1994: directed by David Mould

 entirely in black & white.

This video is an homage, very directly, to Last Year At Marienbad, which is legendary for being one of the films that the Author could not watch because it was just too boring. Marienbad has a tremendous reputation, however, and the Author will probably give it another try, being a fan of Alain Robbe-Grillet, who wrote the novel that the film was based on, and not objecting to the film's director, Alain Resnais. However, in terms of this video, it merely serves to give Blur some pointy-headed cred, as if they needed any more proof that they are intellectuals.

does this look familiar...?

We open on a glamourous bedroom with a fresco on the wall and white silk drapes over the four-poster antique bed. A lovely brunette, straight out of Under the Cherry Moon, stalks through in a white silk robe with a marabou collar. Posh! Chandeliers. Molded ceilings. Deserted corridors. Get used to them. Posh Bird sits at a mirror in a black sequinned evening gown, looking fashionably triste, probably because of her tax bracket. More chandeliers. And Blur in tuxedos! Looking scrummy! Be still my heart! Damon is the only one not wearing a bow tie, because he just has to be different. Ceilings. Corridors. Chandeliers. Looks like the ball is on - Alex and Dave have each scored themselves a blonde in a white dress, and you can tell just by their backs that they're posh. They slowly descend the monumental staircase. Posh Bird leans against a wall. Our first subtitle: still you remain the same like I never left you

Posh Bird leans against a different wall, hand to her heart. So melancholy! *yawn*

you have not changed

Posh Bird, in a doorway, wears a lovely white brocade car jacket and is sad. Deja vu - earlier wall, "still you remain the same" subtitle... oh boy. It's a real homage all right. As the lyrics go "drinking far too much", Posh, startled, bangs up against a laughing, brassy blonde, and sloshes her Cristal. Quelle horreur!

In the magnificent foyer, Posh Bird, in a white Mary Quant minidress, looks around her, wondering where the butler is, as she's been inside the house for three whole seconds and no one's come to ask if she wants any champagne or a tennis bracelet.

you find nothing is familiar

Alex, in his tux, walks down the corridor. At the ball, Damon dances with Posh, gazing up at the chandeliers and probably wishing one of them would fall on his head and get him out of this soporific French nightmare. When it doesn't happen, he gazes with love down at Posh, perhaps hoping she will put him out of his misery. But with so much misery of her own, how could she possibly help him?

you do not know who I am

Blur in tuxedos again. Dave turns away and engages in a little target practise with a handgun. Must stay in shape for the British Secret Service, eh right Dave? Never know when M is going to call you, asking you to save the world from SMERSH. Damon glowers lusciously. Posh, in black sequinned lingere, clutches her heart again. She really ought to have that seen to before it gets serious.

you looked towards me

Posh glances at Damon standing next to her. He's now wearing his bow tie and glowering some more.

No, it was not me,
you are deceived

you have no memory

Damon, in a very uncomfy chair, wearing a black dinner jacket, white shirt, and skinny tie, glowers. He looks up to see a terribly handsome Graham Leslie Coxon, tuxed and bow-tied, staring at him without expression. At a different table, Alex, Dave, and some old guys ignore their empty wine glasses and don't talk to each other.

... men on chairs, in chairs...

Posh sits on an antique lover's sofa. She seems to be melancholy.

... your eyes still dream,
still you look faraway...

Empty bedroom, well-lit, goes dark except for the bedside lamps. Damon and Posh look on, being stunning.

...still you are delicate
in your fragile ways...

Poor Posh. She looks so sad despite her ropes of pearls and sublime haircut.

... and your scent remains
only yours

Posh smiles, remembering her custom scent, and how she's got a lifetime supply upstairs. "you have no memory?" ask the subtitles. Oh, she remembers all right. Posh stands looking out at the estate, which looks an awful lot like Versailles. And yet she's unhappy? What is it with these people? There's a peacock and everything!

yes, it was you
Perhaps you looked straight through me

A statue sits in the pool. Another statue is across from it. They seem to look at each other. They are only slightly less animated than the actual humans in the video.

They were us, You and I (beautifully synched with the vocals that say the same thing.)

On the veranda, Posh tries to cheer Damon. But indoors, it's all glowering as Graham approaches Posh. Damon goes down the *yawn excuse me* corridor alone. Posh goes upstairs. She stops and looks behind her to see if something exciting is going to happen. It doesn't.

You turned for me

Damon glowers at the foot of the stairs.

Ages passed as I stood still for you

Posh so doesn't get it.

How you wish!

Damon presses his point, following her a step or two. Posh gives him a look of withering pity.

I understand nothing you say

She shrugs and smiles, continuing up the stairs.

Out on the lawn, Posh canters romantically along in her white filmy dress. Damon doesn't get it. He glowers. Posh, standing by Secret Agent Double-O Dave, wonders when Damon's going to get a clue and stop stalking her because she obviously prefers Graham, duh, and everyone else gets it. I mean, geez, look at Graham. He's so handsome. A well groomed, neatly chiseled, drop-dead handsome face. He's chill, not all moony like GlowerMeister Damon. As if to prove his point some more, Damon glowers at Graham. And the ball continues with some listless dancing.

Damon, sitting this one out, has his life flash before his eyes - bitch lied to me here and here and here - you can watch him coming unhinged. Again, the Author wishes to express her regrets that Damon was not in more movies because he's really quite good. Posh finds herself in her room bored with her zillions of shoes. No, shoes cannot make up for the emptiness inside of you caused by loving Graham. The Author knows this for a fact. Damon keeps stalking Posh. He looks at her accusingly again and again and she knocks into the blonde and spills her Cristal again. Whoa.

In the bedroom Posh cowers as Damon approaches in patented nouvelle roman jealous lover stylee. Posh spends a moment remembering how much she loves this house, how she wants to make sweet love to it, how she does sometimes make sweet love to it by passing along it and leaning up against the walls. Er. Graham parts the net curtains to make sure the coast is clear. Assured of his safety, he points his two forefingers like a gun, and "blows the bitch away".

BANG

Posh passes out. She's all off the bed and shit. Graham walks away and returns to the party, no doubt to drink away his woes. Ferget her Graham, she only wants you for your Versailles... but wait!

Your face is fear

Damon and Not Dead Posh are there at the party; Damon glowers. Posh is wistful. Bitch needs a job.

You are fear

Posh breaks away from Damon and goes running through the splendid house, still thinking of past ecstasies or something. She and Damon walk away through the corridors. Graham comes down the steps after them, then figures they deserve each other and lets them go.

FIN (mais, bien sur!)

Looks like we made it to the end? Don't kid yourselves. It's Marienbad; the nouvelle roman - you can never escape. It's never over. EVER.

CUTE FACTOR: off the scale.
VIDEO QUALITY: a superb homage to a film the Author considers unwatchable.
FUCKED UP FACTOR: probably not. though precedence would demand at least real wine.
OVERALL GRADE: A-