A metronome ticks. Vines stretch out into the distance. The curtain rises as Lady Gaga, cultural tour de force, platinum blonde hair immaculately coiffed, sits alone in a darkened room and puts pen to paper, writing the first notes of a melody. The piano sounds, and a troupe of statuesque dancers spring to life in the time-worn cloisters of a French monastery. Dressed in a diaphanous blue-grey gown, Lady Gaga gestures and the ensemble follows, motioning in unison towards the heavens. The strings build and, as the music crests, three dancers ascend above the spire of the church.
So goes the short film that forms
