It starts with a clapperboard. Then, the sweeping landscapes of the Serengeti. Most people remember the Wildest Dreams music video as Taylor Swift’s high-fashion love letter to Old Hollywood, but looking back now, it’s actually a pretty complex piece of media that triggered a massive cultural conversation she probably didn’t see coming.
She was at the peak of her 1989 era. Everything was polished. Everything was calculated.
Then came the lions, the vintage yellow gowns, and Scott Eastwood looking like a mid-century heartthrob. It was stunning. It was also, according to a lot of critics at the time, kinda problematic. People weren't just talking about the aesthetic; they were talking about the setting.
The colonial aesthetic of the Wildest Dreams music video
The video, directed by Joseph Kahn, is basically a "movie within a movie." Swift plays an actress named Marjorie Finn (a nod to her grandmother, Marjorie Finlay) filming a romance in 1950s Africa. It’s supposed to be glamorous. It’s supposed to evoke the vibes of Out of Africa or The English Patient.
But here’s the thing: people noticed something immediately. In a video set in Africa, there were almost no Black people.
This sparked a heated debate about "colonial nostalgia." Critics from outlets like NPR and The Guardian pointed out that the 1950s weren't exactly a magical time for the people living in those regions under colonial rule. They argued that by stripping away the reality of the era to just use the "pretty" backdrop, the Wildest Dreams music video was inadvertently romanticizing a period of deep oppression.
Joseph Kahn didn't take that sitting down. He pointed out that the lead editor, Chancler Haynes, and the producer, Jil Hardin, were Black. He insisted the video was a love story, not a political statement. He also noted that having Black actors in the background of a 1950s film set might have actually been more historically inaccurate for the specific "Hollywood" trope they were parodying. It's a classic example of the "intent vs. impact" debate that dominates internet discourse today.
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The Marjorie Finlay connection
Beyond the controversy, there’s a deeply personal layer here. Taylor has always been obsessed with legacy. By naming her character Marjorie, she was bridging the gap between her current superstardom and her grandmother’s past as an opera singer.
Marjorie Finlay was a real-life performer who toured extensively. When you watch Taylor standing in front of that vintage plane, she isn't just playing a character; she’s cosplaying her own family history. It’s a theme she’d return to much more explicitly years later on the evermore track "marjorie."
Behind the scenes: Lions, giraffes, and actual danger
This wasn't filmed on a green screen in Burbank.
They actually went to Botswana and South Africa. That lion you see lying next to Taylor? That’s a real lion. His name was Vumbura. There’s a shot where she’s leaning against him, and honestly, it’s terrifying if you think about it for more than two seconds.
The production was massive. They had to deal with:
- Unpredictable wildlife (obviously).
- The logistical nightmare of transporting 1950s-era costumes to the middle of the desert.
- Maintaining total secrecy to prevent paparazzi from leaking the "Bad Blood" follow-up.
Kahn has mentioned in interviews that the shoot was grueling. They were chasing "golden hour" light constantly. That shot of the two planes flying in formation over the delta? That required precision flying that you just don't see in pop videos anymore because everyone uses CGI now. There’s a weight to the footage because the dust, the wind, and the heat were all real.
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Why the "Taylor's Version" shift matters
When Taylor re-recorded the song for 1989 (Taylor’s Version), the conversation shifted again. The original video remains a staple of her videography, but the "Wildest Dreams" (TV) release was different. It happened ahead of the full album release because the song went viral on TikTok.
Interestingly, she didn't make a new video. She let the old one stand as a relic of that specific time in her life. It’s a rare moment where the art is allowed to exist in its original context, flaws and all, while the music itself gets "reclaimed."
The fashion: Costume design as storytelling
Every outfit in the Wildest Dreams music video was a deliberate choice by costume designer Erica Cloud.
The yellow dress. You know the one. It’s silk, it catches the wind, and it contrasts perfectly against the earthy tones of the savanna. It was designed to look like something Grace Kelly would wear. Then there’s the khaki safari gear, which sounds boring but was tailored to look like "Hollywood’s version" of a safari—not an actual one.
The hair was a major talking point too. We were so used to Taylor’s blonde bob during 1989. Seeing her with dark, brunette locks was a shock to the system for fans. It signaled that this was a performance. It was a meta-commentary on how celebrities create personas that eventually crumble, which is exactly what happens at the end of the video when her character sees her co-star with his real-life wife at the premiere.
Heartbreak in 4K.
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Financial impact and charity
One detail people often forget: Taylor donated all the proceeds from the Wildest Dreams music video to the African Parks Foundation of America.
This was her response to the colonialist criticisms. She didn't just issue a PR statement; she funneled the revenue generated by the views back into conservation efforts for the animals and land featured in the clip. It was a move that acknowledged the beauty of the location while trying to give something back to the actual ecosystem that provided the backdrop.
Technical mastery in the 1989 era
If you look at the cinematography, it’s shot on film (or at least processed to look like it). The grain is there. The color grading leans heavily into warm ambers and deep blues.
Compared to the neon, glitchy aesthetic of "Bad Blood" or the satirical, high-gloss "Blank Space," Wildest Dreams feels organic. It’s slower. The editing mimics the pacing of a mid-century epic. Joseph Kahn, who is known for high-octane, fast-cut videos, showed a lot of restraint here. He let the scenery breathe.
Even the way the credits roll at the end feels like a movie. It wasn't just a music video; it was a "film event." This was the era where Taylor Swift decided she wasn't just a singer anymore—she was a director in the making.
Understanding the legacy of Wildest Dreams
If you're looking to dive deeper into the history of this video or apply its aesthetic to your own creative work, here are the actual steps you can take to understand the craft behind it:
- Analyze the "Movie-Within-A-Movie" Structure: Watch the video again, but pay attention to the "off-camera" moments. Notice how the color grading changes slightly when the "cameras" are rolling versus when the characters are interacting behind the scenes. This is a masterclass in visual storytelling.
- Research the African Parks Foundation: Look into the specific conservation work funded by the video's proceeds. It provides a necessary counter-perspective to the criticisms of the video's setting and shows how celebrity influence can be leveraged for environmental impact.
- Study the 1950s Technicolor Aesthetic: If you are a creator, look at the color palettes of Out of Africa (1985) and The African Queen (1951). You’ll see exactly where Kahn and Swift pulled their visual inspiration, from the oversaturated skies to the specific shade of lipstick.
- Compare "Taylor's Version" Audio to the Original Video: Listen to the 2021 re-record while watching the 2015 visuals. You'll notice how her more mature vocal delivery changes the "vibe" of the cinematic tragedy unfolding on screen.
The Wildest Dreams music video remains a polarizing, beautiful, and technically brilliant piece of pop culture history. It’s a reminder that even when art is intended to be a simple "dream," it always exists in the real world.