Every great performer is bound to fall metaphorically at times. Other times, however, that fall is literal–just ask Madonna, who barely lived down that infamous fall at the 2015 Brit Awards. And, speaking of Madonna, no stranger to being worshipped by Ariana Grande (see: the “God Is A Woman” music video), Grande saw fit to pay homage once more with her first live performance of “thank u, next” on Ellen. With a wedding cake backdrop and tables and chairs fresh from the reception hall, echoes of “Like A Virgin” were all around as Grande danced and sang in a modern (read: masculinized) take on a wedding dress with two backup singers dressed in white from head-to-toe as well.
Considering Grande’s recent engagement fail, the motif is all too timely. The same cannot be said for her attempt at successfully dismounting from a chair after dancing on it, taking one misstep that led her to trip and scream, “Oh my god!” before laughing it off throughout the rest of the performance–likely much to the karmic satisfaction of the very exes she name checks in the song (save for Mac Miller, who is, of course, dead–no thanks to a certain song Grande wrote on Sweetener).
Getting back to the business of the choreography for the song after recovering from her unexpected I Love Lucy slapstick moment, Grande and her dancers very much borrow from the same choreography featured at the end of Hugh Wilson’s (who likely didn’t help push for the sequel that can never be) The First Wives Club. Showing love for the empowerment of one of the most iconic ending scenes in a movie of the 90s, Grande embodies the spirit of Annie MacDuggan (Diane Keaton), Brenda Morelli (Bette Midler) and Elise Eliot (Goldie Hawn) as they danced on the graves of their past relationships (even though Brenda was ultimately too chicken shit to actually move on). To honor that, the trio very specifically dredges up an old favorite of theirs, “You Don’t Own Me” by Lesley Gore (who fittingly turned out to be a lesbian).
As they each become more confident in embracing the message of the song–“you don’t own me, don’t try to change me in any way/You don’t own me, don’t tie me down ’cause I’ll never stay”–so, too, do their dance moves, perfectly rounded out by draping their white coats over themselves as they finish the song in the streets of Manhattan, in search of nothing and no man in particular. So it is that Grande’s choice in celebrating this specific female empowered pop culture moment–one of the only memorable ones in mainstream 90s film–feels very deliberate indeed. And whether or not she does end up finding someone worth “being tied down for” (which somehow conjures images of Christina Ricci in Black Snake Moan), it’s quite evident that Grande knows the value of her independence, and of her relationship with herself. It’s certainly a far cry from anything women were presented with in Lucy Ricardo’s time. So yes, progress (thankfully not from a Harvey Weinstein-related movie to taint the message of feminine freedom in any way).
