On "Livin' That Life"
Charli XCX & the "Von Dutch" Music Video
it’s okay to just admit that you’re jealous of her
Brat, Charli XCX’s sixth studio album, was released on June 7th, 2024, and was met with acclaim from critics and casual listeners alike. Whether you like her music or not, her grip on the pop culture zeitgeist is undeniable.
Brat’s aesthetic is instantly recognizable: blurry sans serif font against a hideous “Brat green” background. In an interview with the New York Times, designer Brent David Freaney revealed Charli’s directive: “I don’t want this to feel like it has any taste. I want it to feel off-putting and kind of garish.”
Despite the intent to alienate, Brat has resonated throughout mainstream culture, and Chari's influence resounds far beyond the industrial frivolity of pop music.
On July 21st, the day Joe Biden withdrew from the 2024 presidential election, Charli tweeted, “Kamala IS brat.” Her three-word endorsement was rocket fuel for the presumptive Democratic nominee, and the Harris campaign quickly embraced Brat across all social media platforms.
Charli has since released a deluxe version of the album: Brat and it’s the same but there’s three more songs so it’s not. A full album of remixes, Brat and It's Completely Different but Also Still Brat, dropped today.
At the pinnacle of success, it’s safe to say that the British popstar and Democratic party queenmaker is “livin’ that life.” But what exactly is “that life” like? Let’s take a close look at the music video for “Von Dutch,” a seemingly fun music video whose statement coheres in its final moments.
In “Von Dutch,” Charli exemplifies the “Brat” ethos: cocky, confrontational, unapologetic, chaotic, and deliciously self-aware. It’s a shining example of the threads of subversive irony that run through Charli’s work, belying an unexpected emotional vulnerability. There’s a latent poignancy that runs through Charli’s recent albums, easily missed amid the brash antics of the pop star’s projected persona.
It’s noteworthy that the first image of “Von Dutch” is a female body photographed in the textbook “male gaze” that Laura Mulvey explores in her seminal essay “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema.”
Scantily clad and photographed in a sexually compromising position, viewers are immediately presented with the titillating flesh of an alluring, faceless woman. Decapitated by the edge of the frame, the fetishized object lacks identity and humanity. We are not shown a whole person, only legs, ass, tits, and a tiny waist. All the easier to fetishize.
The camera pans left, revealing Charli’s face. The advertisement for Charli XCX (est. 1992) has the tagline “Your number one.” The dynamic between the “object of visual pleasure” and “the observer” shifts once we see the full advertisement.
The advertisement isn’t particularly obscene. It’s on par with your standard perfume advert, but we aren’t being sold a signature fragrance. Charli herself is the product, and she’s a hot fucking commodity.
Isn’t having her image plastered on a billboard a manifestation of Charli's success? Within her own music video, the hypersexual commodification of Charli’s image is empowering, right? She’s “livin’ that life!”
The camera pans to reveal Charli being hounded by a gaggle of paparazzi. As Charli stomps through Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, she tells us in her tinny vocal timbre, “It’s okay to just admit that you’re jealous of me. Yeah, I heard you talk about me; that’s the word on the street.”
Ignoring two fans holding handwritten signs, she addresses the camera and continues, “You're obsessin', just confess it, put your hands up. It's obvious, I'm your number one.”
Charli pushes the camera out of her face, a hostility we’ve come to expect from A-list celebrities. She’s far from the first to want privacy from the leering cameras of TMZ photographers and fans rabid for selfies. As the video progresses, the camera continues to stalk Charli.
The shaky, handheld cinematography makes her interactions with the camera feel more visceral. Broadly speaking, the video lacks a certain polish, and in that way, it's so Brat.
The camera work also allows for a fluidity of movement that facilitates the choreography between Charli and the camera because, despite her physical rejection of the stalking camera, she never stops performing for it.
As the song shifts into second gear, her vocals become more robust. On a motorized walkway, she struts, twirls, and poses for the camera. Serving cunt, she sings, “It’s alright to just admit that I’m the fantasy.”
She repeats her assertion that “we’re obsessin’,” she commands that we “confess it” and demands we “put our hands up,” and concludes again and again that “It’s obvious I’m your number one.” Then the chorus drops, the music intensifies, and Charli attacks the camera head-on, bloodying her forehead and stepping over the camera.
She continues her rockstar antics, blazing through the terminal with unapologetic entitlement to behave however the fuck she wants to. She hops turnstiles, sprints through corridors, and hitches a ride on the back of a floor scrubber.
This is the first example of explicit degradation in “Von Dutch,” but it’s comical. Like the billboard at the beginning of the video, Charli is fully complicit in her degradation.
So, perhaps being dragged on the floor isn’t innately degrading? Maybe Charli is just an unruly badass with a devil-may-care attitude. Charli is a shining star. Charli is the scum that sweeps and shines the floor.
However, as the camera chases Charli onto an empty plane, the dynamic between Charli (the subject) and her persistent pursuer (you, with the camera acting as your proxy) becomes increasingly abusive, violent, and destructive.
The camera frantically searches for Charli, and it finds her hiding on the ceiling, wedged between overhead bins. She drops, punching us in the face.
Charli and the camera play cat and mouse, hopping over seats to escape while simultaneously performing directly to the camera. She proceeds to the back of the plane and topples a drink cart to slow the camera’s approach. Once more, she punches us in the face. She then settles into the flight attendant’s seat beside an open cabin door. She poses, her hair billowing as she models for us, selling sex in true music video fashion.
Then, she pushes us down the stairs. Looking up from the ground, Charli slowly descends, serving with each step, until she arrives face to face with the camera. She spits on us. We love it.
The only other person whose attention, contemptuous though it may be, constitutes a compliment is Mean Girls (2004) Regina George.
Sprinting onto the tarmac, Charli climbs onto the wing of an Airbus A380 via its landing gear.
After posing, crawling, and scrapping with the camera, Charli, bloodied and in tattered clothing, kisses us goodbye and takes a dive.
Fear not! Charli is a Brat, blazing through a world of her own, devoid of consequence. She’s larger than life and unbeholden to reality.
Living on the edge, a Brat doesn’t fear the fall. For Charli, there’s always something to catch her, and she lands safely on a trolly of luggage. The camera charges Charli for the final time, and she swings a suitcase, plunging us into darkness.
Cut to baggage claim, where a bruised and beaten Charli lies among suitcases. In the background, the opening shots of “Von Dutch” play on the news. The glitzy life of a jet-setting Brat and her battle with the cameras has taken its toll.
Surprise, surprise! The music video where Charli physically fights the camera proves to be a confrontational viewing experience. As the interplay between Charli and the camera illustrates, her relationship with the spotlight is contemptuous and degrading.
Personifying a brand, as Charli does with Brat, is a hallmark of her success. As a brand, Charli transcends personhood, but at what cost? The girl from Essex becomes the girl on the billboard. She’s not a human being; she’s a product, an object for our consumption.
I, for one, eat it up. I live for my Brat bitch queen. She’s “my number one,” but is “that life” really worth livin’? The video for “Von Dutch” suggests no, it’s not. Yet, for the sake of the brand, she continues to perpetuate its appeal. Her brand’s survival depends on it, and Charli knows it. A stinging self-awareness pops through her seemingly superficial work.
It’s okay to admit that you’re jealous of her. It’s alright to just admit that she’s the fantasy.
Her lifestyle will always be appealing because it’s expensive and exclusive. You and I can’t have it. We are reminded again and again that we couldn’t do it if we tried. However, if we were to succeed by some miracle, “Von Dutch” tells us that it wouldn’t bring us any closer to contentment.
The first time I watched Von Dutch, I thought it was a fun but superficial music video. I only understood its meaning upon seeing the final shot. What begins as a rebellious romp finds our “number one” reduced to baggage, lugged from destination to destination without much care for the object in transit.
The video is bookended by Charli being passed over by the camera. In the beginning, she is an airbrushed, aspirational embodiment of desire and success. A searching camera glosses over the advertisement in search of the “real Charli.” In the end, Charli is a piece of luggage, swept off camera by a conveyor belt, with a fixed, stable camera in tow. She is passively carried forward by the machine, much worse for wear, as she continues “livin’ that life.”
Until next time, I’ll be bumping that beat, my fellow film freaks.
When the song came out last February you just knew we were in for something special with Brat.
And the video reminded me of The Beastie Boys Sabatoge.