Although Doja Cat has been doing her best to show us snapshots of a planet called Her (apparently the backlot of Chromatica is on loan), the latest video for the album, “You Right,” looks more like a depiction of Mount Olympus. That much is made clear as director Quentin Deronzier opens on a shot of clouds, transporting us to a “gate of heaven”-type entrance. The “playground of Greek gods” feel is further highlighted by a zoom in on Doja atop a pedestal in her own “slutty toga-chic” getup, with hair fashioned as though into the shape of a giant ankh.
A massive scale, made to look like Maat’s Scale of Justice, includes a throbbing heart on one side just before Doja lays some “tarot cards” on the table. Ones that merely feature more video images of herself because: narcissism (again, everything goes back to Greek lore). She then walks yearningly through her garden filled with statues, looking heavenward to see a creepy The Weeknd hovering above. Just lying in wait to say something like, “A couple strokes, I’ll put it in, then you’ll belong to me.” Fucking gross, and also a “feminist” don’t “belong” to nobody, least of all a lecherous man.
But Doja, evidently, doesn’t share those ideas (if working with Dr. Luke on Planet Her and every other album didn’t make that announcement already), feeling the pull of The Weeknd’s giant head in the sky (again, the “subtleties” about pussy being serviced are not subtle at all–and even Cardi B might be like, “Okay bitch, let’s tone it down with the WAP references”). Alas, getting too close to this “god” (presumably of sex) causes Doja to fall right back down to her own earth. Specifically into the bed she shares with the guy she’s no longer really interested in (try as she might to tell herself, “…it’s just nerves, it’s just dick/Making me think ’bout someone new”).
A quick plug for The Pattern astrology app leads Doja to further question if she’s making the right choice by staying with this ho-hum dude next to her. The Weeknd doesn’t leave her much time to think about it as he proceeds to douse her “earth” with plenty of “water.” Giving her a preview of just how wet things can get if she gives in to her desires. Nonetheless, she continues to lie disinterestedly next to her video game-playing white boy, while the waves continue to crash outside for a “super understated” metaphor.
In the end, however, “I can’t help it/I want you” is aimed fully at the man she’s with as she cozies up to him against the backdrop of a calm after a “storm” (read: orgasm likely induced by masturbating to The Weeknd). But lo and behold, she’ll surely be fantasizing about The Weeknd again. Because it’s the capitalist-fueled trap of existence to constantly believe we can have more.
