Lady Meets Gaga the Feminist Undoing of a Pop Icon

SooMin Kim1

Lady Meets Gaga The Feminist Undoing of a Pop Icon

Who is Lady Gaga? To this, one may reply thus: “She is an American recording artist born in New York by the name of Stefani Germanotta who has risen to stardom with her string of hit singles since the release of her debut album The Fame in 2008.” Yet this answer is disappointing, even reductive, for the reason that it fails to adequately capture the essence of the woman who has made it her principal priority to defy easy definition. So, once again, who is Lady Gaga? Who is the woman who unabashedly dons a meat dress at the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards? Who is the woman for whom her fans are not her fans but – as she affectionately calls them – her “monsters,” for whom her body is a canvas to be by turns bared and dressed for the purpose of evoking, and thereby experimenting with, her sexuality? And, by extension, is she, the “Lady” who calls herself “Gaga,” a feminist?

It seems so; in her works, she has consistently displayed interest in the ways feminine sexuality is constructed and presented. To elaborate, Lady Gaga can be set apart from other celebrities in the sense that her aim is to go beyond flaunting her womanly appeal; she questions the basis of the allure she commands. In other words, for Lady Gaga, being considered “sexy” matters less than considering the ranges of what it means to be so. Thus, her performances are inevitably wrought with tension, and as a result, she offers an interrogation of conventionally narrow notions of femininity. To illustrate, the music video for “Bad Romance” (the lead single from her second studio album The Fame Monster) will be analyzed; it is my assertion that this visual text serves as an apt example of the feminist agenda carried out by Lady Gaga.

1 graduate student at Ewha Womans University 95

The music video opens with Lady Gaga in the center, sitting on a white throne, surrounded by models and seemingly frozen, her index finger raised just above a button on a music player; she presses, everyone comes to life, the story begins. In the subsequent scene, inside what reads “Bath Haus of Gaga,” bodies begin to emerge from inside white coffins with twitching fingers and jerky movements. It is one of many idiosyncrasies: she is wearing a white body suit and matching high-heeled shoes that cling to and accentuate her physique but the overall effect does not give the impression of sensuality; the mask that covers most of her face and sports a crown of sorts conceals her expression, and this, combined with the spasmic quality of her dancing, serves to confuse whoever is watching. Thus, by overturning formulaic conventions, she toys with the viewer’s expectations in a preview of the deconstruction of femininity that will follow.

Next, Lady Gaga is forcefully taken out of a white tub by two models, and despite protests,

96 poured vodka down her throat. She is taken to a room in which she is made to dance provocatively before numerous men; she even performs a lap dance, after which the recipient decisively flicks a button on his handheld device. He is shown to be her highest bidder; the computer that registers the bid announces a figure of one million Russian rubles. It must be noted that the music video does not shy away from stating an explicit price at which Lady Gaga is rated, and thus, in doing so, firmly maintains the notion that she is a commodity sold and bought. As if to reinforce this, the word SOLD is emblazoned below the sum.

In another scene, she stands encircled by men, rendered helpless by their gazes; it is evinced in the way she is utterly still and vacant-faced. Her scantily clad body and the mantel of glittering jewels that cling to the air around her seem to perpetuate the fact that she exists to fulfill the desires of the men in her company. Later, she approaches the man who has purchased her, who sits waiting expectantly, taking time to sip his drink. Finally, in perhaps the most memorable scene of the entire music video, she lies in bed next to a corpse, presumably of the same man, her lips enclosed around a cigarette, her body smeared with soot in several places, her expression not showing a trace of remorse. Her work now completed, the scene comes to a close.

In essence, the music video of “Bad Romance” is about commodification; as explained, Lady Gaga is treated as little more than a body to be acquired by means of money for men’s pleasure. Thus, she is exhibited before them wearing seductive attire as their approving gazes probe her body and movements. The power of the male gaze is figured as the equivalent of an assault when she is surrounded – or caged – within a circle of men and she is basically silenced and made inanimate. Ultimately, the men, as represented by one, are punished most

97 ruthlessly by Lady Gaga for rendering her so. This trope has also been employed in another Lady Gaga music video, “Paparazzi,” in which Lady Gaga poisons a man’s drink, effectively killing him, following his betrayal. She is arrested for her deed, but the smirk that lingers on her face as she is hauled by the police is the token of her victory. Likewise, the theme of female vengeance is not alien to Lady Gaga’s work; on the contrary, it is a recurring one – always in extreme forms that leave no room for doubt as to the demise of the men targeted – and thus strongly implies Lady Gaga’s willing exploration of the topic. If “exploration” is too neutral and cautious a word, perhaps a fitting replacement would be “subversion.” If women have unjustly been compelled to lead lives and patterns of submission and commodification, Lady Gaga boldly unfolds her design to create her own pattern, one in which she decides that the lady triumphs last.

It is hardly new to suggest that the male gaze is both a powerful and problematic one, not least because it has the tendency to be internalized in the female sense of the self. As aforementioned, Lady Gaga has shown in her music video the discomfiting and troubling aspect of male gazes; yet I suggest that even in the scenes when she is being examined by her male spectators for her desirability, she remains the one exercising power. To paraphrase, by choreographing the music video that puts herself and the men in these positions, she is showing her awareness of the realities of women. Accordingly, amidst the men’s eyes concentrating on her body, she fixes her own gaze on those viewing her; her self-awareness becomes her source of strength. The puppet has turned the tables to become the puppeteer. In between the story sequence of the “Bad Romance” music video, brief shots of a different Lady Gaga are shown: she is almost bare with only a whisper of accessories and adornment.

The camera chooses to focus – as opposed to other scenes – on her face and her unguarded expressions rather than her body. This Lady Gaga is portrayed as tender and vulnerable, a marked contrast from the moments in which her glamorous costumes border on outrageous and seem more like protective armor than clothes. Here, it seems the person in front of the camera is more “Lady” than “Gaga.” Yet, as she untiringly shows, she does not subscribe to a binary logic of either/or and pronounces herself both: she is at once a woman – feminist, she says – who is also “Gaga,” reveling in the extreme, sometimes grotesque, oftentimes unpredictable, all for the purpose of thwarting familiarity and conventional expectations.

In summary, Lady Gaga is essentially a performer – not only of music but also of identity. She can play the part of sultry damsel in distress or femme fatale with a deadly agenda, or even a drag queen – in her “Telephone” music video, which is construed as the sequel to “Paparazzi,” she unhesitatingly flaunts nudity, to which the wardens comment on the fact that she does not have male genitals, as was once rumored in reality. This line seems to capture the mystery and bewilderment that is Lady Gaga. To assume a single and unchanging identity is anathema to her, for everything is a product of artifice, a construction. She exposes and deconstructs rigid labels that often act as the burden that weigh people down, particularly women, who are haunted by restricted ideas of femininity. As a person who has detached herself from such notions, Lady Gaga is liberated, empty; thus, she becomes the platform on which other identities can be tested, absorbed, played out. This allows her to position herself as the bearer of power who asserts identity, rather than submits to it; and, in this context, it seems safe to conclude that Lady Gaga is, in fact, a feminist.