Building evermore (yes, it’s a Taylor Swift nod because she does the same thing with her songs and music videos) on the brand that is his sadomasochism, Abel Tesfaye (code name: The Weeknd) has added to the narrative canon of his After Hours collection of videos. Starting with “Heartless” (Dec. 2019) directed by Anton Tammi (with brother Aleksi joining on subsequent videos as well), The Weeknd maintained the thread of the storyline of a red suit jacket-sporting, oversized sunglasses and bandage-wearing “monster” (a monster of excess, if you will) in the videos that followed: “Blinding Lights” (Jan. 2020), “After Hours” (Mar. 2020), “In Your Eyes” (Mar. 2020), “Until I Bleed Out” (Apr. 2020), “Snowchild” (Jul. 2020, and, yes, even in animated form, he stays in character) and “Too Late” (Oct. 2020). Picking up where “In Your Eyes” left off, it’s in “Too Late” that The Weeknd lays the true groundwork for his reconstructive surgery manifesto.
With a long shot of an L.A. street (still The Weeknd’s favorite tableau, even if he’s gone completely “anti-L.A.” at this moment), two vapid putas chat offscreen, though we soon see them in their car. One comments, “I feel really good about surgery this time.” The other assures, “It’s finally the one.” And then: “But I think it’s gonna look really good, you know what I mean?” It’s here that they run into The Weeknd’s decapitated head in the middle of the road from the “In Your Eyes” video. Rather than being horrified, they’re titillated by how “hot” it/he is. They decide to take the head back to their mansion, where things proceed to get real freaky–like Nip/Tuck freaky. Long story short, The Weeknd’s head gets put back on a different body and one supposes that’s how he lives to see another day during which he can get his own surgery–the result of which we see in “Save Your Tears.” On a side note, decapitation is a long-standing motif of the After Hours visuals, even showing up in “Snowchild” when a group of headless chain gang workers are shown toiling behind the Hollywood sign (where was that image in Ryan Murphy’s show, huh?).
Ample speculation about the various layered meanings of The Weeknd’s latest addition to the story post-“Too Late” abounds. For one, some have proffered that the only maskless girl in the room is a Selena Gomez look-alike–but she has more Hadid than Gomez in her aesthetic. Don’t be fooled by the Flashdance-inspired hairstyle (all in keeping with The Weeknd’s patent enthusiasm for the 80s). Ah, and speaking of masks, it seems rather deliberate that The Weeknd should wield them in a dual-meaning kind of way at a time when we’re all being told to sport them for our own safety. Of course, even prior to surgical masks, there were the ones we put on every day to project a certain image, “for our own safety” (the safety of protecting our egos). Whether filters on an app or a persona fortified by a false personality presentation, masks have only proliferated in the post-social media age.
And plastic surgery is a business that has boomed not only in the aftermath of influencer “culture,” but even during the pandemic, when the rise in demand for cosmetic surgery has been believed to be a direct result of constantly having to look at oneself on camera while talking to others–able to notice and pinpoint every “flaw” on a more regular basis. If only Fredric Brandt had lived long enough to see the new potential for his business. And, talking of Brandt, let’s not deny that’s who The Weeknd seems to be modeling himself after with his overly plucked, overly Botox’d aesthetic (in addition to an upgrade to his signature red suit jacket, now sequined and glittery to match with his latest hyper-stylized look). This is also believed to be a jibe at the fakeness of the world of fame he inhabits (filled by the bullshit of rigged awards ceremonies like the Grammys–which, clearly, he still can’t help but care about–and even models like his ex).
Elsewhere, he holds up a trophy a.k.a. loving cup, as though to say an additional “fuck you” to the Grammys for not nominating After Hours in any capacity before throwing it out altogether, just as he delivers the lines, “I broke your heart like someone did to mine/Now you won’t love me for a second time.” Abel then hones in on the only unmasked girl in the crowd, an obvious symbol for how she’s the most beautiful one there for not hiding who or what she really is. She’s also dressed in blue velvet (a nod to LDR for their “Lust For Life” collab?). And that always means things are going to get campy.
“I realize that I’m much too late/You deserve someone better,” The Weeknd croons at the girl he’s now brought up onstage (this after previously jumping on someone else’s table in the spirit of both Harry Styles and trying to emulate a performer at The Box NYC circa 2012–then again, The Weeknd has already made it clear he’s all about 2012 based on his cameo appearance in Uncut Gems, which many have said he’s borrowed from for the purposes of the tone and visuals of this overall project and persona–in addition to Joker, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Casino–oh and pretty much any 80s slasher flick, but particularly John Carpenter’s oeuvre).
All at once, even though he’s holding a gun behind his back as though he’s got it poised to kill, the light flickers and it’s suddenly in her hand, pointing it right at him. This obviously speaks to The Weeknd’s combined self-loathing and self-inflated ego when it comes to dealings with his various (future ex-)girlfriends. More likely than not, the girl in the video is a composite of Hadid and Gomez, with the latter having been the one to break The Weeknd’s heart by running back to Justin Bieber and the former having her heart broken by The Weeknd as a result of him running to Gomez. So now The Weeknd knows what it feels like. It’s all very “he loves her but she loves him and she loves somebody else, you just can’t win.” To reference an 80s track The Weeknd surely appreciates. So yes, it turns from him wielding the gun at her after breaking her heart to her doing the same to him now that she won’t love The Weeknd ever again after what he’s done. She screams, seemingly unable to pull the trigger.
In the next frame, she has vanished, leaving The Weeknd to do the job himself as he aims the trigger toward his temple. When he pulls it, the expected bang sounds, but instead of a bullet being unleashed, it is nothing more than confetti exploding into the air (confetti also noticeably spills forth in the “Until I Bleed Out” video). This appears to further iterate The Weeknd’s intent to highlight how drama (whether suicide-related or not) is manufactured purely for the sake of performance in the realm of Hollywood. The audience proceeds to clap and cheer as The Weeknd grins at them with his eerie prosthetic countenance. Was it all a lie? Or was any of his emotional delivery real? That remains the question The Weeknd wants his listeners to ask as he blurs the line between his true persona and that of his caricaturized alter ego’s.
