If anyone can bring wry wit to a sunny California backdrop, it’s Carly Rae Jepsen. She already brought straightforward “sunny (read: often burning) California” vibes to us with the video for “Western Wind,” so with “Beach House,” the second single from her upcoming album, The Loneliest Time, Jepsen has opted to be a little more tongue-in-cheek. And while the message behind “Beach House” applies to the nature of men worldwide, there’s no denying a particular sort of flightiness to the California breed (whether native or transplant). Hence, Jepsen setting the sandy stage (a metaphorical term that will become very literal) of her tale right on the beach, with two friends sitting to her left and right, the blonde one demanding, “Okay, give us the tea.”
Jepsen replies unconvincingly, “I told you it’s… been good.” Her brunette friend asks, “Are you seeing anybody?” She shrugs, “I been on a few dates.” The brunette gushes, “Dates? You lucky woman. Last time Doug and I attempted intimacy, he cut his foot on a Lego and ended up in the ER.” The blonde adds, “I miss it… a couple dirty martinis, falling into the arms of a muscular man who doesn’t know my social security number.” Jepsen assures, “You guys don’t know what it’s like out there.” The brunette urges, “Well do tell.” Seeming to surrender to her fate of serving as fodder and entertainment for her coupled friends, Jepsen readily rises from her lounge chair as someone queues up the record and a painted backdrop appears at the same time as Jepsen suddenly gets a Gidget-esque costume change.
We’re then presented with lyrics that echo the “rattling them off” tone of Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next”—but in a far less “I don’t give a fuck” way as Jepsen commences, “Boy number one made a picnic for two/Saw he was nervous, I thought it was cute/Until I found out that his mom made the food/It was good though.” Jepsen then takes us into the next horrifying scenario: “Boy number two had a beautiful face/I highly agreed to go back to his place/His wife really had some impeccable taste/She was sweet though.” That last line mirroring Alanis when she sang in “Ironic,” “It’s meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife.” Perhaps yet another reason men will make the case for “open” marriages (a.k.a. he gets to insert himself into whatever he likes and his wife can stay at home wondering about all the STDs she might soon incur).
Directed by Taylor Fauntleroy (who also did “Western Wind”), there are plenty of overhead shots of Jepsen in “Britney pose” (a reference to her lying down in that white circle in the “Oops!…I Did It Again” video) on her beach towel surrounded by the many men who have disappointed her (all positioned in a circular shape around her, because, like circles, disappointment has no end). Sending out a rallying cry in the form of, “Boys around the world/I want to believe that when you chase a girl/It’s not just hunting season,” Jepsen’s pain and disillusionment are turned into “just another story to tell” to her friends. At the same time, she woefully admits, “I’ve been on this ride/This rollercoaster’s a carousel/And I’m getting nowhere.” That “I’m getting nowhere” said in such a way as to almost sound like, “I’m getting older”—the ultimate feminine fear when it comes to “making the cut” in time to “find someone.” Before all men view her as “day-old bread.” Because, try as (patriarchal) society might to insist it’s become “progressive,” everyone knows that “older” women are frequently disregarded by men of every age in the dating pool. Especially in a milieu like Los Angeles.
As Jepsen gives us an incomparable bridge that takes the entire premise to new comedic heights (in that a girl has to laugh to keep from crying), she coordinates the ensuing scenes to match the lyrics as said from a man’s casually diabolical perspective. This includes, “Got a weekend in paradise/And I’m probably gonna never call you/I’m probably gonna hurt you.” Another line is all too relatable to anybody who was subjected to the Tinder Swindler as another man insists, “I got big plans to take care of you/I just need to borrow ten thousand dollars/I’m probably gonna hurt you.” The real clincher, however, is another man who declares, “I got a lake house in Canada/And I’m probably gonna harvest your organs.”
When she concludes the dance number with a final round of the chorus, her two friends reluctantly clap until the brunette says, “You should start seeing somebody.” The blonde friend automatically assumes she’s referring to Jepsen going on dates again despite what a shitshow it all is and agrees, “Yeah, like, what about that guy over there?” Jepsen turns to see a tall dark stranger in the distance. The brunette notes, “I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of a qualified medical professional, but yeah, that guy’s pretty hot.” Jepsen, influenced by her friends, waves at him eagerly. Meanwhile, the guy’s friend tells him over the phone, “Dude, go get her number. What are you doing?” He replies, “I just witnessed like a five-minute dance scene and I hate theater—I need to get the fuck out of here.”
With that, Jepsen is spared another waste of time and more “hurt feelings” (as though feelings can really be hurt anymore once a girl has become numb after enough pain—or, as Lana Del Rey put it, “If he’s a serial killer, then what’s the worst that can happen to a girl who’s already hurt?/I’m already hurt”). So it is that her coupled friends will simply have to wait until the next get-together to hear a new batch of horrors from their “afflicted” single friend.
