From Fosse to Ari: The Origin of Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” Video
As long as there have been artists, it’s pretty safe to say there have been critics. The relationship between the two is a complicated one, for it’s the artist who, in an act of vulnerability, steps into the arena (often literally) to present the creation, and with that, comes the (welcome or unwelcome, hopefully at least constructive) critique from the sideline.
An artist who recently commented about this relationship is Ariana Grande, via her latest music video for “yes, and?” from her seventh studio album, Eternal Sunshine, which saw the light of day on March 8. The track’s sound evokes classic piano and hi-hat ‘90s dance music, while the video treatment harkens back to a stylish ‘80s music video and even further back to an iconic ‘70s movie musical, so therefore, Ari’s video is an homage to an homage. Let’s put on our dancing shoes and retrace our steps:
One of the best depictions of this artist-critic exchange was featured in Bob Fosse’s 1979 semi-autobiographical musical-drama, All That Jazz. Broadway director and choreographer, Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider essentially portraying Bob Fosse) is burning the candle (and many cigarettes) at both ends, trying to cast and create a new show, plus complete the editing of a film, all while barely co-raising his young daughter, and popping a lot of pills.
The new show that Gideon is working on entitled, NY/LA, a loose reference to Fosse’s very own, Chicago, features a musical number about airline travel called “Take Off With Us” (a cheeky title already filled with foreshadowing). Gideon invites a few suit-wearing financial backers to preview the song and dance, which starts out with the character of a purser (Sandahl Bergman), along with her crew of dancing flight attendants, touting the exceptional service they will bestow up their passengers (“They only live to service you...”). The first half of the performance is bubbly, which garners smiles, even a round of applause midway through from the straight-laced observers, but unbeknownst to them, there’s a second half that suddenly turns steamy (literally), with one of the dancers welcoming all aboard “Airotica,” Gideon’s ode to the “Mile-High Club.”
The studio goes dim, now lit only via a few flashlights, with the dancers peeling off their clothes (the “take off with us” double entendre now realized), and pairing up to perform a sensual, then overtly sexual, albeit artistic, number, much to the confusion and disappointment of the backers, the realization sinking in about the limited monetary and sponsorship potential that the addition of “Airotica” will bring. “There goes the family audience,” the head backer whispers to his colleague. At the end, Gideon asks what they think, only for the head backer to feign acceptance and approval with a nervous smile.
Ten years later, the dancer and choreographer, Paula Abdul used Fosse’s “Take Off With Us” as the basis for her “Cold Hearted” music video, directed by a then relatively unknown, David Fincher. The video starts out with a group of record-company executives arriving at a rehearsal space, seemingly uninterested in what they’re there to preview. One says it’s a “Bob Fosse kind of thing; it’s gonna be really, really hot,” to which another executive nervously replies, “Yeah, but tastefully, it’s tastefully hot.”
The first two verses and choruses find Abdul and her crew dancing much to the toe-tapping approval of the executives, but by the bridge, a couple of the dancers begin lowering the window shades, thus beginning Abdul’s (understandably much tamer) version of “Airotica.”
A couple of the executives are turned off, a couple of them turned on. Similar to Gideon asking his backers, Abdul asks her audience, “Well, what do you think?,” to which a conservative executive reluctantly replies, “It’s very nice.”
In January 2024, Grande released “yes, and?” as a self-empowerment reminder amid a social-media culture of click-and-critique. The video came at a time when Grande, once again, became the subject of chatter surrounding her personal life, specifically her short-lived marriage, and quick subsequent kindling of a new relationship with a co-star from the film adaptation of Wicked. For the Christian Breslauer-directed video for “yes, and?,” which starts similarly to Abdul’s, a group of jaded critics reluctantly arrive at an industrial space, yet ironically can’t seem to talk about anything but Grande and her signature ponytail, with some of the critics even rehashing, and reacting to, internet-sourced gossip.
As these critics enter the space, an elated group exits. The new batch take their seats in front of a series of stone statues, one of which is in the form of Grande with her hands covering her eyes in a see-no-evil posture. As the song’s beat drops in, the statues crumble into piles of rubble. Grande is released to tell her story, with the bridge reserved for commentary to those who deliver just that about her (“Don’t comment on my body/do not reply/your business is yours/and mine is mine”).
Through confident lyrics and cohesive choreography, Grande and her dancers persuade the critics to drop their metaphorical stone exteriors as well. Yet just as this is achieved, she and her dancers within a flash assume their statuesque personas once again, perhaps symbolic of the thick shell needed to navigate the current, all-too-easy, drop-a-comment culture. As the newly elated converts leave, yet another cluster of critics enter, they too soon to be shook.
In summary, the common threads between the three depictions are as follows:
The critics arrive.
Principal female character with a group of dancers.
Principal character dressed in black, and wearing a black hat with brim.
Stripped-down, industrial-looking rehearsal space featuring scaffolding structures.
Principal character on top of the scaffolding structure.
The controlled critics sitting on chairs as the audience, as opposed to the creative artists “in the arena.”
There’s always a moment when the critics are enjoying what is presented to them.
The rehearsal space goes from light to dark for a version of “Airotica.”
When it comes to Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” video, there’s no place like homage.
Photos 1, 8, 9, 10: Ariana Grande in the music video for “yes, and?,” directed by Christian Breslauer; Photos 2, 3, 4: All That Jazz, directed by Bob Fosse, cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno; Photos 5, 6, 7: Paula Abdul in the music video for “Cold Hearted,” directed by David Fincher.
Pop Playlist: Madonna: “Vogue”
Arguably, Madonna’s 1990 hit, “Vogue” is her signature song, one that will always come up in conversation when discussing the icon’s contribution to pop (music) culture. With its theme of dance floor as place to escape life’s “heartache,” Madonna and co-writer Shep Pettibone paint a scene where fantasy, through imaginative (fashion-pose) voguing, serves as inspirational recharge for one’s own reality, a space that gives “new life.”
The documentarian, Jennie Livingston had already been exploring similar themes in the New York gay underground of competitive fashion-fantasy balls and voguing “battles” years earlier, with her groundbreaking film, Paris Is Burning. Yet Madonna was the one to bring elements from this world into mainstream visibility (“Life’s a ball”). While the powerful documentary delves into far grittier territory, “Vogue” focuses on the glitzier aspects of old-Hollywood glamour. It becomes more than just a catchy dance song or stylish video, it’s indicative of how a savvy Madonna took something subculture and crafted it into one of her most mainstream successes, in turn, also influencing the pop-culture lexicon, the word not just a noun anymore or the name of a magazine, but now a familiar action verb.
David Fincher’s masterpiece:
A clip from Paris Is Burning, with the legendary Willi Ninja. Take note at 1:15 - 1:25, which features a young Jose Gutierez, who a few years later would appear in the video for “Vogue” and be a part of Madonna’s “Blond Ambition World Tour.”
Psychedelic Zodiac: Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man”
Just re-watched David Fincher’s 2007 film, Zodiac, about the crimes committed in the San Francisco Bay Area in the 1960s and 1970s by a person who called himself, The Zodiac, via cryptic letters and creepy phone calls to news outlets. The film is incredibly well-done, in depth and, at times, spine-tingling. It also does a fantastic job of using songs to establish timeframe and tone, best exemplified by the use of “Hurdy Gurdy Man,” recorded in 1968 by the singer, Donovan. The track is classic psychedelic ‘60s, and plays over a disturbing scene near the beginning of the film, as well as during the closing credits. The film stars Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Anthony Edwards, and Robert Downey, Jr.; even the actors in smaller roles are equally memorable, including the (uncredited) actress, Ione Skye, whose father is… Donovan.
A chilling clip from Zodiac, featuring Ione Skye:
Allured into the Basement
“Are you sure there’s nobody else in the house?”
— Jake Gyllenhaal as cartoonist turned true-crime investigator, Robert Graysmith.
Paramount Pictures. Cinematographer: Harris Savides.