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The following
is from 312 No. 3, March 2005 [Download
Publication in .PDF format]:
Singing
into the Mirror: Theme Song II
“People
are strange… sure, look—look how alone I am, oh yeah,
everybody looks ugly, I mean I’m all alone. Ah, you don’t
want me to stay alone like this, do you?” He pleads in what
seems a video personal from yesteryear. “Oh you can’t
leave me alone… look how down I am, how depressed I am.
I mean, I don’t have you yet, of course I’m depressed.
Ah, you can’t leave me alone like this…” This
would-be suitor splayed out on a living room floor so desperate
for the viewer’s attention is Vito Acconci. In his 1973
video “Theme Song”, Acconci uses music by the Doors,
Van Morrison, and others to make come-ons to his unknown audience
for just over a half hour. While exploring the close-up intensity
of video’s (and television’s) seductive relationship
with the viewer, Acconci comes across as half-desperate/half-crazed,
somewhere between Leisure Suit Larry and American Psycho.
Both born
only the year before “Theme Song” was made, Tricia
Middleton and Joel Taylor’s “Theme Song II”
(2001) revisits Acconci’s original with altogether different
intentions. Their version immediately declares in blue subtitles:
“let’s face it honey / we all want to be rock stars
at some point in our lives”. A woman reclines back into
the frame. She sips some wine, then takes off her sunglasses to
peer to her right, the self-conscious tic of someone checking
the mirror (or a camera’s viewfinder). She exudes detached
confidence with a cool demeanor. This is seduction of a different
kind than Acconci’s—instead of (living room) sleazy,
it’s (bedroom) relaxing. Suddenly, she begins to lip-sync
along with Spiritualized’s “200 Bars”, a melancholy
shoegazer epic made downright world-weary by a reduction in speed.
I’m
reminded of all the childhood trips I took across the continent,
staring at myself mouthing the lyrics to music issuing forth from
my cassette walkman. Sure, I wanted to be a rock star, or a celebrity,
or somebody famous. In my head, I wasn’t gazing into the
passenger side mirror anymore—I was transported away from
the car to the concert stage, singing these amazing songs, now
my own songs, to millions of like-minded fans. With western culture
focused on celebrity and image, I know I’m not the only
one who entertained such fantasies. I know people who sang into
pencils like they were microphones, and many more who attend karaoke
bars on a regular basis. Maybe most of us don’t really believe
we’ll become stars, but plenty do—Canadian Idol and
the like are good enough witness to that.
The video
reins me back into reality not long after it begins. The blue
subtitles break it to me softly: “you’re just going
to have to face the fact / that you will never be / what you dream
of / sorry / oh honey / you’re just going to have to get
over it”. Even Spiritualized gives up: “You know I
tried, but now I’m tired…”. The woman seems
to even ponder the subtitles, suddenly losing track of the soothing
beat, staring offscreen as though disenchanted. She no longer
lip-syncs and finally the image fades out. End of fantasy.
Mark Prier.
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