For my English 111 class, we had to do a film review-- for a variety of reasons (partially because I love Lana, partially because I felt it would be a creative choice, partially because I was almost out of time), I chose to review Lana's iconic 2013 music video/short film TROPICO. Below is my review! I don't believe it's my best work, especially since it was rather last-minute, and I may have been a bit harsh on the film, but here it is, regardless! Please tell me what you think of the review, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the film as well!:
Film Review: Tropico
“And the spirit of John moved upon the face of the waters. And John said, Let there be light: and there was light. And John saw that it was good.” This quotation, a reconfiguration of a familiar verse from the Holy Bible, begins Lana Del Rey’s short film, Tropico. From this point on, the film is positively rife with symbolism, metaphor, and similar appropriation of visuals, quotations, and iconography, all feeding into a biblically-inspired tale of “sin and redemption,” as Del Rey called it at the film’s theatrical premiere. Scored by selections from Del Rey’s 2012 extended play Paradise, and interspersed with scenes of dialogue and spoken-word poetry, the film is a sonic and visual feast. However, in spite of Del Rey’s use of stunning visuals, music, and such high-arching allegory and philosophy, viewers are left wondering if the film means anything at all, or if the twenty-seven minute short is anything more than an extended music video.
Tropico opens with scenes of beginnings and creation: primordial, kaleidoscopic waters rush and fold into one another, stars flash brilliantly and are born in space, a sun rises, a rose opens, and clouds roll through a glowing sky, all against the aforementioned Bible verse. A figure representing John Wayne seems to preside over the affair, and Del Rey, dressed as the Mother Mary, prays feverently that he shall forgive her of her sins. Moving to a neon-colored Garden of Eden, Wayne is joined by Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and Jesus, along with Del Rey and her consort, Shaun Ross, garbed as Adam and Eve. Here begins a strange meld of Del Rey’s own passions: familiar images from the bible-- creation, the holy mother, Eden, Jesus-- are mixed and assimilated with images decidedly familiar to American culture: the cowboy, the rockstar, and the bombshell, all icons and superstars in the USA’s media-heavy society. Their voices fade in and out, spouting out catchphrases (Monroe quips: “Sex is a part of nature… and I go along with nature!”) amidst heavy radio frequency, heightening the surrealistic nature of Del Rey’s land of pop culture and spirituality.
Tropico’s story continues as one would expect: Adam and Eve, entranced by a serpent in the garden, eat the forbidden fruit and are cast out-- however, this new-age Adam and Eve land in Los Angeles, and their downfall is depicted as Del Rey reads excerpts of Walt Whitman’s poem I Sing the Body Electric. Del Rey and Ross’ Eden quickly dissolves into various scenes of squalor and ennui-- a seedy strip joint, a dingy supermarket, a tacky mobile home. Before long, the low-income, low-class lovers tire of and abandon this drudgery, clashing with their more affluent neighbors as Adam and a gang of thugs break into a penthouse hosting a party of wealthy men (and their female entertainment), sealing their place in history as God’s wayward children, well-meaning man and woman who took the path most clearly presented to them, even when it was the wrong choice. Here is one of the few times it feels Tropico really hits its mark: perhaps, it makes one consider, the sensationalized gangsters and “thugs” that run rampant in modern media are nothing more than confused children, the “good kids” driven bad by desperation, or a lack of options. Del Rey’s music, described by one interviewer as “dreamy and dramatic, soaked in Americana and nostalgia, spiked with glamorous violence and loopy nonsensicality,” fits right in with this vision of the American Dream gone dark.
After Tropico’s Adam and Eve hit this point, the lowest of low, the only choice left seems to be absolution. Del Rey croons her song “Bel Air”, with its refrain of “I don’t wanna be bad, I won’t cheat you no more,” as Adam and Eve are baptized and reborn, watched over by omnipresent John Wayne and Del Rey’s ceaselessly praying Mary. They are forgiven, they embrace, and they ascend into the clouds, ending the film-- however, questions remain long after the credits have rolled.
Del Rey’s film is visually and audibly stunning, that’s for certain. Colors are used to awe-inspiring effect throughout the film: Eden is full of vibrant pinks, greens and reds, Adam and Eve’s Earth after the fall is drab, full of muted tans and off-whites, both the penthouse party and the strip club are coated in icy blues and silvers, and the rolling paradise-esque fields at the end are sun-drenched, with Adam and Eve changing out of solid black into pure white garments. The use of color and strong visuals is complemented perfectly by Del Rey’s music, which exists as some hybrid of jazz, pop, and orchestral music-- a perfect match for Tropico’s mixing and matching of times, places, and symbols.
Despite the brilliant aesthetics, Tropico lacks substance. It presents itself as an epic, but never really delivers. While all of Tropico’s references, allusions, and appropriations seem to be used to make it legitimate art, and not just a music video in long-form, they instead make it feel plagiaristic and borrowed. Real, raw emotion is replaced with flashy visuals and heavy-handed symbolism, stripping Tropico of anything really human, which is disappointing. It’s as if Del Rey’s pretentiousness is her downfall-- if Tropico, which presents itself as a story of the human condition on a grand scale, were to be more human, perhaps it would meet its potential. Instead, it never really lifts off and feels as if it were only the trailer or preview for something much bigger.
In spite of these shortcomings, Tropico remains a stunning example of music videos as an art form. To call it a short film is misadvertisement, but to call it only a music video is selling it short. Tropico pushes boundaries, unafraid to mix the sacred and the squalid, and blurs the line between what’s art and what’s commercial. All in all, it may not meet the lofty goals it sets for itself, but entirely succeeds as a film that is entertaining, entrancing, and exciting to view.
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