a cable TV channel. These folks are trying really hard, I’ll give them that, and there’s even some minimalist attempts at erotic pole-dancing and two very-dedicated girls who are twirling in mid-air, but I’m thinking their report cards are not going to be very good, even if they are written in French.
Back to Justin in another part of the water park, one that seems to be owned by the male species, with lots of guys doing strenuous gymnastics, backflips and such, that would probably get a cap in your ass if you pulled that crap in Compton. Then we zip over to a very shallow pool where Justin has decided that this part of the song can only be properly praised with a line dance. He has a mixed crowd for his backup dancers, so he gets points for equal opportunity, but he might have to lose a point for his refusal to do the same dance moves that everybody else is doing. (Look, if people behind you are doing triple backflips, you need to do more than snap your fingers , just sayin’.)
Now Justin is underwater, warbling to the camera, surrounded by more cheerleaders who have been bussed in from a local pep rally. Then they all break the surface so that four of the more coordinated cheerleaders can join hands and swim around him in a circle, which is rather festive, until Justin isn’t paying attention and backs up into one of the dolphin girls and causes her to break the circle of life. (I’m sure someone from her Union will be speaking to one of Justin’s people.) But for now, everyone is still friends, and the girls throw their legs in the air in a salute to Justin and all things a bit water-logged.
Whoops, now we’re back underwater, where some unseen people have left behind their cell phones, strategically placed on a convenient ledge so the camera can swim along and focus on them individually. They are all playing videos of Justin, naturally, because it just wouldn’t seem right if they were featuring Dolly Parton or documentaries about poverty and bad choices. Then we head back to the surface again, so Justin can do some more back-walking along a runway over one of the bigger pools, an aggressive maneuver that causes some of the male gymnasts to backflip into the water out of partial fear and partial desire to do something flamboyant and get asked to appear in the sequel.
Lo and behold, we have a nice surprise at the end of this runway, in the form of Nicki Minaj, who is posing in a nice flamingo-ballerina ensemble. She starts doing her usual sing-rap business, while a bevy of swimmers do something staged in the water behind her. Nicki is sporting what appears to be those pink Sno Ball snack cakes attached to her breasts, just in case we weren’t aware that she had a bosom. Justin rushes up to join her, because what young man doesn’t enjoy eating junk food?
Nicki raps a bit, with some racy lyrics that surprise absolutely no one. Justin suddenly steps out of view, possibly to accept another lifetime achievement award, leaving Nicki to do some choreography that involves touching her hair and waving her hands like somebody forgot to monitor her sugar intake. Then Justin steps back in and pseudo-humps Nicki from behind while she purrs “yeah” repeatedly.
Now we’re back to that shallow pool with the line dancers, where Justin isn’t doing a whole lot other than hold the camera while the posse behind him is doing calisthenics that would kill most people who don’t have a personal trainer. (There’s one red-headed girl who is so invested in her dance moves that I’m actually a little bit scared of her and what she could probably accomplish with the right weaponry.)
Oh wait, now Justin is actually doing the same moves. (Perhaps he got my memo?) This is satisfying for about three seconds, and then he resorts to just splashing the camera with chlorinated water. Even the producers are concerned that this might be a little weak, so we cut to more of that supposed “stolen personal footage” that kicked off this festival. It’s more of the same “this is fun but I’m not sure why we’re seeing this” business and, based on what appears to be the alcohol-fueled content of the goings-on, I’m guessing the “thief” must be one of the bartenders. Or the desperate producers.
Cut to Justin hurtling down one of those giant tube slides, with him giving a thumbs-up and holding the camera, proving that he really can play more than one musical instrument. He splashes into the pool at the bottom, and everyone for miles around erupts into a cheering mass of celebration that he has survived, well, something that everyone else at a water park has survived. I guess it’s more impressive to ride something that gives you a wet wedgie if you have 4 bazillion hits on the Internet.
Meanwhile, Nicki Minaj’s colorful breasts are available in a snack-vending machine near you. Just insert your coins and press D-2. Don’t expect any change, she doesn’t have time for that…
Click Here to Watch this Video on YouTube.