Many years ago, when I was a young(er) man, I attended film school in Hollywood. I made a lot of friends there, all with their own dreams and aspirations. One was a talented writer from the Midwest who had escaped a traumatic family situation. Another was an amateur game designer and another wanted to become the next Steven Spielberg.
They all had one thing in common: Hollywood kicked their ass.
It was pretty common to meet people from out of state who moved to California hoping to make it big. But more often than not, they ended up disillusioned by the whole thing—whether for financial, health, or cultural reasons. Sometimes it was a combination of all three.
If there were a name for a person like that, it would probably be Natalie.
Mariya Takeuchi’s 1981 ballad “Natalie” is about a young woman who moves to California to become a big movie star. Unlike my friends, she actually does fulfill her dream, but success changes her into a different person than the one she started as—and not for the better.
This beautiful country ballad is sung from the perspective of someone Natalie knew from her old life in Georgia. This childhood friend, possibly even an old lover, can see past the superficial glamour and ask Natalie one simple question:
Natalie, are you really happy?
While Natalie definitely reminds me of my friends, perhaps most of all, she reminds me of myself.
As someone who once had a foot in the door of Hollywood—and probably screwed it up, lol—I’ve experienced a lot of what the song describes: walking down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, going to Hollywood clubs, driving out to Malibu, rubbing elbows with superstars. And I let it all go to my head.
And I was just an intern, mind you. I must have been insufferable.
But much like Natalie, I eventually had to ask myself whether I was actually happy. I had to look deep and question why this life of “sex, drugs, and rock & roll” was only bringing me the blues.
“Natalie” is my absolute favorite song about Los Angeles because it acknowledges a hard truth about the city that people like to ignore: it looks great from afar, but it’s far from great. And if you get caught up in the culture, it can change you for the worse.
In a strange way, it’s reassuring to know that this was just as true in 1981 as it is today.
On a lighter note, J-Canuck once mentioned that this song would fit right into the country-themed variety show Hee Haw. After sitting through a few episodes myself, I’m inclined to agree.
On my quest to find the song on YouTube (its probably been copywrited) I found out there's a Cantonese(?) cover of the song by Priscilla Chan (陳慧嫻) which is pretty good.
