Who is Mr. Brightside?
The Killers’ “Mr. Brightside” was an astonishing single that immediately put the band on the map. Brandon Flowers’s passionate, soulful voice breathes life into an anthem of loneliness, love, and anxiety, as the titular Mr. Brightside struggles with his relationship with an unfaithful ex. Despite his optimistic name, Mr. Brightside is forced to confront the lies and cheating that tore apart his relationship, but he looks confidently to a brighter future — a destiny that is calling him. One day he will find true love.
At least, that’s the most common interpretation. Here, I posit an alternative: rather than the cuckolded partner, Mr. Brightside is paramour to a married woman. Drawn into a polyamorous arrangement, he cannot set aside his feelings, and instead makes a desperate play for the monogamous relationship he and his lover can never share.
My support for this thesis comes from the Moulin Rouge-themed music video that accompanied the 2004 re-release of the single. While the evidence is not conclusive, I believe I can cast enough doubt on the prevailing interpretation to open the door to more radical re-imaginings of the Mr. Brightside mythos.
As we begin, Flowers and the Killers stand on stage before an array of lounging bohemians. The opulence of the surroundings is immediately noticeable. To me, it is clear that they have been hired to provide entertainment for the night’s affair; the crowd is small and intimate, clearly comfortable with each other. These are not strangers attending a performance, they are friends having a party at home.
Here we also meet the Woman in question and, in a bit of foreshadowing, her amorous partner. I want to note a few things here.
The Woman looks bored. Brandon Flowers does not have her attention. She looks as though this is a chore she must get through. This could be because she has grown bored of their relationship — or it could be because she does not yet know him. I suggest that this party was organized by her husband and she, weary of his dissolute lifestyle, is merely sitting through it. Her marriage has become joyless.
Here is her Beau. Note his age — he seems a bit older than his companions. That, combined with his regal posture and elevated seat, suggests to me that he holds a leadership role. I believe this is his party. He is happy, ready for the music to begin. He sees his wife’s discontent; it is all part of his plan. Note the apple he holds. The biblical apple suggests temptation — this man is the snake, and Flowers is Eve.
As Flowers begins to sing, the Beau tosses the Woman the apple and points to the stage. He is signaling that she is the apple — the temptation. He indicates Flowers. It seems he is giving instructions: she is to seduce Flowers. The Woman is familiar with the Beau’s games.
She perks up when she receives the apple. Receiving it has released her to pursue new lovers. She places it with other apples on a nearby table — suggesting that they have undertaken this same game many times before.
Now she takes a nearby man by the hand and leads him away. Note the expression of boredom on her face. This is part of the Beau’s game, and one she is likely sick of by now. Her devotion to him keeps her at it, but the joy has gone out of it for her. As if on cue, her action seems to release the partiers from stasis, and they go at it with wild abandon — caressing, kissing, stroking, and fondling each other. The party is not an orgy, but it is clearly a polyamorous affair, where the revelers can share freely in each other’s sexuality. The Woman is seen with a few different men at this point, flirting and dancing. She has not yet seduced Flowers, though. Her Beau tosses her another apple, as if to remind her of her duty. He isn’t happy — she’s not doing what she was supposed to.
These people are very wealthy and very bored. Everyone present at this party has had everyone else, probably dozens of times. The Beau craves novelty. Seeing his wife seduce new men is the only thing left that brings him joy. He doesn’t just want to see her re-iterate with his hedonistic peers. That’s why they invited Flowers and the Killers in the first place.
She gets the message and excuses herself from her erstwhile partner. And her Beau smiles. Finally, he’s getting the show he paid for. Finally, she’s doing what he wanted. Here, Flowers begins to sing “I just can’t look, it’s killing me,” suggesting that he is becoming distracted by the Woman. He’s falling in love with her. That’s not right — he’s the musician, he’s the help. He can’t look at her, it’s dangerous. He’s thinking thoughts he shouldn’t.
She seduces Brandon and whirls him backstage. Their movements are furtive, like eloping lovers skulking away from their chaperones. This makes sense; it’s all part of the game. The Woman knows the score, but Flowers doesn’t. As far as he’s concerned this beauty has fallen for him and wants to sneak away with him. Flowers sings here about taking control, but it’s clear that he’s referring to her. He’s in the palm of her hand.
She does appear the be genuinely excited as she leads him backstage, but it’s impossible to know how much of that is an act. I choose to believe that she sees something in Flowers, some spark of connection, and dares to imagine a life outside of the paralyzing boredom and cruel manipulation of her Beau. It will come to naught, of course, but the hope is precious while it lasts.
They cannot escape reality. This is a game, a game played by a powerful and calculating man. He watches to make sure it goes down as he intends. Does he derive a sexual thrill from it all? Is he experiencing compersion, or is he into cuckoldry? Perhaps it is only the satisfaction of seeing his puppets dance to his tune. The first chorus here is sung with a cocky swagger. Flowers acknowledges the jealousy his relationship with the Woman might be causing to the Beau, but shrugs it off as the “price I pay” for such a passionate affair. At this point he still sees her feelings as genuine. Destiny is calling him, a new love with a beautiful Woman. His eyes are open to it, he’s eager to begin. The optimism of Mr. Brightside seems to be fully warranted here.
When we next see them together, they are on a balcony, watching the fireworks below. The fireworks imply that tonight is a special night, some sort of celebration. That makes sense. Flowers has been hired to entertain a party, perhaps for Independence Day, Bastille Day, or a similar holiday. Note how the Woman looks over her shoulder as she joins Flowers. She knows that her Beau is watching to make sure his plan comes to fruition. It disgusts her. Does she feel a true connection to Flowers? Does she see in him a glimmer of hope to escape her gilded cage?
She joins him, and they are about to kiss, but she cannot. She looks back, nervous. What would it mean to truly leave the Beau? As unhappy as she is, can she cast her life aside in favor of uncertainty? Can she break the cycle?
She cannot. She flees back to the arms of the Beau, who saw all this coming. Note that he is eating the apple — the symbol of temptation, it is ultimately just for him. The apple is his prize, to be dangled in front of Flowers but never truly shared.
Is the game over? The Woman keeps looking back at Flowers. Her Beau tries to monopolize her attention, but she can’t help but sneak a peek. She regrets using him so cruelly, and cannot forget the connection they shared, if only for a moment.
The Beau notices this and tosses her to the ground. He has no use for a partner he cannot control. The Woman is a toy to him, just like everyone else, a tool he uses to play his sinister games. If she is thinking for herself she is no longer of use. Abandoned, the Woman sulks. Now Flowers is singing about how it all started with a kiss. He’s lost, confused — he doesn’t know how he got to this point, what hidden strings he never saw. You can see his anxiety and self-doubt as he sits in the couch, pondering “how did it end up like this?” His earnest declaration that “it was only a kiss” seems to be a willful denial of the true connection he felt with the Woman.
Unable to envision life truly on her own she has taken on a new partner, a black-haired man. But something odd is happening. Intercut with scenes of her lounging with this man, we see her talking and dancing with Flowers, embracing him on a stage.
The key here is a series of close-ups of the Woman’s face.
She is fantasizing about life with Flowers. She imagines the life they might have together, the love they might share, untainted by the Beau’s manipulations. As this scene begins, Flowers sings about falling asleep — another clue that this is a dream. While in reality she allows herself to be caressed by the black-haired man, in her head she dances joyously with Flowers, an equal rather than a pet or tool. Her partner changes rapidly between Flowers and the black-haired man, indicating that she does not truly desire either one of them. What she wants is a real relationship, a fulfilling one, that recognizes and celebrates her humanity. She dares to dream of it. Flowers may love her, but she loves the freedom he represents.
Despite this, the Beau appears in her fantasies. His hold on her is strong. Even in her own mind, she can’t fully get away from him. She worries that even now, after he has seemingly tossed her aside, she is dancing to his tune, wrapped up in his wicked games. Flowers sings that he just can’t look, and it’s true: we see him massage his temples and shake his head. He cannot bear to see the demolition of his fantasy. As he sings about taking control once again, we see the Beau’s face, erasing any doubt about who is truly in charge of this situation. When he next sings about jealousy, it is clear whose jealousy is being referred to: Flowers’s own. He massages his throat as he says “choking,” clarifying that he is indeed the one suffering now.
We see this vividly as a ghostly Woman dances before a checkerboard on which the Beau and Flowers are playing. The Beau is louche and languid; Flowers looks stressed and angry. This isn’t a game he’s familiar with and it’s clear he’s losing. As the Beau tightens his grip, he grins and blows a kiss, prompting Flowers to stand up and flip the board. He won’t play the Beau’s game. He sings “I never…” as he does, swearing off this whole sordid situation, vowing to never again be drawn into such a web of deceit. Or is it a declaration that he never truly loved her? A sour grapes denial? An acknowledgment that he never truly had her? We cannot know conclusively.
The next few shots of Flowers and the Woman are blurry and out of focus. This dream is fading, unable to reconcile with reality. He cannot truly have her- he can only play the Beau’s game, and he refuses to do that. The fantasy is crumbling apart, represented visually by the blur.
We see Flowers and the Woman on the balcony again, but she has collapsed. The fireworks are gone; the red sky of morning (often indicative of a storm ahead, according to an old sailor’s proverb) is all that remains. She collapses like a puppet with her strings cut. With her collapses any chance for the future together that Flowers had dreamed of. There will be no happy ending for these lovers. Through it all, the Beau eats his apple, the fruits of his victory.
In the end, Flowers walks away. The Woman reaches after him, but it is a desultory wave; she does not grab him, or rush after him. She knows that they have failed. She knows that this story can only end one way.
In my view, this is the only valid interpretation of Mr. Brightside. Brandon Flowers and the Killers are hired to entertain a group of wealthy, hedonistic libertines. Their ringleader is an older man who enjoys using his young, beautiful wife to seduce strangers, taking pleasure in the heartbreak and confusion (as well as perhaps a sexual thrill in the cuckoldry itself). His wife tries to break the cycle and form a real relationship with Flowers, but is ultimately unable to. Flowers must walk away from the toxic situation. Flowers is not the boyfriend of a cheating woman; he is the Other Man in a polyamorous relationship.
