I Am the Art Director for Bananarama’s “Nathan Jones” Music Video and It is Going to Be Immense!

Bananarama!

What does that suggest to the music lover?

Fruit.

Oranges. Apples. Grapes. Lemons.

Not real fruits, though–rubber.

Rubber fruits, rotating quickly in mid-air as though they’re on spits.

Make the spits invisible.

A Classical motif is always very effective.

Statuary, in miniature.

Venuses! (Venusi?) Cherubim!

Rotating in mid-air (like they’re on spits).

Invisible spits.

Naked cherubim bums in shot–rotating bums (always effective).

Boobs (always effective) on the naked Venusi (bums too).

Rotating and immense (but tasteful).

What else?

Flowers.

Doing their flickery, floaty, petally business in front of the camera.

Red business.

Green business.

Yellow business.

Snow business too.

But not real snow–rubber.

Everyone ignores it, of course, but it’s in their faces.

Obscuring people’s faces en route to the ground (always effective).

It just shrieks entre nous.

Hmm. Something’s still missing (apart from Nathan Jones):

A suggestion of Majesty.

Have a tiger sitting on a Grecian column.

Not a real tiger, though–a stuffed one.

Immense.

But small enough to sit on the pillar and rotate.

Like it’s on a spit.

A suggestion of Winter.

Chest-high trees, intimating Christmas.

Frosted all over with rubber snow.

Not a globulous amount of frosting–just a crumb coat.

They’re too phallic–cut off the tips.

And top each one with a voluptuous cherry.

Nipulous!

Background’s looking sparse.

Clutter the shot with men.

Lissome, tender-wristed gents, treading the boards with a gingery grace.

Dressed like gangster bank managers.  

No one who could possibly be mistaken for Nathan Jones (whoever he is).

Bananarma!

I want you in big hats.

Enormous hats.

Immense hats.

And for the men–medium hats.

Bannamama!

You breeze down the runway, flailing your gauzy scarves like a patio screen full of electric fruit bats.

Choreography!

Do the “I’m a little teapot.” dance (always effective).

Now, gesture, like a traffic policeman on a tippy floor.

Men in the back–nod like one of those toy bulldogs people put in the back of their cars.

Now, all of you pretend you’re riding wooden horses.

Invisible wooden horses (always effective).

Blonde woman, stop rolling your eyes.

Yes! I am feeling the absence of Nathan Jones.

Nathan Jones, you’ve been gone too long.

This is simply It.

You’re Banarama.

Banarma.

Barma.

Immense.


Sarah Totton’s work has appeared at McSweeney’sPoints in CaseLittle Old Lady ComedySlackjaw, and The Belladonna. She received an honorable mention in the 2019 Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest and two dishonorable mentions in the Bulwer Lytton Fiction Contest.

Categories: Fiction

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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