I’m writing this for my mother, who will never see it.
She lives in a nursing home and is hard of hearing. She isn’t completely in this world all the time now, but she can still be quite witty if you catch her in the right moment. I used to share stuff like this song and video with her when I was a teenager. I’d tell her about something I was fascinated by or excited about, and she’d listen intently and enjoy it with me. She would fully indulge me.
It’s hard to believe it now, but there was a time when we were like best friends. She supported everything I did, and we had healthy debates and discussions about current events, artistic ideas, and even philosophical questions. I miss those times. Like many people, my relationship with my mother has been complicated. Good times, bad times, not-speaking times, feeling-abandoned times. But during this little period when I was almost an adult, and she and I could relate on many levels, it was wonderful.
She used to be an artist as well, and she had painted all the paintings in our house. Oil on canvas, mostly. So, it seems natural that I would think of her when I saw the video for Lucy Dacus’s song Ankles. [Click the link to watch it.]
Even the suggestive nature of the lyrics would not bother the mother of my teenage years. Unlike me (the prude), she wouldn’t shy away from erotic topics back in the day. It was so embarrassing! (Maybe that was a strategy on her part?)
If I could, I would play this video for her now, but I don’t know if she would hear it very well. And I’m not sure if she would fully understand it. So, I imagined how I would describe it to her…
The song starts with staccato string music, violin and cello, evoking the classical chamber music of the 1800s. We see a Renaissance-style painting that shows feet and ankles intimately close to each other. It’s in the vein of Michealangelo or Raphael, where the touching between people seems to be the focus.
Then, we go from the painting to real life. Modern life. We see the aftermath of a house party, with people sprawled out, many of them sleeping after a late night of joyful carousing. Candles have burned down to their ends. The evidence of partying is everywhere. And just like a Renaissance painting, the party people are intimately strewn across each other. (We see flashes of other paintings, and then the real-life scenes in the house that are similar.)
A spotlight is scanning the rooms of the house. At first, you don’t know the light is being directed by a person. But then you see a slim, female (played by Havana Rose Liu), dressed in a security guard outfit, walking around with a flashlight.
She is searching the rooms, trying to find someone. And then she finds Lucy Dacus, passed out on the floor, lying with a group of people. Lucy is dressed in a red Victorian gown with a wreath of flowers on her head. She looks up when the flashlight hits her and sort of rolls her eyes, as if to say, “Oh, you.” She puts her head back down, to sleep again, clearly not interested in going with the security guard. (You don’t necessarily question why Lucy is dressed like this. Maybe it was a costume party.)
Next, you see the security guard leading Lucy down the road outside the house, followed by several scenes where they are walking across the city (which turns out to be Paris). The guard awkwardly helps Lucy not drag her long gown down steps, across roads, and on the subway. They also ride in a ferry. It’s clear that the guard’s goal is to get Lucy to where she’s supposed to be. However, if you are me, you don’t realize what that is. You don’t realize that she’s not famous singer-songwriter, Lucy Dacus, in this video. When girls see her on the street, they get excited to see her. But it’s not because of who she really is (like I thought). It’s because of who her character is in the video.
Throughout this time, Lucy’s character is not concerned about serious things. She wants to have fun. She playfully runs through a bunch of pigeons and steals an apple from a fruit stand. She wants to go up to people and mess with them. She is not concerned about getting to their destination. The guard frequently must get her back on track and keep her in line. She has to pull her and pick her up to get her to go with her. At one point, Lucy defends the guard when another person confronts her. It’s clear that the guard and Lucy are protective of each other—even though they seem to be at cross-purposes. (The facial expressions and acting are impeccable!)
Towards the end of the video, they end up in a museum. They walk by various Renaissance-style paintings on the wall. (I’m still clueless as to the connection at this point.) Then, it is revealed, but I won’t spoil it for you. You may have figured it out already, but I still think it’s perfect and rewarding. Go watch it if you haven’t already.
The mother of my youth would agree that it’s clever. I miss her.
For the most part, I have not found Lucy Dacus’s songs to be as catchy as this one. I tend to think of her songs as ballads. This one is a fun treat. I need to explore more of her work. Let me know if you have any suggestions in the comments!
Thanks for this! Love it!!
Awww, the video ending is charming, but I feel bad for her! Thanks for sharing.