We start out with
a quick, off-center image of Hunter, making us think that the cinematographer
might be a wee bit drunk, then we cut to him sitting at a piano where the
lyrics of the song are scribbled all over said piano. I can understand that
some folks are a bit nervous when they perform and might forget things like
words and the proper payment of income taxes, but seriously, what’s up with
this Hooked On Phonics flashback
tribute?
And with that
last sentence I immediately lose everyone that is under the age of 40. Oh well.
We then get some
more quick shots of I’m not sure what, with one of the black-and-white scenes
being splashed with this dripping red color as Hunter stares at the camera.
It’s probably meant to be artsy and such, but for some reason I think of the TV
series Dexter. (This was probably not
the intention of the art director, my bad.) Then the drunk cinematographer
finally finds the focus button and we get a good profile of Hunter. His age is
not clear, but I’m reminded of another TV series, Doogie Howser.
Who is this child
and why is he singing songs? Have I missed another important cultural moment
while I was bingeing on bean dip and watching reruns of Buffy? Probably, it happens quite often. So I pause the video and
google the doogie. Turns out that Hunter has been performing since the age of 5
and has released something like 74 albums. He’s now 21 and has done more with
his life in roughly 15 seconds than most of us will ever do. Great. Another
reminder that I didn’t listen to the right people when making important life
decisions.
My soul damaged,
I push the “play” button again.
Hunter continues
playing the piano (another swipe at my useless list of personal skills) for a
while, alternating with scenes where he’s just singing in a lovely voice (swipe
number 2). Then we start getting shots of Hunter driving a motorcycle while a
supermodel clings to him and allows her hair to be caressed by the wind in a
manner that makes it clear she uses a much better conditioner than the rest of
us do.
Eventually we
make our way back to the recording studio where they have all that helpful
graffiti, where we learn that some of the important words in the song have been
highlighted in red. I try to memorize these words in case Alex Trebek has a
question for me, but snippets like “love” and “beautiful” and “sushi” don’t
make any sense to me and I prepare myself for another failed test.
Oh wait, now we
have some images (still mostly in black-and-white) of some place where they
have a chandelier and someone is doing something with what might be a
calligraphy pen or a scalpel, not sure. We do seem to have a scroll of paper
that is rolling off a desk where Hunter or the supermodel or a Franciscan monk
appears to be sitting and scribbling, but the words that we can see have been
drenched in more of that blood-red color, so I’m still not feeling completely
safe in this environment.
More of the
graffiti piano, with a long-shot letting us know that there are also graffiti
panels hanging around the room where Hunter is tickling the keys and reminding
us that he has a marketable skill and we clearly do not. Then we focus on a
blurry image of what might be Ally Sheedy back in the day when she was still
perky and not doing lesbian art films. Oh wait, it’s not Ally, it’s the
supermodel, and now we’re back to the motorcycle. Hunter and the supermodel
(she really needs a name, let’s call her…Callie) are dashing about the streets
of whatever town and looking really trendy on their two-wheeler.
To make sure that
we understand that Hunter and Callie are in love forever, Callie is clutching
not only Hunter’s non-fat waist but also a rose that has been niftily
colored-in with red by some low-paid worker in China or some other country
where the peon workers are supposed to just do their job and not ask for things
like better wages or free wi-fi. We have additional shots of Callie’s
wind-blown locks in case you missed it the first time around that she has
better hair than most of the planet.
Next up is Hunter
driving his chopper into a garage where the door is painted in stripes of black
and red. Callie apparently runs off to do something important like hydrate her
skin, because she disappears for a while as Hunter rolls out more scrolls of
paper where he (or some assistant) has scribbled more of the lyrics. Then we
head back to the graffiti recording studio where you never have to remember
your lines because the furnishings act as cue cards.
This is followed
by an inexplicable series of shots where Callie, sitting in a café, appears to
be sharing a latte and good bone structure with someone who is NOT Hunter. I
don’t know what that mess is all about, but they sure seem to be having a good
time and this montage threatens to derail whatever the producers intended. So
we head back to the graffiti recording studio where Hunter is wailing and
pounding the piano to remind us that Hunter is the star of this video and not
some meaningless stud that Callie made nice with while picking out croissants
in a neighborhood bistro.
Hunter sings for
a very long time, since the camera is currently on his face and not the
competition, but we’re distracted by images of blood-red words falling out of
the sky while he basically makes a woman out of the piano. (Got wood?) I understand
that the redness is symbolic of love, but you should do a little more planning
if you don’t want that redness to make things look like a video that would
receive kudos from Jack the Ripper.
Hunter doesn’t
care about my input, and he probably shouldn’t, since MY greatest achievement
in life has been simply avoiding arrest at just the right times. But still,
dude, you’re coming off a little manic with the red thing and the words of the
song flying around like Dorothy and Toto just landed. To be fair, Hunter really
seems to be invested in his artistry, and he appears to be making all the
proper facial expressions right on cue, so we might just have to blame the
director or maybe one of those corporate people who don’t know squat about
anything but have somehow been given a position of power. (Kind of like Donald
Trump with that lame-ass “Apprentice” thing.)
Then we have a
long sequence where the blood-words continue to rain out of the sky while
Hunter pounds the keys and emotes and reminds us of what it was like when we
all still had a respectable amount of hair. Obviously, no one is listening to
me or my suggestions. This is probably a wise choice in most countries.
We finally get to
a bit where the word “want” becomes the focus in all the red graffiti, along
with a red carpet that appears to lead to Hunter and his piano. He winds down
with the singing and the key-pounding, and then apparently wanders off to a
place where gifted people sit on a couch and wait for their talent to be
recognized and supermodels to make a decision about which boyfriend makes the
best cup of coffee…
Click Here to Watch
this Video on YouTube.
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