Redfoo versus Taylor Swift: who is the real satirist?

You know how it goes. We’ve been waiting for months for a truly satirical music video, then two turn up at once: Taylor Swift’s Blank Space and Play-N-Skillz’s Literally I Can’t, featuring Redfoo, Lil Jon and Enertia McFly.

One has been widely dismissed as sexist trash, the other as a striking piece of true-to-life sociopolitical commentary. You might feel confident you know which video received which reaction, but certain slices of the popular men’s movement are here to tell us that Literally I Can’t has been unfairly sledged, and it’s Swift who is the true sexist.

As one disbelieving commenter wrote in response to a Guardian Australia story on Redfoo’s part in the offending video: “Taylor Swift throwing a plant at a guy, cutting up his clothes and smashing his car with a golf club in a music video = good. Redfoo telling some sorority girls to shut the f#@k up in a music video = bad.”

The logic, if you can call it that, runs that it’s hypocritical to praise a video in which Swift depicts highly stylised aggression against a man, while decrying a song in which Redfoo & Co detail brazen contempt for women who dare to turn them down.

But before you discount this as a bubble of men’s rights methane prompted by some feminist cultural indigestion, let’s take this opportunity to compare and contrast two videos that put their gender politics (or lack thereof) front and centre.

For those just coming up to speed, Swift debuted her faintly Gone Girl-esque Blank Space psychodrama in the past week, while the video for Literally I Can’t (dropping on YouTube just before Halloween without much fanfare) suddenly screamed into the headlines courtesy of its alleged “satire” of American college life.

I put satire in scare quotes because Redfoo, who provides the song’s verse, seems to think that making a video for a song whose refrain literally (sorry) tells women to “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”, where sorority girls (albeit fictional ones) are shamed and filmed without consent is a satire of … well, it’s anyone’s guess.

Does Redfoo understand the concept? The LMFAO singer took to Twitter to shoot down reaction to the video, whining that it was another example of “critics victimizing an artist by purposely misinterpreting his/her work to support a pre-existing agenda.”

— Redfoo (@RedFoo) November 11, 2014

Another example of critics victimizing an artist by purposely misinterpreting his/her work to support a pre-existing agenda. #LiterallyICant

In truth, the unpleasantness of Literally I Can’t lies less in its dumb video than in lyrics like “Work it while I Instagram ya/Shh, don’t talk about it, be about it/Work it, and twerk it, and maybe I’ll Tweet about it” – the meme-ification of recent rape cases like that in Steubenville, where the sexual assault of young women becomes “content” for the quick-share panopticon of social media.

The video, directed by frequent Redfoo/LMFAO collaborator Mickey Finnegan, only adds insult to injury. Following the fracas, it’s now preceded by a title card that reads: “The following is a satirical video based on Sororities/Fraternities and the cliche ‘Literally I Can’t.’ This content is in no way to be interpreted as misogynistic or negative towards any groups of people. It is an art piece and it shall be taken as such.”

They’re right except for two points. Fistly, it very clearly is intended to be negative, namely towards the stuck-up sorority sisters who refuse to go “girl on girl” or have a “shot of vodka”. And more compellingly, because it’s rubbish. Suggesting Literally I Can’t is an art piece is like arguing that Porky’s II: The Next Day is a nuanced exploration of racial politics up there with Do the Right Thing.

It’s more than possible to explore misogyny via the medium of music video without it turning out like a straight-to-VOD sequel to Bad Neighbours – Jonas Åkerlund’s masterful Smack My Bitch Up springs to mind. But, coupled with its lyrical content, Literally I Can’t comes off about as concerned with genuine social commentary as an episode of Dancing with the Stars.

By comparison, the video for Swift’s Blank Space (a song in which the singer explores her “boy crazy” reputation) can rightly claim to be satire, or at the very least impressive self-parody. Directed by Joseph Kahn (who we have to thank for Britney Spears’ Toxic and Eminem’s Without Me videos among many others), the half-winking thriller depicts Swift as a devoted girlfriend from the bunny-boiler school.

It’s been widely acclaimed as a witty take on Swift’s public persona – “a world where the narrow and sexist caricatures attached to women are acted out for our amusement”, Jessica Valenti wrote. It’s also a middle finger to her (predominantly older male) critics and a leap forward for a pop star whose previous “gee whiz” video persona (see Shake It Off) came off as disingenuous.

Blank Space does not dismantle paradigms (though Swift cutting up of her boyfriend’s shirt is “almost certainly a metaphor for cuts to public services in an age of austerity” as Michael Hann’s enjoyable skewering puts it). Nor does it begin to approach the giddy heights of 5ive’s Let’s Dance video, a masterpiece that elevated pop self-awareness to levels unmatched before or since.

But viewed within the context of what Swift is permitted to do as an artist and how she is expected to present herself, Blank Space feels revolutionary. Crucially, and in contrast with Play-N-Skillz’s sinister meanness, Swift is her own best target. Not that I expect Redfoo, who I suspect was the one leaving all those comments on the Guardian last week, would understand that.