1996: directed by Jamie Thraves

A nighttime, deserted, puddly street in - you guessed it - London. After a second a single figure runs from the far end towards the camera. It's Jean-Marc Barr, who you may recognise from such films as The Big Blue, Breaking the Waves, or Dancer in the Dark, in a gray suit, blue shirt, and yellow tie. His right hand is bandaged, but we don't get to dwell on it - Graham's mighty guitar signals the beginning of another brilliant Blur single!

Jean-Marc is really booking down the street, running flat out as though his life depended on it, teeth clenched... his expression is anxious and terrified. His shirttail has come loose. Comment ça va, Jean-Marc?

In a ballroom, we see Graham's hands on his Fender, then Alex's on his Fender Jazzmaster... ah. And yet Jean-Marc keeps running. Is he trying to get there? His tie is flying out behind him. Dave, in stripy sweater and jeans, plays drums comfortably. Jean-Marc's haunted face fills the frame. Oui, oui, Jean-Marc, Blur is very exciting, but slow down, you're going to burst something.

In the deserted ballroom, super cute Damon Albarn, in puffy brown leatherette jacket and jeans, hunches at an upright piano, playing and singing the opening verse. Damon's posture is excrable. Clouds of cigarette smoke rise off him, but no cigarette is visible - Damon's so hot, he's smokin'! Everybody loves a prologue in a music video.

In a bathroom somewhere else, Jean-Marc rises out of the deep and regards his handsome face in the mirror. Jean-Marc Barr is a total looker - sexy eyebrows, sexy lips, sexy mostly-shaved head, sexy eyes... you go, Jean-Marc! Uh, then Jean-Marc wipes his nose, and the sexy illusion is a little smudged. Jean-Marc cleans his teeth with an electric toothbrush. Also in the bathroom play Blur with their instruments (well, Damon's piano is nowhere to be seen). Be still, beating heart of the populace! It's a very good-looking Blur! Alex has shaggy bangs for days, Dave does his job, Graham hunches over in his blue puffy jacket and hip faux horn-rim glasses. Damon's gesturing at nothing to inducate "claret" and "beaujolais". Jean-Marc takes a big swig from a glass of what might be either claret or beaujolais (the Author is of the mind that it's cabernet sauvignon), swishes it around his mouth, and spits into the sink. Ew! The camera pans around and shows us that Jean-Marc is still in his black undershorts, and Blur are right behind him, Graham sitting on the bathtub. Damon bounces a little and shakes his hips.

Back in the ballroom, Blur are alone with their instruments and amps, and Damon slides across the floor on his knees. Next Damon jumps up, showing a little tummy at the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. Oh la la!

Back in the flat (a lovely, roomy, airy affair of teak-paneled walls and sage carpeting), Jean-Marc puts on his watch. Across the room, there's Blur again! Damon's jumping! Alex is smirking! Graham and Dave are rocking! Back in the ballroom, Blur keeps doing what they do best. Is it redundant to mention that Damon is jumping higher and higher? In the flat, Damon stares at the ceiling and Alex couldn't see through his fringe if he tried. Jean-Marc still hasn't quite got his watch fastened yet. He walks past his matching cream-coloured sofa set and glass-topped table. In the hallway hangs a picture of... some guys. Damon spins around in "circles of friends". In a close-up of the picture, we see Jean-Marc, and ... some guys. Damon has taken a seat on the sofa, feet up on the cushions, because his parents didn't raise him right. Jean-Marc comes back to the living room dressed in his yuppie suit and notices there's a scruffy million-selling pop band in his home, reeking of cigarettes, booze, and success. He doesn't seem incredibly upset. But as he leaves the flat (he's #14, if the viewer ever wants to pay him a visit to see if Blur are still there), he sees that Blur have magically appeared in the hallway as well! Understandably annoyed, Jean-Marc shoves Damon out of frame. Alex cannot control his smile. Damon, being immortal, pops right back up, microphone still in hand, and gestures expansively with his forefinger.

Jean-Marc just wants to go to the Groucho Club. He walks down the hall to the lift, and presses a button that reads "press to descend"... into a Kafkaesque nightmare where Blur is in the lift! Wait, that's not a nightmare, that's a kinky porn fantasy. Dave seems a little put out that he hasn't got much room to play in, but he soldiers on for the cause of art. Back in the ballroom, Alex flings his forelock back and Damon, er, jumps. In the lift, Jean-Marc watches the doors close, looking stricken, while Blur rocks on behind him. Damon closes in on Jean-Marc's head from behind, singing right in his ear, making the clawing jazz hand of death. (If the Viewer cares to look close, it looks like Damon has a cigarette burn or bug bite on his microphone thumb.) As Jean-Marc gets off the lift, Blur is in the lobby in front of him. Jean-Marc tries not to react.

Back in the ballroom, Damon breaks the law of gravity, jumping so high he flies right off the earth's surface and into orbit. It's not Mir, it's Albarn! Oh, nope, he's back on earth, bouncing normally. Oh well. Mir came down, too. The rest of the band give him a wide berth, having encountered his aggressive tendencies more than once, and probably not fancying cigarette burns of their own.

Jean-Marc goes through a revolving door and hails the parking valet. Blur are there, playing on the sidewalk. Jean-Marc and Damon stand next to each other. Damon looks really, really short. Completely fed up with Damon's shitty posture, Jean-Marc shoves him down and gives him a right kicking. Back in the ballroom, Damon sweeps his hand downward, as if to say, "Yeah, I ate pavement that day..." The parking valet gets out and lets Jean-Marc into his black Porsche 928. Nice one, Jean-Marc.

As Jean-Marc drives, fighting off road rage, he sees - argh no! It's Blur all right, all set up and jamming by the side of the road. Jean-Marc drives past. In the ballroom, Damon emotes and spins around some more. On the road, Jean-Marc drives past Blur again. Jean-Marc here begins to doubt his sanity. (What took him so long?) When he sees the band again - just standing there, no instruments, not playing, nothing - he gives in to sweet, sweet road rage, swerves, and runs them down like so many pesky armadilloes. The car shakes horribly as he punctures a tyre on Damon's pointy skull! No, Jean-Marc, no! He's just run over the best band ever! They didn't mean to battle Oasis, that was just the press on a slow news season! He gets out of the Porsche and, filled with remorse for having bought "Roll With It" instead of "Country House", begins to pound on the hood with his fist. He pounds on the window, too, then takes off in a run. Next time we see his hand, it's all bloody and wrapped in a handkerchief. Never, ever punch a Porsche. They fight back.

Jean-Marc gallops for a while, then runs out of breath and slows as he approaches an unmarked door in an alleyway. Could it be...? C'est vrai! He's found the ballroom and the band! He can now be exorcised of these terrible d(a)emons and find peace! The Damon in question stands in a spotlight, crouches down, purrs out a few last "na na"s, then lowers the microphone and grins. "Never ever fuck with me and my mates," Damon's grin says. "We have supernatural powers that you will never, ever understand."

CUTE FACTOR: awesome. And Jean-Marc Barr is a stud.
VIDEO QUALITY: not too expensive (one hopes), plot-driven, and funny as all hell.
FUCKED UP FACTOR: extremely likely, considering the time frame and circumstances.
OVERALL GRADE: A+