YOUTUBE KILLED THE VIDEO STAR
The Directors Label and the auteur era of the music video
With the high barrier of access to MTV and MuchMusic replaced by the easy access and churn of YouTube and TikTok, musicians are now on their own with making music videos.
For directors, the era of David Finchers burning through record company millions in order to jump to feature films was over long ago. With 4k filming available on phones, there isn’t even a need for a music video “director” anymore. (I write this as someone who has worked on about 25 videos since I was a teenager.)
Given just how much this collision of art and advertising changed music forever, and that music videos were a rapid iteration form for anyone who wanted to learn filmmaking, there’s surprisingly very little in terms of film preservation.
The only full and footnoted curation of the music video’s peak era was the Directors Label series of DVDs from Palm Pictures released between 2003 and 2005.1
I’ve collected most of this series from eBay or the floor bins of record stores, and not so much for the nostalgia—more for the filmmaking history. I revisit them every few months to see the ingenuity, problem solving, and sheer invention of very talented directors taking on a paid gig and having one or maybe two days to shoot it. As an era of film, the music video is comparable in its chaotic innovation only to the expressionistic 1920s, or the New Wave 1960s. (Not coincidentally the two eras robbed to the bones by music video directors.)
The Directors Label DVDs were lavish. Most have books included as well as in-depth commentaries and short films. The series wasn’t perfect. The absence of volumes from women— like say Floria Sigismondi or Tamra Davis—is acutely felt. But the series didn’t have time to self-correct, as the DVD format itself was reaching its own peak in 2005. (Not coincidently the same year YouTube launched.)
Twenty years later musicians are still stuck in a Faustian loop. Instead of working for record companies they now work for YouTube and Spotify. This new paradigm does have one significant upside for musicians—total artistic control.
The old paradigm had its upside too—shitloads of money for videos like the following…
Spike Jonze
Video auteur superpower: Making dumb smart
Is there a Björk video: It has the best Björk video ever made
For reference-obsessed men of a certain generation there’s life before the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage,” and life after. And Jonze’s CV doesn’t stop there: “Buddy Holly” by Weezer; “Elektrobank” by the Chemical Brothers; “Praise You” by Fatboy Slim; and Björk’s “It’s Oh So Quiet.” It’s Spike Jonze’s bipolar world of nostalgia and loss that we’re living in now, but it started here.
VMA Moment: Daft Punk’s “Da Funk” for being the first time Jonze showed how much raw pathos he could work into his frame, which pointed to his career beyond Dickies and wallet chains.
Anton Corbijn
Video auteur superpower: Being tall, Dutch, and weird
Is there a Björk video: No, but there’s a short film with David Lynch and Captain Beefheart
Corbijn’s videos were an organic progression from his work as the preeminent alt-rock photographer of the 1980s and ’90s, and his aesthetic of high concept/homemade execution is closest to my own heart out of all these directors. That aesthetic turns a 10 dollar costume rental, a lawn chair, and a Swiss glacier into a grand statement for Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence,” while Nirvana’s rotting collage of “Heart-Shaped Box” gave the band its last scream.
VMA Moment: Nick Cave’s commentary where he politely explains how much he dislikes the video of his song.
Mark Romanek
Video auteur superpower: Making the artist happy
Is there a Björk video: No, but there is Fiona Apple’s “Criminal”
At first, you can’t really break down the elements that make a Mark Romanek video, other than noting the exquisite craftsmanship, and that every concept is sold. Then it hits you: he’s able to give the artist—whether it’s NIN or Fiona Apple—exactly what their song needs.
VMA Moment: Using a hand-cranked camera to film NIN’s “Closer.” Top that, emulsion purists.
Chris Cunningham
Video auteur superpower: Vanished genius
Is there a Björk video: Yes, and the robots will make you cry
If you’re asking what ever happened to Chris Cunningham, obviously you never watched In the Womb: Animal Babies on Disney Plus with your then nine-year-old and spotted Cunningham’s name in the credits for effects design, and then tried to explain to your nine-year-old why that was so cool, and then ended up putting on Cunningham’s video for Squarepusher, which the nine-year-old loved. No matter the reason Cunningham hasn’t directed or been in the public eye for the last decade, I’m glad he’s back this year with some suitably twisted body horror art for the Jeffrey Deitch Gallery.
VMA Moment: It’s nearly Bjork’s “All is Full of Love” but nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever dethrone Aphex Twin’s “Come to Daddy” as the most malevolent video ever made.
Michel Gondry
Video auteur superpower: LEGO
Is there a Björk video: The one where she drives a cartoon tank
Once you learn Gondry is a drummer you can start to see how his brain must work. It’s probably the time signatures that control his body—combined with his love for the live animation of Norman McLaren—that drove Gondry to create the highest water marks of video work from the turn of the millennium.
VMA Moment: While my own brain still breaks every time I think about the layers of choreography in the Chemical Brothers’ “Let Forever Be,” it’s Gondry’s video for Kylie Minogue—fusing slapstick and the quantum multiverse—that does it for me.
Hype Williams has a DVD collection out there, but other than that there are only individual artist compilations. My fantasy director volumes would include Sigismondi, Peter Christopherson, and Russell Mulcahy.