Jennifer Jason Leigh Lovefest (JJLL): Rush (1991)

When we first meet Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Kristen in Rush, we’re watching her through a fence as she’s being doubted. The film invites us, like Jason Patric’s veteran narco, to think that this woman isn’t going to be up for a job, before she blows past her male opponents on the track on which she’s training. That’s kind of the recurring theme for this movie, and it’s a familiar one in the tradition of “Don’t call me Babe!” But it works here because of what we see of JJL in the next scene – she’s passive, quiet, and scared.


A typical JJL performance pits her as a woman who struggles with her desires, who is vulnerable but exhibits unusual bravery. There are usually drugs and sex – sometimes gratuitous – and JJL  embraces these highs and lows and has ever since playing a teenager in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Here, JJL is a cop who is tough but doesn’t act it: that role goes to the assured fuck-up Jim Rayner, played with occasionally excessive intensity by Jason Patric. The strength of Patric’s performance is how JL responds to him, and the way her confidence comes and goes as she gets deeper into doomed romance and the heroin addiction that comes with it. It’s easier to be impressed by Patric’s tics and shakes and shudders, but Leigh is the one who owns up to how awful she feels and tries to keep her emotional and physical earthquake from showing.


There’s no scene where, like the pipsqueak Hooks in the Police Academy movies, she flips the switch of repressed rage. She likes being scared, she tells Rayner, in a Texas accent that it feels like the character is a bit ashamed of. Rush came out at the end of 1991, the same year that Jodie Foster would appear in Silence of the Lambs. Like Foster’s Clarice Starling, JJL’s Kristen is a smart woman of a dubious past with ambitions that lead her to the lairs of dark people. It’s easy to see JJL playing Clarice – she’s only a bit younger than Foster and has a similar intelligence, stoic but often unglamorous beauty, and vulnerability and toughness that are identical. Foster won her second Oscar for Silence, while Leigh has only been nominated once for her supporting role in The Hateful Eight. While Foster was working with Jonathan Demme at the top of his game, Leigh had to create her own luck by pursuing unconventional roles in uncommercial films. After Silence, Foster struggled with a string of high-profile duds like Sommersby and Maverick, and has really never had the right kind of role since. In choosing a career in mostly independent movies, JJL thrived and yet never became a big box office name – in this case working with Lili Fini Zanuck in the only feature film she ever directed. The wife of grand producing poobah Richard Zanuck, this might be seen as nepotism, but the film is unpretentious, unromantic, and solid (it depends too much on its Eric Clapton-heavy classic rock score, and it’s mostly known today as the movie that gave us Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven,” which seems kind of out of place given that it’s about the death of his son). But it never ascends into the kind of operatics you expect from a movie with this kind of heavy material.


Intriguingly, the early 90s  were a  good time for young stars to play smart and capable but haunted cops – alongside Leigh and Foster, we could also include Jamie Lee Curtis in Kathryn Bigelow’s Blue Steel. All three of their movies feature women trying to establish themselves to male superiors (Sam Elliott, Scott Glenn, and a cadre of suits in Blue Steel). All three feature the women struggling with their desires for violent, dangerous men. It’s the last part of this formula that I like the least – I think I’d prefer a Clarice Starling movie that doesn’t have Anthony Hopkins’ stagy Hannibal Lektor. But even if they had to share the stage, it was a welcome sign that strong women in the movies didn’t have to carry machine guns or karate-kick Roger Moore to show that power.

(You can watch RUSH on Tubi, with ads, for free; it’s a pretty good service and the ads aren’t overwhelming.)


March for Kentucky

Greetings Kentucky Colleagues!

You may have heard about the student-led protest in Frankfort this Thursday. It will meet at 10 A.M. at Kentucky State University. They have opened up the parking lot at the football stadium for protestors. The march will begin there and will end at the Capitol building. As the article I link below states, “A group of Murray State Students are organizing a march in Frankfort later this month in opposition to Kentucky Gov. Matt Bevin’s proposed 9 percent cut to higher education funding.” These students are working on extended information to other institutions, and I’m trying to help them out.

We are expecting a great crowd, and have already attracted a fair amount of media attention. We are excited about being heard and the community of students and faculty who can join us. I’m including a list of links below that have more information about the event. Please do not hesitate to contact me ( if you have any further questions.

The Facebook page for the event with updated information (you do not have to have a Facebook Account to see this information)

An article from our NPR affiliate about Murray State students involved in the protest:

A letter from Kentucky State President Raymond M. Burse

An editorial by MSU faculty member Jeff Osborne in the Paducah Sun

Gofundme page for supporting transportation for involved students

A recent article in the New York Times


Andy Black

Assistant Professor, English and Philosophy

Murray State University


Best Movies of 2013


It’s April, so of course I’m finally posting my top ten movies of the year. 2013 was my favorite year for movies in a long time, probably since 2007. So here we go

Didn’t Like as Much as Everyone Else: Spring Breakers (hated), Gravity, Nebraska, Room 237

Haven’t seen: Before Midnight, Blue is the Warmest Color, Stories We Tell, The Act of Killing, The Spectacular Now, Mud,

Honorable Mention:  The Great Gatsby,Enough Said, Star Trek Into Darkness, Dallas Buyers Club, Short Term 12

  • No. 10: To the Wonder

Terrence Malick’s least ambitious movie is still a pensive and often beautiful look at domesticity. I’d be happy if he made one of these a year. Though the suburban spaces try to suppress the lyricism and poetry typical to Malick’s film, they still find a way to exist. If the houses and communities these characters inhabit are built for economy rather than beauty, the movie is not. As Roger Ebert said in the last review he ever wrote, “Snatches of dialogue, laughter, shared thoughts, drift past us. Nothing is punched up for dramatic effect . . . There will be many who find “To the Wonder” elusive and too effervescent. They’ll be dissatisfied by a film that would rather evoke than supply. I understand that, and I think Terrence Malick does, too. But here he has attempted to reach more deeply than that: to reach beneath the surface, and find the soul in need.” I agree.

  • No. 9: American Hustle

A joy to watch. David O. Russell smartly turns this complicated con-artist story into a movie more interested in who these strivers, dreamers, and schemers are. It’s as though Russell knew there were two movies that could be made, and choose the better one. So what if you don’t know how ABSCAM worked, when you get Louis CK and Bradley Cooper yelling at each other? Russell returns to a group of actors he’s handled before (other than Jeremy Renner), and they’re all typically great. They have amazing scenes together and apart. Each of them attempts to win the movie, and that scene-stealing is appropriate for a movie that’s essentially about stealing. Also, any movie that begins with a freshly fat Christian Bale putting on a hair-piece, followed by a slow-motion walking sequence set to Steely Dan’s Dirty Work is going to earn my favor.

  • No. 8: Drinking Buddies

The breakout mumble-core movie of 2013 works because of aimless, articulate, but likable characters – the genre’s best contribution. It’s the most accurate title of the year: Jake Johnson and Olivia Wilde are drinking buddies and would-be lovers, and everyone around them either tries to elevate them or is disappointed by them. They’re kind of happy but not really. The characters make bad decisions because they don’t know what they want. Joe Swanberg has always made the most sexually explicit mumble-core movies (Hannah Takes the Stairs, Nights and Weekends), but here there’s rarely a moment of intimacy and a lot of awkward encounters. The Dissolve called it “aggressively inconsequential,” but I don’t find anything aggressive about this at all. The characters lives are inconsequential, but they’re finely drawn and examined without strong judgment but with compassion. My fear has always been that mumble-core will escape its gritty trappings and get lost in ambition and money, but Drinking Buddies gives me hope for these grander possibilities.

  • No. 7: The Counselor

The hatred for The Counselor might be understandable, since its trailers made it look like a John Grisham movie instead of a typically elliptical and dark text written by Cormac McCarthy. This one offers none of the economy and clarity of No Country For Old Men, even though its plot trapping seem more familiar (lawyer and the mob, etc.). As a movie about ambition, it’s almost Shakespearean, right down to the revealing and literary monologues. It’s a tragedy populated by people we don’t really even like or know that well. I was entranced. My only complaint is with Cameron Diaz’s performance (though not the character as written): other than the one scene where she has, er, fun with a car, the film only further elucidates her weaknesses as a dramatic actress. But Ridley Scott brings the right amount of gloss and competence to a movie that resists easy interpretation.

  • No. 6: Frances Ha

If there were any fairness in the Academy Award nominations, Meryl Streep would not have gotten nominated for existing and being in a movie and Greta Gerwig would have been a serious contender (Cate Blanchett probably should have won anyway, but still). For some, this was their introduction to Gerwig as a serious talent; for the rest of us, this is further validation of her presence as the brightest young actress working. As the aimless and irresponsible Frances, Gerwig dances, fake-fights, gets bored, works as a secretary, rooms with two dudes, and runs around with her arms flailing. She never stops showing the loneliness of this character, even when she’s crazy energetic. And even though the movie is about a woman wandering and often failing, it’s a really happy move, largely because of that spirit. Gerwig co-wrote with her director and new boyfriend and normally sad-sackian Noah Baumbach, and it has the same style and energy as its protagonist.

  • No. 5: The Wolf of Wall Street

Many loathed the way Martin Scorsese made us sympathize with robber baron Jordan Belfort. But I find it key to his deployment of one of the most classic elements of American mythos – the Horatio Alger story – and the familiar narrative constructions of Goodfellas and Casino, to which this film ends (although hopefully not) a trilogy. With the same rise and fall structure, the same stylistic excess, Scorsese equates the junk bond-hawkers with the mafia. If we like Jordan, it’s because we like this kind of story, and Scorsese invites us to identify with him only to question and be challenged by the way this narrative works when it involves such reprehensible dealings. The best argument against the movie comes from my friend Porter, who claims that the FBI’s plot against Jordan is a fantasy of good ol’ Federal containment at its best – here comes the cavalry! – and he has a point. But we have to be reminded that this is Jordan’s story: unlike Goodfellas and Casino, the narrative never shifts. He’s telling us how he got away with it and how he can be caught, and the awkwardly rhetorical and confessional nature of his story gets carried away with all his bragging and posturing. Remember that the title “The Wolf of Wall Street” comes from a Forbes article about him. This is Belfort’s attempt to control the story, which he often fails to do. It’s also one of the funniest movies of the year: at times, the visual language recalls and DiCaprio’s physical performance recalls the screwball comedies of the 30s and 40s.

  • No. 4: Her

Wistful, sweet, and visually inventive, Her is the movie for our technological moment (just as Computer Chess is the movie for our technological past). Spike Jonze takes the concept seriously, rather than constantly reminding us of the cleverness. In addition to Theodore Twombly and “Samantha,” the film meditates on all kinds of relationships, not merely with technology. After all, Theodore writes letters not only out of obligation, but also because it allows him a virtual window into a meaningful connection. The characters are not vehicles for philosophy or the high concept, but are finely drawn and often interesting crack the narrative and visual framework. Her presents a largely clean and aseptic utopia in which we’ve all accepted that computers can solve our problems, then turns that on its head by giving computers emerging problems of their own. In that way, the movie it should be compared to (and never is) to The Terminator: in both, we see the clash between controlling and being controlled by non-human forms of consciousness. Its sweetness comes from the great Arcade Fire score, Joaquin Phoenix’ toning down his manic force into shy neediness, and Amy Adams’ warmth.

  •  No. 3: 12 Years a Slave

Attacked by some as Oscar-bait; they couldn’t be more wrong, even if it dominated those awards discussions. This is an intense, provocative look at a subject that isn’t usually filmed. As a film subject, slavery often gets unfairly lumped with civil rights era movies, of which there are many. But the last significant movie to address slavery seriously (other than Django Unchained, which is an action movie) was Jonathan Demme’s adaptation of Beloved. The film doesn’t pull punches on the brutality, and captures the powerlessness of slaves. In fact, a consistent criticism of the film is that (spoiler) a white man ensures Solomon’s slavery. But that’s part of the point: Solomon’s escape doesn’t come so much through his own courage or agency as endurance and even participation in these senseless and indefensible conditions. His only chance at freedom is through someone who isn’t defined as “property” – this comes straight out of Northup’s book. The movie avoids speechifying or overly virtuous representations. Chiwetel Ejiofor brings the right mix of stoic resolve and suppressed anger to Solomon. As the movie ends, we’re told more grim facts about his life and failed attempts to bring about justice to those who sold him into slavery. Part of me wishes McQueen had filmed this too. This is a dark, necessary movie.

  • No. 2: Computer Chess

Mumblecore godfather Andrew Bujalski took a risk with this loopy, often absurd, frequently hilarious look at a bunch of nerds in the early 80s playing chess through their computers. I’m reminded of that bit in the Simpsons bit with the “Grand Nationals of Sand Castle Building Preview” where an announcer, says, “You know, this year, everyone’s abuzz about one thing: the absence of Mark Rodkin . . . oh wait, there he is.” In a way, Computer Chess is like turning that line into a movie. The result is that Computer Chess has the dramatic urgency of a sports movie, which is made all the more compelling once we accept the sense of seriousness and inevitable celebrities that can only exist within this weird culture. But the like Her, it’s a meditation on mediation and identity and the way all that changes when we explore and attempt to think about technology on a deeper level. The film’s DIY style meshes perfectly with subject; this is no art movie, it’s the one of the most entertaining movies of recent memory.

  • No. 1: Inside Llewyn Davis

The Coen Brothers’ best work in years (which is saying a lot) once again captures a milieu with a mix of artificial regionalism and naturalistic realism. Its bleakness is offset by the hopefulness of the music, and the Coens show the way it became a part of business and commercial interests and could not be contained by it. Played by Oscar Isaac in what I think is the year’s best performance (he sings!), Llewyn is kind of a jerk, but he’s also floundering and lost and trying to make a life through the integrity he refuses to give up. Even though the Coens make him suffer, they still like him. All the performances are great, and the film is a funny and loving pastiche of beat and folk cultures. This scene might be my favorite and the funniest of any movie this year:

The aesthetic riffs on the cover of Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, but the glorious style extends to road-side diners and academic’s apartments. The mix of hope and misery made it seem schizophrenic to some, but I was compelled every step of the way.


Alternate Oscars – 1976

I’m going to start picking what should have won the Oscar in a given year. At first, I thought I should provide a lengthy description of why I’m doing this, but that seems pointless: I’m doing it because I think it’s kind of fun to think about. The Academy Awards are pointless and infuriating, but their existence prompts conversations about movies, which is basically what this is. These are argument starters. Here are some criteria:

  • I choose the year using this random number generator. I’m starting with 1970, just because, and it’s unlikely I’ll go any further back.
  • I’m limiting myself to the big three categories: Best Picture, Best Actor, and Best Actress, though I might mention an oversight here or there.
  • I’ll be referring to (and in some cases will be inspired by) Danny Peary’s wonderful but sadly out of print book Alternate Oscars, in which he does what I’m doing only in detail and better. All of Peary’s choices are listed here.
  •  I’ll be sticking to five nominees in each category, no matter how it actually played out. I still insist this is the best way to do it, and Mark Harris offers a more persuasive argument than I can.
  • My choices will be neither entirely objective or subjective. I might pick something because it captured the zeitgeist, or I might pick something because it’s an unquestioned classic. Or not. The academy has whims and so do I. But time has shown us that Out of Africa and Gandhi are boring but “important” movies that no one talks about anymore while Dazed and Confused and Memento are awesome and increasingly relevant, so I’m in a better position to judge that than they were.
  • In other words, I have hindsight – as I do below, I might be political in giving the award to someone who gives a knockout performance over someone who will be frequently nominated.
  • Just to narrow things a bit, I’m going to stick to American or English releases, and keep “foreign film” in its own category. The Academy is weird about this, as you’ll see below, in which two actresses from foreign films were nominated, and one of those foreign films (Face to Face) clearly could have been a favorite for best picture. I don’t really have a rationale for doing this, it just seems like it makes things less complicated. If a film has American or British actress or an American or British production company/distribution (like The Artist or Life is Beautiful), I might reconsider.

With that said, here’s my first year: 1976

Best Actress

  • Their pick: Faye Dunaway, Network
  • Nominees: Marie-Christine Barrault (Cousine, Cousin), Talia Shire, (Rocky), Sissy Spacek (Carrie), Liv Ullman (Face to Face)
  • My pick: Sissy Spacek, Carrie
  • Nominees: Geraldine Chaplin (Welcome to L.A.), Faye Dunaway (Network), Audrey Hepburn (Robin and Marian), Talia Shire (Rocky)


Dunaway’s power-tripping and amoral programming genious Diana Christiansen takes her sly sexiness as Bonnie Parker and turns it up to eleven. She’s at once intensely masculine, hopeless neurotic, and dangerously feminine. Yet while it’s a career-defining role, its as much a product of the meaty dialogue she gets to deliver and the world she inhabits as Dunaway’s performance itself.  Dunaway was best at roles that required to be loud and theatrical, and she would never have a role like this again; Mommie Dearest would present her most magnificent piece of over-acting. In this case, she’s a close second. I choose Spacek because it’s so much the opposite: she invests the wilting flower protagonist of Carrie with equal parts silent strength and immature confusion. Spacek seems so out of place in the “scream queen” world of contemporary horror movies that Carrie can be viewed as a coming-of-age story and a domestic drama. In the years since, with several attempts to remake Carrie, all have existed in Spacek’s shadow.

Especially in contrast to the bold, socially adept teenagers around her, Spacek seems out of time and place. Without Spacek’s grounding performance, the movie completely gives itself over to Brian De Palma’s trademark stylistic excesses and leering voyeurism. So many of Spacek’s scenes are silent, which means she creates her character through scared glances and scary reactions, particularly in the bloody finale. As the film is careening and split-screening wildly around her, her sensitive take seems at odds with the movie she’s in, yet still stands out.

Best Actor

  • Their Pick: Peter Finch, Network
  • Nominees: Robert De Niro (Taxi Driver), Giancarlo Giannini (Seven Beauties), William Holden (Network), Sylvester Stallone (Rocky)
  • My Pick: Sylvester Stallone, Rocky
  • Nominees: David Carradine, Bound for Glory; Robert De Niro, (Taxi Driver),William Holden, (Network), Walter Matthau (The Bad News Bears)


Whenever Peter Finch’s Howard Beale appears in Network, he eats the movie – everything changes because of his prophetic, raving pronouncements. Yet Finch’s performance is clearly a supporting one (William Holden gets much more screen time); the Academy clearly elevated it because Finch had just died and they wanted to reward what was an iconic role. In my alternate universe, Finch wins Best Supporting Actor (sorry Jason Robards, who was great), and we get one of the closest races in the history of the awards – Sly Stallone vs. Robert De Niro. Both actors have roles of a lifetime as outcast losers who figure out a way in, though to drastically different effects. Both were New York actors in gritty, urban dramas. It could go either way, and I’m tempted to give it a tie. But while De Niro is obviously the better actor, I’m going to do a little politicking for Stallone. Also, in retrospect, De Niro would have several more opportunities to win this, and had won a supporting Oscar before in both a real and alternate universe for The Godfather Part II.

At this point, critics were comparing Stallone to Brando and Tango and Cash was years away – part of that was because of the way Sly was so understated and sweet. He lacks the lazy, slurring bombast that he would bring to “Cobra.” We like Rocky because he’s nice to caged dogs, sings along with street singers, and is a terrible loan shark. His scenes with Talia Shire are terrific; he would never have this kind of chemistry again with anyone, male or female. The final fight scene is so rewarding simply because it’s impossible to think of a character we’d rather root for. Part of this has to do with the fact that Stallone wrote the movie and refused to let anyone else play the role. Even in the later Rocky movies, Stallone would never again be this good; most of those performances are something of an increasingly ridiculous parody of this one. But what remains one of the most satisfying sports movies ever made is almost completely due to the success of its writer and star.

Best Picture

  • Their Pick: Rocky
  • Nominees: All The President’s Men, Bound for Glory, Network, Taxi Driver
  • My Pick: Taxi Driver
  • Nominees: All The President’s Men, The Bad News Bears, Network, Rocky


As I’ve argued, Rocky was the product of its writer and star, and I realize this downplays the achievement of director John G. Avildsen, who would only re-approach this success when he remade the movie as  The Karate Kid. But Rocky recycles urban tropes in an adequate way more than does much interesting with them: the film succeeds because of winning performances, a great soundtrack, and a great final fight. The nomination should have been the award. Of my five nominated films, The Bad News Bears is superior as a sports movie.

Therefore, I’m going with Taxi Driver. As great as De Niro is, it’s Martin Scorsese’s vision that captures a city, a moment, and a character. Whether with obvious visual language, such as when Travis hopelessly woos a girl on the phone and the camera veers to an empty hallway, or in the subtle moments where Travis is watching television and thinking God-knows-what, Scorsese films the ugly underside as no one ever has. Filtered through Travis’ madness, it’s a dark place that needs saving. We’re never sure how to deal with him – hope for his salvation, or turn him into the cops. Taxi Driver exemplifies the “new cinema” of the 70s in its darkness. The key to Travis’ madness is not that he looks in the mirror and asks, “You talkin’ to me?” It’s the next line – “I’m the only one here.” Taxi Driver captures that here, the scary milieu that either stimulates Travis’ madness or is a product of it; it’s to Scorsese’s credit that we’re never quite sure.

Other awards

  • B.S Actor – Them: Jason Robards, All the Presidents Men Me: Peter Finch, Network
  • B.S. Actress – Them: Beatrice Straight, Network; Jodie Foster, Taxi Driver
  • Stallone’s rival, Arnold Schwarzenegger, could have been nominated for B.S. Actor for his warm performance in the underrated Stay Hungry. So could Richard Pryor, in his best comedic performance in a movie for Silver Streak. But this was a strong year for supporting performances (Jason Robards, Ned Beatty, Laurence Olivier, Burt Young, and Burgess Meredith – Beatty is the only one I’d boot, just because he’s only in the movie for five minutes.)
  • While Haskell Wexler deservedly won Best Cinematography for Bound for Glory (a sadly forgotten movie), it’s ridiculous that Gordon Willis wasn’t even nominated for All The President’s Men.
  • As good as Jerry Goldsmith’s score for The Omen was, it should not have beaten Bernard Herrmann’s for Taxi Driver.
  • It’s just plain silly that Martin Scorsese wasn’t even nominated for Best Director, which is why don’t even consider it as at a category.

They said

  • Danny Peary: The Front, De Niro, Spacek
  • Golden Globes, Drama: Rocky, Finch, Dunaway
  • National Society of Film Critics: All the Presidents Men, De Niro, Spacek

This Song is Actually About Video Games

Full disclosure: for the last few months, I’ve been obsessed with Lana Del Rey’s song “Video Games.” I probably haven’t disclosed this because it’s a weird thing for a thirty-six year old man to listen to while jogging. And while “Video Games” fits my jogging playlist standards for inclusion (matches my breathing rhythms, rises to a crescendo after moments of repetition), I think my weird preoccupation with the song is based on a misinterpretation.

Because I’ve been meaning to write about the way song is the most damning critique of pre-and-post millennial hipster masculinity that I’ve heard at least since people started using the word “hipster” to describe people who know the names of all the members of Animal Collective. I based this reading primarily on the first verse:

I’m in his favorite sun dress
Watchin’ me get undressed
Take that body downtown
I say youre the bestest
Lean in for a big kiss
Put his favorite perfume on
Go play your video game

Now, perhaps it’s because I’d never actually looked at the lyrics before, and because I was usually jogging across a busy street when listening to it, but I assumed the lyrics were describing something different than those lyrics suggest: Lana is dressed for romance, while her dude just wants to play video games – a conflict that the rest of the song (I thought) plays out. Combined with Lana’s persona – a torch singer who would have been iconoclastic in the 1970s (her entire image construction seems impossible without the pre-existence of Joan from Mad Men), I assumed the song was laying into all the dudes drinking PBR and sitting on a bean bag chair and playing A Boy and his Blob as Lana Del Rey is wearing their favorite sundress. Lana is so hopelessly in love that she’ll reinvent herself again (I heard that you like the bad girls, honey / Is that true?), while some Dmitri Martin look-alike wanders around virtually to find out if there’s a way to get out of the dungeon without using the wizard key. Women continue to be awesome, while men have been increasingly ineffectual and detached. I thought that sentiment, savage yet exact, made the song damningly relevant.

But that doesn’t seem to be what’s going on here. It seems like Lana actually wants to play video games with her amour.  That’s her idea of a romantic evening, and it’s why she puts on a sundress. Or it’s a euphemism for sex, which is stupid. The consistent refrain doesn’t make sense in any other context, unless it’s ironic, and there’s nothing about the way Lana sings the song to suggest that. For instance:

He holds me in his big arms
Drunk and I am seein’ stars
This is all I think of
Watchin’ all our friends fall
In and out of Old Paul’s[?]
This is my idea of fun
Playin’ video games

In other words, Lana and her hunk snuggle up together and play ICE CLIMBER. That’s the romantic bliss the song is describing.

This blogger seems to affirm my reading, even though it has a different, empowering interpretation. She thinks it’s about a woman participating in a gendered setting, while I now assume it’s just a way of making the torch song culturally relevant. She says, “Despite all her lyrics about sundresses, perfume, and big kisses, ‘Video Games’ is mostly about playing video games” when I thought it was about sundresses, perfume, and big kisses and  heavily flannelled hippie-johnnies who would rather play video games.

When Lana Del Rey was widely mocked for her performance on Saturday Night Live, I assumed it was because this degree of anti-charisma combined with celebrity ambition was never going to work in this cultural moment. She wasn’t the kind of icon anyone was asking for, and that therefore she (and whoever else talked Lorne Michaels into putting her on) had made a huge miscalculation. But now I’m just baffled. Lana continues to be reasonably popular while remaining mostly out of the Top 10 List on Youtube. There’s room for her, in other words, but not at the top. But perhaps confusion – about what she’s trying to be and what her songs mean – is the most appropriate way to approach her. And I guess that’s why she remains on my jogging playlist.

(The video, by the way, explains nothing. Except that, like Lana Del Rey, it exists uncomfortably in the present and the past).