“And the Academy Award for Most Creative Way to Market Drugstore Perfume That Smells Like Cat Urine goes to…”
Cancel your trip to MoMA and throw out that Banksy coffee table book you stole from your dentist’s office, because Justin Bieber’s short film for his new perfume The Key is all you need to know about art, film, culture, hair, and pacing so slow you’ll convince yourself you’ve had a stoke.
If you can get past the blinding lens flares and high art birds (“Don’t drag us into this” – those birds) you’ll get to the slow-roasted meat of this WTF sandwich. What the hell is going on at the 1:12 mark? It looks like a little boy waking his mommy up from a nap (“SpongeBob is over, I’m ready for my juice now.”) 2:09 isn’t any better; I’m not sure who’s lips those are, the random girl’s or Justin’s (just kidding, they’re obviously Bieber’s). And don’t get me started on 3:o1, where Justin feeds that poor girl a macaron; I got the creeps so hard, I felt like I was being ghost-molested. And to whomever was assigned to sexing-up Bieber into a fiery ball of testosterone: you failed. Justin Bieber looks about as butch as a delicate porcelain rose petal; after a while I thought I was watching a trailer for Blue Is The Warmest Color 2: Fancy Lesbians in Paris.