Today we’ve officially reach Peak Butt with the arrival of Jennifer Lopez’s very literal video for Booty, directed by Hype Williams and wisely remixed to substitute Pitbull’s original lacklustre verse and butt for a guest appearance from Iggy Azalea’s Butt. Chances are you’ve already stopped reading, and for that I really don’t blame you. It’s Friday, you came here for butts, and ample butt you shall receive. If you are still reading though, some thoughts:
Though they both look objectively great, neither party looks to be particularly into their joint scenes. The two exude about as much chemistry as two people who have forcibly cupcaked each other in a moist, confined space. At the two minute mark especially, Iggy looks positively confused, like she’s just woken up and there’s this strange lady she remembers from Video Hits and the soundtrack from her Year 6 dance covered in baby oil who won’t stop rubbing her butt on her no matter how many times she says ‘No, Jen, please stop’ – just like my friend’s horny Shiba Inu. The whole affair reeks of label orchestration. Imagine the small talk between takes.
Jenny also looks aggressively sad and like an intensely uncomfortably facsimile of an antiquated idea of sexy, her swimsuits clinging to her posterior with a verve she’s all too familiar with – that of someone clinging to the remnants of her relevance. Booty lacks the self-awareness, humour and camp of Anaconda, with its heavy-handed salad-tossing metaphors and gradual descent into utter fucking madness, and it’s none the better for it. And cigarettes, really?
Also, are we still in a place where lyrics like “It’s his birthday, give him what he ask for” is a chill situation?
Also, this is a bad song.
Whatever. Butts. Go get it.
