Coldplay – “Paradise”

  We start out with some sunset wildlife scenes, with animals traipsing around an African locale. It’s very cinematic and all, but then we start seeing fancy credits and I start to get nervous because I’m really not in the mood for an art film about poverty, animal injustice, and a political message that will force me to contemplate life. I just want to drink my beer, watch videos, and wail along with the songs until the po-po knock on my door and tell me to knock it off. (This is a skill I learned in college. That tuition money was well spent, let me tell ya.)

  Luckily, it seems that the fine Coldplay folks just want me to be happy, and we suddenly cut to the image of someone wearing an elephant costume and standing behind the metal bars of a gate somewhere. The Elephant Man looks very sad, even though his outfit is cute, and then Elbert turns to a nearby wall with the stick figures of three more elephants and a lot of hash marks. Elbert adds another mark to the count and continues to look sad.

  Is he keeping track of his days in captivity? Does he owe people money? Is he helping Coldplay count the millions they have made from record sales and merchandising ventures like Coldplay bath soap? Elbert doesn’t say, so perhaps his attorney has advised him to keep his mouth shut until after the trial is over.

  Elbert suddenly decides that he’s had enough of living wherever he is (it appears to be a zoo) and he breaks the tiny little lock on his cage door (it appears that the zoo is a bit lacking when it comes to security) and Elbert runs like the wind. Two guard-like people make a half-ass attempt to chase after Elbert, but they give up when he finds a bicycle lying conveniently nearby. (Everyone knows that once an elephant gains access to transportation, it’s a done deal and you might as well go back to whatever you were doing before all the running started.)

  Elbert rides the bike to a subway station, then he runs inside so he can hold up cardboard signs with the lyrics that lead singer Chris is now warbling. (No one bats an eye at this bit of business, because people in London are jaded and they’ve seen it all. Only people in small towns get excited over four-legged creatures holding cue cards.) We then kick off a montage of Elbert with the lyrics and Elbert riding the subway while absolutely no one pays him any mind, including a nun and what looks like Kevin Spacey after another questionable incident in a city park.

  Eventually Elbert gets off the subway at Heathrow, a quiet little airport where nothing much happens and there’s never any traffic. (Not.) Continuing with our theme of “nobody noticing the elephant in the room”, Elbert is able to dash across a runway in broad daylight and sneak aboard an airplane. (Meanwhile, on the human side of things, bitter security-screeners are shoving cattle prods at 3-year-olds and grandmothers because somebody might have a bomb hidden in their pacifier or hip replacement.)

  The plane takes off, and we have another montage of Elbert on his impromptu journey, snacking on spilled peanuts and riding on the luggage conveyor. Then the plane lands in an unnamed distant city, one also lacking in any type of serious security when it comes to pachyderms being where they shouldn’t be.

  Elbert pauses in his travels to stand outside a graffiti-soaked building and do some more business with those cardboard lyric signs. This session involves considerably more choreography than the first one, with Elbert showing off a lot of smooth dance moves that he must have picked up from watching 80’s movies about drugs and rhythm. He also has one of those “please give” boxes where people can throw coinage if they are inspired by his antics, a move he must have picked up watching the American banking industry screw things up for a decade or so and then fly in a private jet to Washington with their hands out.

  Then we have Elbert wandering down some street, and he happens to come across a bicycle shop. I guess he has a fondness for those things after one of them helped him with his big break, so he goes inside to find another little wheeled friend. Sadly, the only thing Elbert can afford (let’s not even ponder how he got the little money that he does have) is a unicycle. (Personal side note: I think unicycles are of the devil. There’s just something fundamentally wrong with those things.)

  Anyway, next thing you know we have Elbert trucking down the middle of a highway on the unicycle. He’s got his thumb out, trying to hitch a ride, but no one seems interested in allowing a strange elephant into their car. (Would you? Even if you’ve been drinking?) There is one point during this segment where Elbert takes off his elephant head so we can see that, yep, it’s Chris inside there. Or maybe it’s Gwyneth. Not sure, somebody blond. Apple, maybe? How old is she these days? If she’s old enough to get a job, she needs to be doing something.

  Oh wait, now Elbert seems to have made his way to the pretty African-plain place that we first visited in this video before we learned the story was going to involve animal-costume fetishes and illegal international travel. We see Elbert strolling along, carrying the unicycle instead of riding it (I told you those things were not right with Jesus). He comes upon a giraffe, who immediately runs away from him, which is a sad commentary on life if that creature is the only thing in the video thinking “there’s something a bit off with that elephant over there”.

  Then Elbert spies three figures in the distance, and he studies them for a second before hurling the wretched unicycle to the ground and running to greet the rest of the Coldplay band, all of them in elephant costumes. They immediately launch into a celebration of freedom, homecoming, the ability to easily locate friends in a vast continent with relatively few road signs, and the joys of having very long trunks that swing in the wind.

  This goes on for quite some time. These people are very happy to be reunited and it feels so good.

  We eventually transition to the band playing at a live concert, wearing just the elephant heads and banging away on their instruments. Judging by the way the audience members are having orgasms and doing backflips, the whole elephant thing has apparently become a very important part of the Coldplay touring experience. And it does look like a lot of fun, in an odd, “Sesame Street on acid” kind of way.

  The final shot is back in Africa, with the band members in full elephant-mode, running toward the camera with a startling intensity. The image of the one elephant with the polka-dot ears and the John Lennon glasses is probably my favorite, and I hope he wins for supporting actor at the MTV awards. Unless he hops on a unicycle. Then all bets are off…

Click Here to Watch this Video on YouTube.

Coldplay - “Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall”

We start out with the sun rising over a city skyline, then we drop down near a brick building where someone has drawn that same scene on the wall. Then the drawing comes to life, with colors oozing out, dripping down, and traveling across the ground to a pillar, where we find lead singer Chris leaning against it and belting the song. That was kind of cool, I’m good with things so far.

The colors turn into letters on the walls and floor, which spell out the lyrics in that weird stop-motion way they had in old Sinbad movies where people killed giant, mean animals, which is probably not where the producers meant for me to go. The time-lapse thing also makes Chris look like he’s having a small but continuous seizure, another concept that probably wasn’t in the script vision. It’s very, very busy.

This goes on for a while, and probably took about three years to shoot, with Chris wandering all over the place and trying to remember exactly where he was standing as they stop and add another letter to a wall or pillar. It’s very bright and colorful, in a primary-school manner that was probably designed by little Apple. (Well, I’m assuming that Apple is still little. Just how long has it been since Gwyneth gave birth to produce?)

No surprise, this keeps going on for a while, with aggressive colors and letters invading the entire old building. They finally bring out the rest of the band members, which does add an element of newness, but we’re still basically seeing the same thing with the stop-motion, some unseen artist running out to add another splash of yellow, then the cameras starting up again with people an inch or so out of place, just enough to make you wonder if the oysters you had for lunch were a little off.

Just as I’m starting to think that I’m really not psychologically prepared for all this constant jerkiness, Chris turns and dashes into an open doorway, which magically leads to what might be a nightclub. It’s hard to tell, because now the annoyance factor has turned to somebody screwing around with flashing blacklights, but at least we now have something of a proper stage, with the rest of the band banging away.

We also have day-glo paint. Everywhere. An explosion of symbols and such all over the walls and whatever else they could reach with a paintbrush. Which makes the person flipping the black-lights on and off even more worthy of a harsh prison sentence, since your mind slightly fries every time the lights flash on. But Chris doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he seems to be energized by the new set, bopping and bouncing while he continues to wail. How nice for him. Then he gets tired of that, and we’re back outside for some more stop-motion mess, this time making Chris travel all over the grounds without actually moving his feet. Based on the smirky grin on his face, I’m assuming this was his favorite part of the production.

Then we’re back in the day-glo disco, probably because they hired the black-light switch-flipper for the whole day and they might as well get their money’s worth. Chris bounces some more, the band keeps things percussive and upbeat, and the cameraman shows us 512 different angles of the same stage.

Back outside again, with the whole band this time, and more splatters and dribbles of paint. We also have the exciting introduction of stop-motion paint being thrown on the side of the building, all four or five stories of it. (I’m guessing this structure has been earmarked for demolition. Otherwise, somebody has some serious explaining to do.)

And that’s about it. We now have a long montage of all the previous scenes, with the day-glo and the lettering and the mind-of-it’s-own paint which has now taken on a slightly-demonic cachet and could possibly star in a slasher movie. (Rainbows of Death!) We wind down with the band members slowly disappearing from the jam session, until we just have the drummer, appropriate for how the song ends. Then he abruptly vanishes as well.

Please exit the ride on your left side. Thank you.


Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Coldplay - “Viva La Vida”

We start with what looks like the image of an unfolding rose, which is pretty and all, but then it sort of changes into…I don’t know what that is. But before I can figure it out, we cut to lead singer Chris Martin wearing a very serious expression and studying something off to his side that we can’t see. But we can see that something appears to be odd about the texture of the video, and this is confirmed when we get a closeup of somebody banging on a drum, and the drum skin has that crackle effect that was popular on walls a few years ago. Did Martha Stewart direct this video from her prison cell?

Chris sings for a while, as we get quick images of other band members banging and stroking instruments. Then the band members start shoving their guitars and such directly at us, very dramatically, so I’m thinking maybe this thing was supposed to be in 3-D, but somebody forget to do something important. Like make the 3-D work.

The technology glitch apparently doesn’t matter, because Chris is determined for us to get the effect anyway, constantly waving his arms around and thrusting his hands at the camera. He looks a bit overly-frenetic while he’s doing this, and his actions do nothing to dispel the odd rumor I once heard that Chris Martin is actually Paula Abdul on crack.

Chris also likes to bounce. I mean really, really bounce. And thrust about. Incessantly. I understand that the rhythm of the song is infectious, and some people naturally express their appreciation of a good song by shaking their groove thing, but really, Chris, do you need to make it look like you and Gwyneth are procreating another child, this one named Starfruit?

And there he goes with shoving his hands at the camera again. Despite the stirring emotion of the story, this bit of theatricality is starting to annoy me. I don’t like to feel mildly threatened while listening to a pop song with a Spanish title. It’s just not something that I look forward to. So stop it.

Short bit where Chris does pushups incorrectly.

And somebody else keeps banging on a cast-iron bell. Is it time for supper?

Then we slip into the really dramatic part of the song. Everybody is still basically doing the same things, it’s just louder. Oh, and they let us see the screen waving behind them, which has images just like the album cover. That’s a nice touch. I still don’t really understand what this song is about or why the band is dressed in vaguely French-Revolution era couture, but at least the confusion is consistent.

Geez, that one dude really loves that damn bell. I wonder what happened in his childhood that led to this?

Oh no, it appears that Chris may have stepped on a live wire that some idiot left stretched across the stage. His arms are flailing and his eyes are rolling back in his head. Poor guy. I may not care for his dancing, but I certainly don’t wish him electrical harm. That would just be rude.

We cut away to the other band members, all of whom have that requisite “I’m really bored out of my skull but I’m going to pretend like I’m having a swell time when the camera turns my way” look, an expression that all non-lead band members have to learn how to make per union rules. I’m assuming we’re cutting away so that medics can rush out and patch up Chris so he can finish the video shoot. Time is money, people.

Okay, Chris is back singing, and for the first time I notice a giant “V” on part of his shirt that is mostly hidden by his French Lieutenant’s Woman’s jacket. I don’t know if that symbol was always there, or it’s the result of his recent shock therapy, or if he really, really likes sci-fi series concerning Lizard People taking over the planet and making us all wear uninteresting clothing. Whatever the case, Chris has modified his dancing to now emulate a mime who has taken too much sinus medication. Okay, maybe a mime that doesn’t understand he’s not actually supposed to speak.

Then Chris gets a really bad migraine and has to hold his head in his heads. (This is really just not his day.) Luckily, the moment passes just in time for Chris to pretend that he is a marionette during the “puppet on a string” bit of the song. He’s very convincing at not having any life in his body. He must have taken classes or something.

Whoa, where the hell did Chris get all those rubber bracelets? Has Madonna been doing some spring cleaning?

Anyway, the song goes on for a while, with nothing really new to discuss. Chris is still pogo-ing around the stage, the band members are thrusting violin bows and guitar arms at us, and supper is getting cold and the bell-ringer is getting frustrated with our tardiness. (There is one quick shot of Chris singing the “St. Peter” part of the song while grasping at his crotch. I would normally get three paragraphs out of a move like that, but it’s getting late and I don’t have time for that.)

Short update from the Weather Channel. Something about a hurricane headed toward where the band is playing. Then it’s over and no one dies. Yay.

We finally get to that fun group chorus thing at the end where the whole band sings together, and you can see that they were all waiting for this part. The rest of the band goes from Slacker Cool to Glee Club in two seconds, wailing away with really wide mouths and their heads thrown back like they’re in the throes of extreme personal satisfaction. Good for them.

The song ends, and then we get short clips of the individual band members. Each just stands there for a bit, then they look off to the left while what looks like little rose petals fly off their bodies in slow-motion.

I have no idea.

Fin.


Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.

Coldplay - “Christmas Lights”

  Preliminary Note: Just before watching this for the first time, I noticed a YouTube comment from somebody claiming “the fish eating the boat is the best part!”. What the hell? What am I getting into with this one?

  We start out with the camera focused on an old phonograph, with somebody getting ready to play a record of Cold play’s “Christmas Lights”. Okay, that’s what I’m wanting to hear, so that’s good. A mysterious hand gets things going, and we pan down to a strange piano that is playing by itself. Aside from the paranormal angle, we’re also distracted by all of the keys having been painted different colors back in about 1918. Hmmm.

  Camera moves away from the piano and we pan along the band members lying on their backs on old wooden floor. (What, they’re too lazy to actually perform in this video? Was the mayo bad in the tuna salad? Has Gwyneth put them in time-out?) We finally get to lead singer Chris, and he starts singing while still laying there. I spy an “X” on one of the floorboards near his head, and I find myself much more interested in what might be under that floorboard than where the rest of this video is going. I need to focus.

  Chris is singing really low on this part of the song, and I’m straining to hear, so it’s kind of a relief when the camera pans away. Sadly, we’re back at the creepy piano that is being played by the Ghost of Christmas Past, or maybe his cousin, the Ghost of Videos Where You’re Not Sure What Is Going On. The camera pulls back, and we see that Chris is still on the floor, but the rest of the band is gone. (I didn’t receive a memo on where they might have went.)

  Suddenly, Chris levitates from the floor into a standing position. Oh? There is just something really wrong with this place. Chris isn’t bothered that his body was just transported against his will, and he starts playing this Piano of the Dead. The camera pans again, and we see a nice, billowy red curtain, which is hopefully not possessed. The curtain parts, and hey, there’s the rest of the band. They’re playing their little instruments on an old-timey stage. There are cut-out props shaped like buildings in the background, and for some reason I think of Istanbul. I’m probably supposed to think of something else, but I’m very confused.

  The guys jam for a bit as the camera moves backwards so we can get a better gander at this stage thing, and we can see that there are some pretty Chinese lights strung across the stage. Okay, are we supposed to be thinking of Christmas around the world? Not sure. The camera moves back in so we can watch Istanbul slide into the wings, and then we have an apparent ocean and a moon rising out of the water. Suddenly, three drunken Elvis’s zip by while playing violins.

  Did anybody talk to Graceland about this?

  The camera pulls back again so we can see that the band is still playing, but that wasn’t really necessary since we can hear them the whole time. Then we zoom in on Chris still banging on that piano, and he’s singing to somebody that must be in the balcony because he sure doesn’t want to look at us. In the back of the stage, the Elvis’s zip by again, followed by one of Lisa Marie’s lawyers.

  Oh wait, there’s that boat getting eaten by a giant fish. Well, then. I can’t really say it was the most exciting development in this video, filled as it was with carnage and violence, but I’ll agree that it was unexpected.

  Chris gives up the piano and moves closer to his mates, allowing for a great photo-op. The camera pulls back from the stage, pretty far, so we can see there’s a little marquee above the stage with the words “Credo Elvem Etiam Vivere”. I’m sure there are scholarly people who can interpret this slogan for us, but I’m going to assume it means some character from “The Lord of the Rings” is now living in Las Vegas and helping Santa deliver presents.

  The camera pulls back far enough that we can see buildings in the distance over the top of the theatre. One of them looks like the Capitol Building, but I’m going to assume that it’s not, since we’re dealing with British folk who would prefer that the Pilgrims had just stayed home and sucked it up like everybody else. The camera zooms back in on the band, still doing their thing. Now we’ve got fake snow falling down, but it’s clearly just scraps of shredded newspaper, so the magic is a bit thin. But Chris is wearing a carnation, and that makes everything better.

  The fake newspaper bits fall for a while. Somebody was really invested in this part of the goings on.

  Then the camera pans to the left, and we’re looking at what I’m guessing is the River Thames. There’s a triple-decker boat floating about, with tons of people on the top deck releasing balloons at just the right lyrical moment. Fireworks light up the sky, which isn’t really something we do in the Colonies during the Yuletide season, but it’s very festive.

  Now we’re zooming back into the old-timey theatre, with the Elvis’s playing their violins with a passion and more fireworks exploding from where the seats should be if there had been an actual audience. Chris is really interested in doing hand movements over his head, so we’ll assume that this part of the song is super important to him.

  The curtain closes, the camera gives us another glimpse of the creepy piano, and then pans over the top of the theatre so we can see the cityscape once again. More fireworks explode as the music fades and, presumably, Tiny Tim convinces Scrooge that world peace is possible as long as everyone has enough figgy pudding…

Click Here to Watch the Video on YouTube.