What do Lewis Capaldi, Domhnall Gleeson, Greta Lee, Cillian Murphy, Graham Norton, and Jodie Smith all have in common? Not much — at least until this February when superstar Taylor Swift cast the stars, alongside a pet rock and cactus, in a long, chaotic music video for her song “Opalite,” released Feb. 6.
In an Instagram post, Swift said the idea for the video “crash landed into [her] imagination” last October while on the stage of British talk show “The Graham Norton Show” alongside this assortment of celebrities.
“I had this thought that it would be wild if all of our fellow guests on the Graham Norton show that night, including Graham himself, could be a part of it,” Swift wrote. “Like a school group project but for adults and it isn’t mandatory.”
Unfortunately, the music video that resulted feels like just that: a school project, overcrowded by the hands of too many contributors. The problem is not the talent involved but the inability to tie it together cohesively.
The lyrics of “Opalite” explore the decision to choose love despite all odds. The music video follows the love story of “Lonely Man” (Domhnall Gleeson) and “Lonely Woman” (Taylor Swift), two socially awkward adults who abandon their inanimate object friends and find each other by using a magical “Opalite spray.” This magical spray, cameos from celebrities who we should recognize but likely don’t, and the sparkly chaos of the ’90s make for a fun yet very confusing music video.
The video is very wholesome, relying on storytelling rather than suggestive costumes or dance routines. But despite its unproblematic content, the storytelling feels odd. Not because there is something wrong with six minutes of chaotic energy ending in true love, but because the chaos distracts from any depth that her lyrics had to begin with.
In the past, Swift directed a nearly 15-minute short film for her song “All Too Well (10-Minute Version).” In that short film, dialogue interrupts the music to develop the story of the lyrics. In “Opalite,” subtitles portraying dialogue while the music plays feels like an attempt at comedy that makes the story hard to follow.
As Valentine’s Day weekend fades and midterms begin to loom, some Hillsdale students may briefly wonder if Swift’s opalite spray could turn their copy of “The Odyssey” into a boyfriend in a sparkly green tracksuit. But they probably don’t need to spend six minutes of precious time studying to watch its effects play out on supposedly socially awkward celebrities.
