Reviews of fourteen varied music videos, and their filmic inferences, directed by the British singer and songwriter Kate Bush. The videos are in order of year of release.
Martin is a composer and writer. He has authored reviews for Live In London and What’s On London. An essay, ‘Projected Images Of Light’, is available to read online.
THE BIG SKY (1986)
««««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
The song was the fourth single from the album ‘Hounds of Love’. Playful and uplifting – both the music and the imagery. The latter, creating a delightfully patch-worked semi-narrative concerning aviators and childhood fantasy. This in turn plays upon a notion of diversity, as possessing unifying motives. A range of purposefully stereotyped characters are portrayed in tableau, ranging from Horatio Nelson to Superman. However, and cleverly, this is never over-played. Slightly crazy “but in a good way” and Bush is very much playing upon that, as she will, to maximum effect.
The moon as “a disc of silver light” morphs to a central spotlight, highlighting the singer and her musicians. There follows a transcendence from masquerade to a celebratory crowd scene (compromised of members of her fan club, incidentally). It is absolutely wonderful to see Bush and her entourage enjoying the moment. The piece screams of a capture of youthful energy and creativity. Though marked by its 1980s zeitgeist, it remains, nevertheless, timeless, and timelessly inspirational.
HOUNDS OF LOVE (1986)
««««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Fast-paced and fast-moving, alongside its driving and sawing string accompaniment, the video commences with an actor miming dialogue lifted from the British B-Movie classic ‘The Night of The Demon’. Underlying subtleties, though, maintain its freshness. The aforementioned actor is then re-shot as a child, escaping down a corridor, to the echo of Bush’s childlike vocal ostinato. The filmic influence overall is Hitchcock’s ‘The 39 Steps’. This is stagily choreographed but highly effective. Unflinching in the interplay between performance and reality, the fourth wall, though tacit, is never broken. Changes of scene, of indoor and outdoor, are stitched by the consistent rhythm and tempo, falling in and out of synch with the action.
Further references abound. The unconsummated marriage of the
central figures. The party confetti falling like snow onto Bush’s dark locks, as
she yields to the linked buttresses of party guests. Do they see or not see an
unrestrained passion outside their realm? For whoever is coming as her
paramour, the chanteuse confronts her fear – accepting handcuffs in a slow
tango as the dancefloor disperses. It is not for the viewer to decode the
director’s intent. That would be both getting and missing the point: the not
knowing, the holding back, the mystery that pervades. What is clear though is
love is scary, risky, and challenging... but worth chancing your arm for. A set piece you do not want to end, and all the more
potent in its brevity.
A pity that, unlike the music, these videos are not
remastered and re-released.
EXPERIMENT IV (1986)
««« Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
‘Experiment IV’ was released as a single to promote the greatest hits album ‘The Whole Story’. Another beautiful and inspirational song, this time in the ‘Cloudbusting’ mould. The accompanying video, though, feels stilted and somewhat literal. It does not always, on every occasion, pay for a musician to take the directorial rein. A music video can appear either as a different slant or a promotional force for a pop song. Both surface here. And, for all their artistry, these are, of course, promotional videos.
The best feature, as ever, is Bush herself, in an indeed frightening (yet ethereal) blonde wig – concealing a demonic and ‘Alien’-esque alter ego. Peter Vaughan is expectedly wonderful too. However, the presence of other stars including Dawn French and Hugh Laurie does not necessitate success. This comes off as a fun romp and decidedly tongue-in-cheek. A little light relief, counterbalancing the darker undertones of its soundtrack. Worth the watch, though. For Bush, there are always glimmers of genius. The reversal of ‘Music for Pleasure’ as “music to kill” is crafted brilliantly. The closing shot, not only lovely, proves that she’s been killing us for years.
THE SENSUAL WORLD (1989)
«««««
Novercia / Dir. Peter Richardson & Kate Bush
The title track and first single from the album of the same name. A true work of art, co-directed with Peter Richardson (who directed Kate Bush in the ‘Comic Strip’ film ‘Les Dogs’). Sunlight shimmers and scatters on water, the interplay between illumination and movement. Melding the sacred and the sensual, the symbolism of baptism and rebirth. Setting the tone for what unfolds, church bells underscore the moment.
Bush has one foot in the familiar, the other in the wilds. She is both subject and guide, leading us on a tiptoe path. Attired in medieval garb, she prances but never frivolously. Hers is a slow-wound whirligig, a study in balance. Her aloofness is not detachment but possession, an eccentricity tempered by restraint. Her femininity is neither softness or seduction or defiance or strength. Each step, a negotiation between worlds.
Underpinning all is the music and its echoes of the ancient and the traditional. A testament to Bush’s mastery of intertextuality and her ability to draw upon myriad influences. We are aware that we are witnessing a performance within a constructed world. However, far from detracting from emotional power, the artifice enhances it. There is a fade to black and a moment of silence. As with the best of art, we are left wanting more. The video is an exploration of yearning; of sensuality distilled through the lens of rhythm, nature, and Joyce.
THIS WOMAN’S WORK (1989) «««««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Almost impossible to comment. The work in its entirety – the musical and the visual language – speak for themselves. As a director, Bush hits the mark with this video. It would seem that her vision was crystal clear from the start. Tim McInnerny’s contribution, as much as Kate Bush’s, is quietly staggering. Again, there is nothing overplayed. One could begin to dissect its components, the reciprocity of process and time, the real and the imagined... However, its simplicity and effectiveness communicate independently.
It likewise seems arbitrary to mention that Bush appears in opening and closing shots in gentleman’s black tie, at a baby grand. This sequence of tableau concludes with the artist closing the piano lid; a Garbo-esque transposition of emotion to an object. Hers is, after all, a light but deeply assuring touch.
LOVE AND ANGER (1990)
«««« Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Looking for a moment that’ll never happen Living in the gap between past and future…
A mini masterpiece, shimmering with allusion and innovation.
At its heart lies Bush’s characteristic fearlessness, her willingness to
personalise, to distil the private and the mythic into a shared language.
Familiar motifs abound: discs of light, ballet, whirling dervishes, rains of
glitter. And yet, there is a palpable shift. The symbolism turns literal in its
invocation of riches and regalia, orb and sceptre… The trappings of a
figurehead, the currency of authority and spectacle. Dissolving the boundaries between
artifice and authenticity.
We find Bush returning to her roots – to The KT Bush Band
alongside David Gilmour – not in regression but reclamation. She throws
herself with abandon into popular dance formations, bridging the divide between
the cerebral and the corporeal. Glitter bursts at every drumbeat, culminating
in a final flourish: sprayed directly at the viewer, with a self-satisfied
“yeah!” It is, for this artist, a
rare break of the fourth wall. Kate Bush, in contemporary mode, is both a celebration
and a challenge.
ROCKET MAN (1991)
««««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Another performance video but different again, in black-and-white, a cover of the John/Taupin classic. It won The Observer readers’ award
for ‘The Greatest Cover of All Time’. The video, though, is distinctly
conceptual – and lastingly beautiful. Backing singers miming to Bush’s
voice jar but there is zero allusion. Alan Murphy, who died since recording his
guitar part, is represented by a candle.
Bush does not bother to alter the gender of the protagonist
but maintains it, as if or because it doesn’t matter. The symbolism this time (against billowing parachute silk) is cleverly her own.
She morphs, as she will, through a sequence of characters... culminating – of
course – as a conductor of fireworks in the cosmos. You would bestow her the title
if she hadn’t herself. All this, and she plays the ukulele too.
The video is highly “musical”. This is Bush having fun and
inviting us to join. Stylish, chic, and too good to miss. Very nearly
Five Stars for the Hell (or the Heaven) of it.
THE LINE, THE CROSS AND THE CURVE (1994)
««½
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
My abiding memory of ‘The Line, the Cross and the Curve’ was taking my albeit haughty housemate to the local Arts Centre and shrinking in my skin. I believed it would convert him to a Kate Bush fan, but no. I was expecting some form of abstract or Surreal production, an innovative geometric animation as its mathematical title inferred, set to music sparse and new. This occurred in years to come – with the accent on shadow puppetry alongside semi-atonal piano accompaniment (for the ‘50 Words for Snow’ videos). Bush famously described this 40-minute film as “a load of bollocks.” It is more, as critics convey, as series of pop videos strung together. With what? With links which translate poorly – emotive gaps unfilled by the thrown-in musical numbers which subside upon themselves.
How much inspiration is to be had from a figure placed so definingly in a creative bubble? As Terry Staunton wrote at the time, “Can you imagine spending nearly half your life signed to the biggest record company in Britain, while at the same time being cocooned from the rest of the world?” In a kinder light, and as far as the album is concerned, this is a phase of life for Bush when her long-term relationship disbanded, and her beloved mother passed away. The music is superb, its themes universal – offering irony and parallelism, visual in itself. Bush’s efforts in this film, though, miss that artistic balance.
The driving force of the opening number ‘Rubberband Girl’ is not presented as a performance but “in rehearsal.” It fails to hit the mark as a convincing metaphor. A metaphor for what? It is unable to weight the reality it craves; set in a space that is, for most of us, transient or inaccessible. The attempts at acting by most, including Bush, are hammy. Whatever the sudden divergence to an unrelated number – the gorgeous ‘And So Is Love’ – has to do with anything is bewildering. And however brilliant Miranda Richardson is, as some form of summoned-up pixie, she is one more unconvincing preposition.
An overbearing issue is the viewer’s faith in their idol, in
expecting things to take form... It never happens. References to ‘Night of The
Demon’, (a fantastical, faux-futuristic B movie), fail to assist. References to
Powell and Pressburger’s ‘The Red Shoes’ are too much at once. The song
of the same name is terrific, and, yes, alongside the clownlike Lindsay Kemp,
so crazy it is good. Regrettably, shots of Kate with wriggling legs, abjointed
by another actor, add to the unconvincingness. In my edit, these would touch the production floor.
Bush’s stillness at the lap of the medium Lily is out of
synch with the premise of the narration. It is where she loses her audience.
Twenty minutes in, already feels like an eternity. The ‘Lily’ sequence forces a
disjuncture – Bush’s slow and flowing movements in the shoes that previously made
her writhe like a snake. In redux, the entire section could be replaced with
animation à ala ‘The Box of Delights’. I am unsure why, considering the endless
remastering, reissuing, repackaging, of her music, Bush has not considered the
same for this film. The transition between ‘Lily’ and ‘Moments of Pleasure’
conveys potential, if bogged down in self-involvement. However, a commendable
narration extends alongside a rotation of her eyes:
I can’t go on... I am torn between what I was
And what is to become of me
In these shoes every step I take is laced with madness
They fill me with pain and confusion, with thoughts that are not my own
I have danced their dances; I see streets and buildings I know so well
Although I have never been to these places
Together we raced with wild horses till they dropped
We have leapt from cliffs into the raging waters below
And together we tripped from a stage into the pit
I see me falling, I feel my fear and yet I was never here
These shoes are all anger and passion
I am possessed and I no longer have the strength to fight them.
The ‘Moments of Pleasure’ section is nice enough although also
misplaced. As with its preceding sequence, the choreography is lacking. Simply
twirling and whirling cannot sustain an entire musical number. These are unique
songs which do not fit as part of a narrative. Nevertheless, there comes another enjoyable interaction with Miranda Richardson which is imaginative and
well-scripted. Though why, if the shoes are tearing Kate’s mind and body apart,
is she standing still? Such demands upon the viewer are too great. More so,
with an overreaching reliance on theatrics.
This is where my re-edited version in black-and-white morphs, ‘Wizard of
Oz’ style, to “Technicolour”, as Kate and Miranda traipse across snow, ice,
leaf fall, and ripened fruits… To the colourful blaze of the Calypso-styled chant ‘Eat the Music’. Wikipedia notes that “The
standalone video for ‘Eat the Music’ had several differences from the film
version… with additional dancing and singing sequences...” It is a more
considered effort, superior to the original. It could, like the US version of
‘Rubberband Girl’ be reincorporated into an updated version of the whole. Above-bar
scenes with Richardson and Kemp dovetail with effective visuals. Kate slides
back through the looking-glass, Alice-style, before it crashes on the other
side. Washes of fruit against rubble and fire present some pleasingly abstract
shots.
I recall the exit from the arts screening, all those years
ago, overwhelmed with disappointment. However, die-hards discuss it still. And I
review it. As cited on The Kate Bush Encyclopaedia, “The film continues to be
played in arthouse cinemas around the world, such as a screening at Hollywood
Theatre in 2014… along with modern dance interpretations to Bush’s music.” It
is what was overlooked at the time which saves Kate Bush. Her self-awareness,
misnomer-ed in this film, and her willingness to reflect. Even in its year of
release, she commented: “It was very restrictive because it’s not my conceptual
piece from scratch. Also, I’m working around the songs, and I had to put myself
into the film. I would’ve preferred to cast myself in a smaller role. It wasn’t
the ideal situation because it was very rushed, and we had little money. But it
was an intense project. And I’m very glad I went through it, even if the film
is not received well, because I learned so much.” (Now Magazine)
‘The Line, the Cross and the Curve’ could easily be improved
upon, edited to a half-hour film, to fulfil its potential. It remains a missed
opportunity. The best artists have their faults and mishaps which render them
human and likeable. It is in retrospection, too, that Bush’s fans have also
learned much from this questionable yet enduring aspect of her oeuvre.
DEEPER UNDERSTANDING (2011)
«««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
This video, following a seventeen-year gap, accompanies a reworking of the original and stunning song from ‘The Sensual World’ album. An older Kate Bush indeed reveals a deeper, more knowing, and also rawer voice. She returns to the director’s chair in a retelling of the lyric. As with ‘Experiment IV’, this is not always as effective as employing more abstract, less obvious, imagery. However, it certainly marks a return to form, in the same year that its sister album ‘50 Words for Snow’ was released. The musical arrangement is pared down, so that the strength of the musical arrangement prevails.
Events take a Surreal turn but in a more considered fashion than before. The main character, portrayed by Robbie Coltrane, awakes on a sparse white stage shared with elderly relatives. He then takes a “curtain call” to those living. Frances Barber, as always, is also impeccable. The vocals of The Trio Bulgarka are incomparable. At six minutes, it is twice as long as standard pop videos and stands as one of Bush’s better efforts. Tragic and chilling, it would work well in monotone. The closing shot of eyes sliding above the monitor’s lips (à la Jean Cocteau) seem redundant, as if Bush does not yet trust herself – visually – to leave the last word unspoken.
MISTRALDESPAIR (2011)
««««
Noble and Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
‘Mistraldespair’ is an animated short directed by Kate Bush, with animation by Tommy Thompson and Gary Pureton. It stands as testament, albeit brief, to an ever-evolving creative spirit. Borrowing its title from one of Bush’s invented ‘50 words for snow’, the piece illustrates Bush’s refusal to tether to convention. The music is an excerpt from a larger composition titled ‘Misty’. At its core lies a metaphor for love: the relationship between a woman and her fantasy of a snowman who melts when she touches him.
Visually, the animation employs a childlike directness rendering its emotional impact profoundly. It draws the viewer into a sense of intimacy, painting (or un-painting) the gentlest of ‘meltdowns’. A sensation that lingers, due to the powerful dichotomy which Bush and her team create: images at once gentle yet strong, comforting yet unsettling. In comparison to ‘Deeper Understanding’, the discomfort nestles in the inevitability of loss, the unease of longing, and the knowledge that some things exist only in the imagination. The visuals belie an existential melancholy – a uniquely Bushian twist.
Artistry, for Bush, has always been about risk. It is why we are so forgiving towards her. It was somewhere in the liner notes of a boxed set that she commented, “Be kind to my mistakes – because I’m not.” ‘Mistraldespair’ is more than a brief animated interlude. It is a microcosm of Bush’s artistic ethos. Emotionally honest, and seeking new ways to communicate the ineffable. We only hope that her creative exploration continues.
“And dawn will
come soon…”
EIDER FALLS AT LAKE TAHOE (2012) «««««
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
Simple and engaging, this is a gorgeous shadow puppet presentation alongside a highly affecting lyrical piece in which the mature Kate Bush thrives. Photographed by Roger Pratt, with puppets by Robert Allsopp, its historic aspect reaches to the beginnings of moving image with sound. The central figure is, likewise, a Victorian era ghost – a woman who, drowned in the lake, rises to call to her dog. Set in sepia tones, with a featherlight piano accompaniment, it seems at first a more traditional art song before touches of dissonance suggest otherwise. Only in the last minute is percussion gently released.
‘Eider Falls’ prefixes the original title ‘Lake Tahoe’ and is half the length of the album track. This is a five-minute film that passes too quickly. Eider refers to the background of falling feathers which suggest snow or leaf fall. It is also, pleasingly, unlike earlier videos, available to watch in high definition. When the music and the visuals eventually fade, a cutout house – like its owner – appears to shuffle off, off-screen. An apt non-conclusion that very much leaves us wanting more.
Martin’s essay, ‘Projected Images Of Light’, is available to read online.
AND DREAM OF SHEEP (2016) «««««
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
The ‘Before the Dawn’ shows of 2014 marked a return and a reawakening, under the direction of Kate Bush and Adrian Noble. Within this undertaking was a “live” reworking of a track from ‘The Ninth Wave’ song cycle, as a film projected above the stage. This opening number situates the main character adrift, lost at sea, her lifejacket pulsing with a gentle red light.
Bush’s willingness to embody the narrative (she developed mild hypothermia) infuses a palpable chill. When simplicity works it is arresting. She appears in monochrome, save for the orange of the jacket, signalling both danger and hope. It calls to mind Bill Viola’s ‘The Messenger’ as Bush, despite the Mae West, sinks beneath the waves. I ponder the effect if she had kept her eyes open.
It is not an unblemished voice that moves us, but the evidence of time and endurance which surface. The performance is a cumulation of decades of creative exploration. Neither is this merely a showpiece, it is a standalone work; a liminal space in which the audience drown too. This is art at its most honest: raw, imperfect, and, from the depths, human.
THE BASKERVILLE EDITION (Unboxing Video, 2023) «««½
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
This entry underlines an endless re-branding and remastering of a concise back-catalogue unbalanced by anything new. Why not? Why repeat it. It weakens its ardour. Music ain’t books to be reissued. Music is constantly available, minus the need for the physical.
Nevertheless, this is clever enough and, in actuality, lovely enough. Like the repackaging (for those who can afford it), it holds its appeal. This does, though, draw, in parallel, a line on the accessibility of art. Not that it is necessarily catering to a mass market. But neither can it circumvent an aspect of elitism, particularly in the artistic mirror that Bush’s work is considered. This edition of the ‘Hounds of Love’ album will set you back at just under £150.
Such concerns aside, this is a commendable short, relayed in flashbacks and flash-forwards, and rescued by touches of humour. A willing companion piece to the original album, referencing the ‘Cloudbusting’ story and, in turn, ‘A Book of Dreams’ by Peter Reich – the budding author admirably portrayed by Gus Turner. In its best light, it serves as a prequel to the original and faultless ‘Cloudbusting’ video directed by Julian Doyle. Off screen, this time, it is Ian McKellen wrapping things up.
LITTLE SHREW (2025) «««««
Inkubus / Dir. Kate Bush
Another childlike animation far from childish. I am reminded of the quote by CS Lewis, “A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story...” It is based on Bush’s own storyboard as developed by Jim Kay. The soundtrack, an artfully truncated version of a song from the ’50 Words for Snow’ album, beautifully performed by Kate Bush’s son, Bertie. The shrew of the title is a personable characterisation, traversing a black-and-white stratum accented by a pale-yellow comet.
On the ground, the creature emerges from a tunic, before scurrying along an arm, into the hand of a dead soldier. The shrew is caught in an icy torpedo-blast that sends its frail body into spasms. As Bush commented, it causes more outrage to witness an animal suffer than a human. The next shot is a stunning yet appalling illustration, based on a photograph by the late Ukrainian reporter Maksim Levin. The rodent is depicted in free fall, clasping at the ball of light – the glowing astral snowflake.
A task of love, garnering universal acclaim, it was also shown in cinemas as a precursor to the WWII drama ‘From Hilde, With Love’. Kate Bush must take satisfaction from this achievement that, amongst other efforts, deserves to be taken seriously. It collected several awards, including Best Animation Film and Best Female Director Short Film at Cannes. ‘Little Shrew’ is emotionally challenging, simple in spirit, and haunting.
