Kiiara sits on a faded emerald green throne, snapping her fingers with her subjects behind her. Two men are painted in gold up to their necks, looking like disjointed statutes. Two other mens’ chests are glistening, oiled enough to fry something on them. Another man has a chest tattoo. One lone man wears flannel shirt. The flannel means he is important and hereby will be known as Flannel Guy. On the floor, three young women in casual clothes surround her.
At her throne, a guy looks down towards her as she looks up, her hands raised over her head, waiting for her command. The young women are given permission to dance, careful not to hit the chandelier. She finds comfort in the guy standing above her again.
In the grimy bathroom, a single flower is in its pot, attempting to grow as is she. She talks to the mirror. Lights flash from orange to red and back again. Then, the focus changes from blurry, normal, and back again. The single flower screams “I Am A Metaphor!” when its gets shown with Kiiara’s testy reflection.
Flannel Guy, who is brokenhearted, breaks from the pack. Bashful, he seems to want to say something but walks back towards the group. Sometime during the day, she walks by herself, her hands in her hair, troubled that no one gets her misunderstood art. She yells at a Flannel Guy. Flannel Guy responds. Stand up for yourself, Flannel Guy! Her subjects judge her accordingly.
Adorned in various flashing neon colors, Flannel Guy and Kiiara continue to argue. The living room is lit dimly, seething in its gothic angst. Kiiara push and shoves Flannel Guy around a lot. Flannel Guy is enough of a man to know not to fight a girl, especially one who is egging him on. Kiiara has worn herself out from the fighting and stands by herself, pulling at her hair while Flannel Guy looks on, concerned for his safety. Flannel Guy has been rescued by one of his friends and is in conversation. In a huff, she leaves the party.
Two mens’ golden chests flash by several times on the screen, informing the audience of the beefcake metaphor: beautiful but no substance. In a three-way mirror, her image is split, each one spotlighting her sullen expression in different directions. The single flower in the pot has moved to the mirror, reminding everyone that yes, even plant life experience alienation. Kiiara talks back to the mirror, the flower pot creeping closer to her after willing itself to move after the pain, oh the pain of waiting for the sun. Later, she clenches the forgotten rose. The flower pot has been discarded. The rose is giving her strength.
Her throne room fades to black. It fades into the empty bathroom and fades black again. It turns fades back into the throne room. Bathed in ocean blue light, she sits on a chair, her fingers on her face, her mouth formed into a scowl.
She shimmies in her throne and plays with her hair. Then, she sits back on her throne and crosses her leg.
Self-indulgent and pretentious, Kiiara takes herself way too seriously. The gothic setting can’t disguise it’s a teen melodrama, complete with a meltdown that should end in a restraining order against Kiiara. The attempts at symbolism are obvious. The flower pot and mens’ chests should each have a sign on them stating “I stand for this!”
The throne itself is presumptuous, revealing the depth of her ego. Then having only the men behind her as though she’s some supreme being. She has taken those queen tweets way too far. Little does she know that she’s only here filling the void until Lorde returns.
Director: Kiiara Year: 2016