I watched the video of Taylor Swift’s ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’, so you don’t have to.
We open on Taylor’s apartment. The wallpaper is giant cable knitting. That’s right: Taylor Swift – estimated worth $80m – lives in a tea cosy.
Taylor is in her jimjams, but also wearing immaculate red lipstick, thus issuing a conflicting message to her suitor. Are you receiving guests or are you not, Taylor? It is no wonder you’re being jerked about by your boyfriend when you are unable to make up your own mind.
Immediately from this scene, we can already see why Taylor’s boyfriend keeps dumping her. Firstly, the TV is showing a Taylor Swift video. She’s too self-obsessed to have a proper long-term relationship with somebody else. Secondly, everywhere she goes, Taylor is followed by a gang of plushies. As if this were not offputting enough, add the ‘wacky rubber doll’ facial expression worn by the chief plushy.
“Still feeling sexy? Thought not.”
The plushies possess a plethora of instruments – keytar, autoharp, white violin, a Gretsch Bo Diddley guitar – but they are wearing big furry paws so cannot play them. This is OK because the song does not seem to have much keytar in the backing track anyway.
While they’re busy gurning and miming, over in the Cheeseplant Room, Taylor has a cross chat with her man, who is wisely wearing earphones to block out her nagging. In case you’re wondering just who is this fellow who has caused Taylor such heartache on repeat, he is holding a 12″ record. Consider his character established!
“Oh, so it’s OK for you to define yourself with retro-whimsical objects, but I’m not allowed?”
“Tee hee! Why don’t you ask my Felix the Cat clock?”
Taylor answers a call on the wall phone that she has, because she’s 22 so not old enough to remember that landlines are not actually cool at all. On the other end of the line, her gentleman caller is on a payphone – are we really to believe that neither of them have decent mobile reception?
The action moves to a place we are supposed to believe is a bar because on the wall there is a neon sign saying ‘BAR’. A case of ‘The bar doth protest too much’, for surely if a bar has succeeded in being a bar, it does not need to declare its bar-ness in such an obvious way? This leads me to believe that this is in fact a church hall which self-identifies as a bar and wishes to be treated as such by the world at large.
“I so am a bar!”
Check out the autoharp-strumming plushy wearing sunglasses in the dark bar. What a tool. He will shortly be roadkill, as Taylor and her gentleman friend zoom up in their cardboard car. “Give us a ride!” plead the plushies. “Damn, I can NOT catch a break today,” sighs Taylor’s boyfriend’s penis, as they pile into the boot.
The on-again-off-again couple finally have some alone time outside a garden centre or something, but Taylor’s mood swings strike again: she veers from ‘amorous’ to ‘way unimpressed’ in the time it takes to put a scarf on, so she scampers off for a lie-down and a big phone-moan to her interested friend
the speaking clock. Yet again, she’s using the landline, but at least this time it is a portable phone. Baby steps, Taylor.
Perhaps ‘baby’ is a risky word to use in a Swiftian context, as on her pillow is a stripy knitted toy that would wilt the boner of any adult man who ends up in that bed.
“Sorry, Casanova, I don’t do threesomes. Like EVER.”
We return to Taylor’s flat, where the plushies lure us in for a party: jumping now, dry-humping later. A man-squirrel nearly knocks a picture off the wall, but doesn’t, which is lucky, because Taylor can’t take any more upset today.
‘Knock knock!’ Taylor’s man is at the door – but oh dear, he’s not dressed as a woodland creature, so he can’t come in. HA. Finally, Taylor has managed to close the door (literally and figuratively #clever) on her relationship with
Jake Gyllenhaal John Mayer Joe Jonas Taylor Lautner vinyl guy.
Then, as Taylor turns back to the party, we see that all the revellers have vanished. They may have been a product of Taylor’s overheated imagination all along, a fantasy to help her through this traumatic break-up. But she’s not alone; we see her flirting with a knitted bird outside the window.
“Wanna come in and see my etchings?”
Sadly, Taylor seems to relate better to inanimate objects, which will be an obstacle to her forming meaningful relationships with an actual human adult anytime soon. Best of luck to the person who breaks this cycle.
NB don’t break this cycle, which is standing in the kitchen NOT as another self-conscious indication of Cute Hipsterism, but because Taylor has a pedal-powered microwave.