you know every so often how something totally amazing and supercool happens?
like when madonna says she's divorcing guy ritchie. or when cadbury's finally decide to bring back wispa gold. when you get sent to new york for the first time since you popped out of the ladygarden or when you lose your brand new iphone in a club because you're too "happy", only to discover its been picked up by a flock of angels disguised as uni students who then offer to return it to you.
yeah. amazing shit happens occasionally.
just like when tina turner made the video for 'private dancer' in 1991.
some have theorised turner's power lies in her hair (a la samson), others say it's in her legs but i'd guess it's probably her mouth.
look at it throughout this practically unparalleled triumph in 80s weirdness. (i know it's '91 so not technically BORN in the 80s. but it's clearly made by people who are still on a truckload of hallucinogens AND amphetamines. and calvin harris is doucheturd. except when he's producing.)
turner's mouth is where the magic happens. it's so fucking powerful she decides to not even put lipstick on (0:09). she's not in need of lipstick. it would only hinder the sheer brilliance that is to come.
if we're going to try and make some sort of sense of this insanity (and unless you just overdosed on wham bars, you're going to have no sense worth having) here's some sense:
sensible narrative- tina is some prozzy who is so tired of this old game that she doesn't even need to dance with people anymore. she just swishes through, hair the size of a small country and mouth a-sneering at the slags around her. she wants OUT OF THIS DAMN BINGO HALL.
christmas cracker crazy narrative - at 0:52 tina enters a dream/drug/descent into insanity sequence which looks eerily like that cool bit from Labyrinth with david bowie. ironic really because tina (with that hair) is looking oddly like jareth the goblin king. extra shoulder pads equal extraamazingpointsLOADS.
in this otherworld of sweetmimes and beautifuldouchebags tina is basically accosted by varying oddballs in fancy dress. it's particularly boss when tophat-wanker douses her with glitterspunk (1:15) and she legs it because she don't need that shit. we've all been there.
we've all been danced at by little gay sailors too. what's their deal? are they just gay because of being on a ship with a bunch of boys? so they're not really gay. not "gay-gay" as someone black and called whoopi might say. either way, tina 'aint having none of that fucking bullshit. that sailor can go have furtive wank behind the bike sheds of the HMS Pinafore with some blotchy bloke called LeeO. orgasm currency FAIL.
the wackiness continues. all the while tina's mouth is working brilliantly. a masterclass in aquiline ferocity. (sidenote: she's a massive buddhist too. yeah totally into that prayer wheel sing-song shit. watch her work dem chants 'ERE)
but the drugs are about to wear off. tina is pelted with roses and applauded by the coterie of weirdos/fags/circus folk. only to awaken from her reverie back in the bingo hall. where she suddenly remembers she's forgot to watch something important (clue: it's x-factor).
i enjoyed that. i hope you did too.
ps - are you a MARS or a SNICKERS?
NEVER TRUST someone who answers "bounty".