Before any such incident, the video culminates with Celine Dion – now restored to her standard size – singing on a rooftop, surrounded by dancers who very clearly are not dancing to I’m Alive. Despite the extreme possibility that it could get snagged in the mechanisms of the plane (which, lest we forget, is still in the air at this point), Celine doesn’t even appear to entertain the notion that such an outfit could result in the untimely demise of a literary icon. Celine even dons a fabulous billowing dress at one point, with impressively fine needlework, if we consider it to scale given her current proportions. At this point, it’s hard to place an estimate on what size she’s supposed to be in comparison to both Stuart Little and the aeroplane, but it can’t be any bigger than an ant (so, 1-2mm then). And what part does Celine Dion play in all of this havoc? Well, she’s nestled away within the cogs of the model aeroplane (where else?) performing the song while standing atop a variety of moving parts. The only real differential is that in one video the culprit is Stuart Little and in the other, it is a young hooligan child. Either way, the concept is much the same a rogue model aeroplane is being flown around New York, causing disruption and annoyance. There are two versions of the music video accompanying I’m Alive. It’s a nice song performed incredibly well. Nice isn’t often a word used as a complimentary term in pop music – but that’s precisely what I’m Alive is. It’s here that Celine Dion adds value, with some positively charming ad-libs ( “When you bless, you bless the day…I just drift uh-WAY”). Of course, nothing says urgency like a key-change, and obligingly, the track kicks things up a notch for the finale there’s a nice little fade-out before the song explodes, albeit in a very polite, adult-contemporary fashion. She wholly owns I’m Alive and sings as though her life depends on it.
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Her ability and willingness to get right under the skin of what she’s singing and give so much feeling to her performance is a credit. But she’s nothing if not consistent it doesn’t matter whether it’s a tragic maritime love story or the adventures of a plucky rodent, Celine Dion takes her job seriously. That said, however unremarkable they may be, it goes without saying that Celine sells the lyrics – arguably investing them with more sincerity than they deserve. We can only speculate that by 2002, the lyrical well was running dry after the frantic output of the preceding years. We’re not ignorant of how beautiful simplicity can be, but the rhyming here is more Poetry 101.
Even so, there is a bit of a will-this-do approach employed in I’m Alive, which produces lyrics like: “When you bless the day, I just drift away, all my worries die, I’m glad that I’m alive”. Now, Celine isn’t typically an artist you’d look to as a wordsmith of the English language indeed, some of her most endearing moments have come from the unique way in which she grapples with the lexicon (we say, acknowledging that the extent of our bilingualism is a GCSE in French). If there is one shortcoming here, then it’s the lyrics.
And the production – although perhaps a little more muted than we’d become accustomed to – is still busy, packed with stabbing synths and some cute little electric guitar riffs.
And that’s why hooking her up with Andreas Carlsson and Kristian Lundin was such a good move as I’m Alive progresses, what emerges is a triumphant, toe-tapping mid-tempo song that tugs on the psyche and captures the uplifting positivity of that halcyon time in pop music.
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While Celine’s approach to her Swedepop tracks is indeed a little more organic and free of distinctive vocal tics or punchy, squelchy beats, she invests in them an effortlessly soaring vocal that extraordinarily showcases the oh-so uplifting melodies. But such quibbles do the song a disservice. Thus, there was perhaps a sense that for Celine Dion, I’m Alive was a little beneath her a perception probably not aided with the song being attached to an animated movie. By 2002 of course, the Cheiron sound was rapidly being shunned, even by acts for whom it had been instrumental in their making.
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