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Tag: 00s

  • September 11th Is Nothing But a Meme to Gen Z

    September 11th Is Nothing But a Meme to Gen Z

    Unlike the infamous December 7th date that baby boomers would forever be conditioned to remember and respect by their forebears, September 11th is becoming less and less of a date to “revere” and more and more of a “thing” to meme. And, although the attack on the World Trade Center hasn’t even yet reached its twenty-fifth anniversary, it’s already but “fodder” for a generation that was barely coherent, if even born at all, when the calamity occurred. Thus, it’s easy to find “levity” in the incongruous images from that immortal day (including a screen grab of an advertisement for Mariah Carey’s doomed movie, Glitter, against the backdrop of the smoking towers).

    And oh, how Gen Z has found quite the substantial amount of levity in 9/11. As a recent article from Rolling Stone characterized this phenomenon, “To be on social media in 2024 is to be swimming in jokes and memes about 9/11. Things that might once have been whispered among friends are now shared by meme accounts with hundreds of thousands of followers. On TikTok, videos contrasting the year 2024 with 2001 (often ending with someone reacting to the planes hitting towers) frequently went viral.” An Instagram account called always_forget_never_remember (a “tasteless 9/11 Meme Dealer”) describes the latest glut of memes about the tragedy as having “the effect of exorcising the event from America’s collective consciousness.” While some might view that as a “positive” form of “healing,” others are aware of the long-term damage it can cause to “forget” (hence, the long-standing 9/11 urging to “never forget”—especially if you still have the non-presence of mind to live in New York).

    Germany didn’t make the mistake of “forgetting” about World War II and Adolf Hitler’s dangerous, life-destroying demagoguery. Ergo, the reason why its ratio of neo-Nazis is actually far smaller than the one in the United States, where the history taught in schools is often not exactly “on the level.” Therefore, making it easy to forget the lessons that are theoretically supposed to be imparted by history. If 9/11 was meant to impart any such lesson, it’s that hubris will be the U.S.’ ultimate undoing. And yet, Gen Z has instead seen fit to take up allegiance with Osama bin Laden in the matter after his “Letter to America” went viral on TikTok. Mainly because part of his “logic” for killing thousands of people stemmed from the U.S.’ de facto support of Israel’s occupation of Palestine. But, as the aphorism goes, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Especially Gen Z—blind to the severity and unprecedented nature of this event that has continued to negatively impact people’s lives to this day.

    And not just the lives of those who lost loved ones in the most brutal and unfathomable manner, but to those still living who were subjected to the toxic materials of the aftermath. As the CDC phrases it, 9/11 “created massive dust clouds that filled the air and left hundreds of highly populated city blocks covered with ash, debris and harmful particles, including asbestos, silica, metals, concrete and glass.” Consequently, many people, young and old alike, were subjected to toxins that would result in ongoing health issues or even death.

    Indeed, according to the Mesothelioma Center, “more people have now died from this toxic exposure than in the 9/11 attacks [themselves].” But that is of no importance to Gen Z, who could give a goddamn about anything (except looking young and excoriating those who don’t). Perhaps Rue Bennett (Zendaya), the ultimate numb/disaffected Gen Zer in Euphoria, puts it best when she narrates in the series’ pilot episode, “I was born three days after 9/11. My mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding me under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feelings of grief gave way to numbness.” In a sense, she’s not just talking about her parents’ numbness, but also referring to the osmosis of those images—played ad nauseam until they meant nothing anymore—contributing to her own eventual numbness. Not just to 9/11 and its “weight,” but to life itself.

    While there are those who would take up the defense of Gen Z (including Gen Z itself) by saying it’s not their fault they didn’t live through the catastrophe in order to be “appropriately sad” enough about it (therefore not make totally callous memes about it), others are aware of the growing sociopathy that exists within each new generation—and yes, it arguably started with baby boomers themselves, the generation first accused of being selfish and sociopathic via an illustrious 1976 article by Tom Wolfe for New York Magazine called “The ‘Me’ Decade.” And yet, while boomers might have been quick to join cults and indulge in many a bad acid trip, one can’t imagine them ever creating content that eradicated the entire emotional meaning of December 7, 1941.

    Undoubtedly, Gen Z, in contrast, comes across as particularly sociopathic because they are the first generation to “forget” about 9/11. Not, however, the first generation to have the internet-oriented platforms to mock it. That would be millennials. But millennials were in the trenches when it happened, affected by the news coverage and anti-Middle East rhetoric that followed in such a way as to not even dream of poking fun at such a serious moment in the culture. After all, this was when people were still even taking Rudy Giuliani seriously. As for previous generations that were made aware of somber historical events, baby boomers didn’t have the means to mock Pearl Harbor (the event consistently likened to 9/11 because it was the only other large-scale attack on U.S. soil), nor did Gen X didn’t have the means to mock, say, the Kennedy assassination or the Vietnam War. At least not in a manner that could be disseminated to so many thousands of people.

    The irony, of course, is that Gen Z is known for being the most “sensitive” generation yet—even though everything about them and their reactions to things connotes the exact opposite. Treating 9/11 like nothing more than a “trend” or meme to fill the internet space is, thus, but part and parcel of this generation’s highly limited capacity for empathy. Oh sure, there’s using humor as a coping mechanism, as many did try to in the wake of the events of September 11, 2001 (which meant being “canceled” before that was a term). But that’s not what it’s about with Gen Z, who has no emotional attachment whatsoever to that day. Nor do they seem to have much of an emotional attachment to anything (again, except to looking hot). Leading some to ask the question: can you blame them? After all, they live in a post-Empire world—how can they trust that it’s even worth it to attach to something, knowing how ephemeral it all is. The decimation of the Twin Towers certainly proves that, if nothing else, to Gen Z, so overexposed to tragedy and trauma at this point that their desensitization can be “justified.” As anything can be when it suits a purpose…sort of like bin Laden justifying the attacks.   

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • On Carrie Bradshaw Developing the Idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

    On Carrie Bradshaw Developing the Idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

    Although it’s easy to shit on Sex and the City in the present, there are occasional moments in the show when one realizes how truly visionary it was for its time. You know, going to a tantric sex workshop and vaguely acknowledging white privilege while you’re getting a pedicure—things like that. But one thing Sex and the City rarely gets credit for is providing the kernel of the idea for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. This occurred in season four of the series; specifically, episode six: “Time and Punishment” (the same episode where Charlotte York [Kristin Davis] was shamed for having “free time” instead of working). Which aired three years before Eternal Sunshine… was released in 2004.

    But back in July of 2001, when “Time and Punishment” first aired, Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) had the sudden “revelation” that cheating on Aidan Shaw (John Corbett) back in mid-season three was the worst mistake of her life—or at least her romantic life (which, in truth, embodies one hundred percent of Carrie’s existence). Therefore, narcissist that she is, Carrie obviously believes it’s within her power to get him back…just because she decides on a whim that’s what she wants. And apparently, she’s not wrong in her assumption, wearing Aidan down with her seduction methods (however stalker-y) until he concedes that, sure, he wants to get back together.

    But before that glorious (for Carrie) moment, Bradshaw gives us one of her signature voiceover “insights” from the column de la semaine she’s writing, ruminating on a person’s inability to forgive if they can’t really forget. So it is that she tell us: “Later that day, I got to thinking about relationships and partial lobotomies. Two seemingly different ideas that might be perfect together, like chocolate and peanut butter. Think how much easier it would all be if there was some swift surgical procedure to whisk away all the ugly memories and mistakes and leave only the fun trips and special holidays.” Yes, Carrie is perfectly describing what Charlie Kaufman would call “Lacuna Inc.” in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Minus the part where even the fun trips and special holidays are remembered. For, in Carrie’s ideal version of relationship memory erasure, you still at least remember the person existed in your life prior to the “procedure.”

    Kaufman and Michel Gondry did that concept one better by making it key for all traces of the person to be forgotten. Even though it only set up someone like Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) and Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) for the trap of gravitating right back toward the person they ended up finding toxic in the first place. Which is also something that Zoë Kravitz’s Blink Twice addresses in a more ominous way. But what Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind prefers to do is position the inevitable “re-attraction” between two people who were already unable to make it work before as something with a more hopeful tinge. Not just more hopeful than what Blink Twice does with the concept, but also with what ends up happening to Carrie and Aidan by the end of season four (hint: total emotional catastrophe/an even more painful breakup than the first time around).

    However, before the reasons for their first breakup are proven yet again (and tenfold), to conclude her thoughts on the matter of “forgiving and forgetting,” Carrie adds, “But until that day arrives, what to do? Rely on the same old needlepoint philosophy of ‘forgive and forget’? And even if a couple can manage the forgiveness, has any[one] ever really conquered the forgetness? Can you ever really forgive, if you can’t forget?” In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there’s no need to forgive because all has been forgotten.

    As for setting up the premise for “Time and Punishment,” the episode that precedes it, “Baby, Talk Is Cheap,” also refers to the “unforgettability” (therefore, unforgivability) of what Carrie did to Aidan. An egregious sin he feels obliged to remind her of when she has the gall to come to his door late at night and plead her case for getting back together. None of her “logic” trumps the fact that, as Aidan screams, “You broke my heart!” But Carrie sees that only as a “minor detail” when presenting him with the “argument,” “Look, I know that you’re probably scared and I would be too, but it’s different now. Things are different. I-I’m different.” She then tries to prove it by taking a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and declaring, “Cigarettes, gone.” Of course, if they were really “gone,” they wouldn’t have been in her purse in the first place.

    Nonetheless, Carrie continues to insist that this “new” her was clearly not responsible for the actions of the old her and, thus, shouldn’t be punished by being denied another chance. She assures Aidan, “Seriously, all bad habits gone. This is a whole new thing because I miss you. And I’ve missed you.” As though her desire for him alone should be enough for him to want to forget about all the pain she caused him. And when Aidan screams the aforementioned line at her audacity, Carrie displays the kind of immaturity and embarrassing behavior she’s known for by simply running away instead of staying to face the firing squad, as it were.

    Ultimately, though, she gets what she wants: for Aidan to submit to her. Granted, not without an initial bout of passive aggressive behavior in “Time and Punishment” that finally prompts Carrie to say of the co-worker he’s been openly flirting with, “Why don’t you just fuck her, then we can both be bad.” When he comes to her door at the end of the episode, Carrie tells him, “I know that you can’t forget what happened, but I hope that you can forgive me.” But she was onto something before in her column—the idea that no true forgiveness can be attained without forgetting. Ergo, her wish for a Lacuna Inc.-like enterprise that wouldn’t “exist” until three years later…perhaps after Kaufman caught sight of Carrie’s column. And while Carrie might not have been the first to wish for this form of a “relationship lobotomy,” she was the only one to say it out loud in such a crystallized way before Eternal Sunshine… came along to perfect the notion.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Boons and Banes of Memory Erasure in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice

    The Boons and Banes of Memory Erasure in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice

    Romy Schneider once said, “Memories are the best things in life, I think.” But are they, really, if some of them serve only as a brutal, triggering source of trauma? In both Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blink Twice, that’s the main type of memory being dealt with, therefore suppressed. But while one is a “rom-com” (Charlie Kaufman-style), the other is a horrifying thriller with a #MeToo slant. Both, however, do center on “the necessity” of memory erasure as it pertains to the relationship between men and women.

    Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, of course, is much “lighter” by comparison. Even though, in its time and its place, it was considered just as “bleak” as it was “quirky.” It’s also more hyper-focused on one relationship in particular, in contrast to Blink Twice speaking to the overall power dynamics between men and women as it relates to sex rather than “romance.” More to the point, the power dynamics between rich men and “regular” women. In Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman’s narrative, the main “sufferers” (or beneficiaries, depending on one’s own personal views) of select memory loss are Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) and Joel Barish (Jim Carrey). But it is the former who “brings it on both of them,” as she’s the one to initially enlist the memory-erasing services of Lacuna Inc., run by Dr. Howard Mierzwiak (Tom Wilkinson). Joel merely follows suit after comprehending what she’s done, deciding that she shouldn’t be the only person in the relationship permitted the luxury of forgetting about all that they shared together. Good and bad.

    So it is that he, too, undergoes the procedure, briefed on the ins and out of it by Mary Svevo (Kirsten Dunst), the receptionist at Lacuna, and Dr. Mierzwiak before opting to excise Clementine from his brain as well (in a scene later to be repurposed by Ariana Grande for the “we can’t be friends [wait for your love]” video). Of course, this isn’t to say he’s not extremely hurt by her “whimsical” decision to “remove” him. Alas, by way of explanation, Dr. Mierzwiak can only offer, “She wanted to move on. We provide that possibility.” One can imagine that Slater King (Channing Tatum) tells himself something similar about his own nefarious operation on a private island that might as well be referred to as Little Saint James (a.k.a. the former “Epstein Island”).

    Sex and the City, incidentally, provided something of a precursor to the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind “idea kernel” (de facto, the Blink Twice one) in the form of the season four episode, “Time and Punishment.” This due to Carrie’s (Sarah Jessica Parker) theme for her column of the week being whether or not you can ever really forgive someone if you can’t forget what they did (to you). The answer, in both Eternal Sunshine… and Blink Twice, seems to be a resounding no. Though, in the former, there appears to be a greater chance for redemption even after the couple remembers everything that happened between them (and still decides to give it another shot). This courtesy of Mary, who not only unveils the truth to all of Lacuna’s clients (or “patients”), but also unearths her own bitter truth vis-à-vis memory erasure: Howard did it to her (per her request) after the two had an affair. And yet, just as it is for Frida (Naomi Ackie) in Blink Twice, it’s as though we are doomed to repeat the same behavior/gravitate toward the same toxic person regardless of whether the slate (a.k.a. the mind) is wiped clean or not.

    In Blink Twice, Zoë Kravitz’s directorial debut (which she co-wrote with E.T. Feigenbaum), that gravitation proves to be much more harmful for Frida, who drags her best friend, Jess (Alia Shawkat), along for the ride after infiltrating Slater’s fancy benefit dinner for his requisite “foundation.” Although the two are initially working the party as cater waiters, Frida has them both switch into gowns (which scream “trying too hard” while still looking embarrassingly cheap). Naturally, Slater invites them to accompany him and his entourage back to the island where he’s been sequestered in order to “work on himself” as part of a grand performance of a public apology for “bad behavior” past (there’s no need to get specific about what that might have entailed, for there’s a whole range of bad behavior [typically, sexual abuse/harassment-related] that female viewers can easily imagine for themselves). Though, usually, if one is truly working on themselves, they do so by not buying a private island to retreat to. By actually trying to exist in and adapt to the world around them, rather than creating an entirely new one that fits their own “needs.” But that’s the thing: Slater and his ilk don’t want to adapt, don’t want to acknowledge that things have changed and so, too, must their old ways. Instead, they’ve set up a “paradise” for themselves that happens to be every woman’s hell.

    The only requirement to keep them there? Scrubbing any memories they have of being sexually assaulted every night on the island. In lieu of Lacuna, Slater needs only a perfume called Desideria, conveniently crafted from a flower that’s only found on that particular island. It’s, in many ways, a slightly more implausible method for making someone forget a traumatic experience than all-out memory erasure through a “scientific procedure” like Lacuna’s. But, for Kravitz’s purposes, it works. Those purposes extend not only to holding up a mirror to the ongoing and new-fangled ways that men, even post-#MeToo, still manage to behave like barbarians, but also to the ways in which women “self-protect” by conveniently “removing” memories that are too painful to deal with, especially when it comes to men and their egregious comportment. This, in part, is why the Desideria is so effective. There’s a sense that the women of the island are only too ready to forget/ignore what horrors befell them the previous night.

    In the abovementioned Sex and the City episode, there’s a scene at the end where Carrie repeats (seven times) to Aidan (John Corbett), “You have to forgive me” in different “Oscar-worthy” manners. Just as Slater repeats, “I’m sorry” in different dramatic ways until he then askes Frida if she forgives him yet. Seeing (and expecting) that she definitely doesn’t, it only serves to prove his point that, no, you cannot forgive without forgetting (though, to be fair/in this case, maybe just don’t act like women owe you unfettered access to their bodies/treat them like disposable objects designed solely for your amusement and there won’t be any need to forgive).

    Thus, he considers himself in the right (or at least that he “had no choice”) for doing what he did in order to get what he wanted out of her and the other women he lures to the island with his charm (and, of course, the allure of his wealth). In Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there is also a belief, on Clementine’s part, in being “in the right” for willingly expunging her own memories without any man needing to do it for her. In this sense, one might say that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is all about the importance of agency in having certain aspects of your memories erased for the sake of self-preservation.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Bebe Rexha Serves 00s Paparazzi Vibes and Shady Record Execs for “I’m The Drama” Video

    Bebe Rexha Serves 00s Paparazzi Vibes and Shady Record Execs for “I’m The Drama” Video

    At the beginning of July this year, Bebe Rexha tweeted, “I could bring down a BIG chunk of this industry. I AM frustrated. I Have been UNDERMINED. I’ve been so quiet for the longest time. I haven’t seen the signs even though people constantly are bringing them up and they have been SO OBVIOUS. And when I have spoken up I’ve been silence[d] and PUNISHED by this industry. Things must change or I’m telling ALL of my truths. The good the bad and the ugly.” The release of “I’m The Drama” feels in line with that pronouncement, as Rexha makes a heavy-handed allusion to the ways in which she’s been mistreated throughout her tenure in the music business by singing, “There’s a silence only I/I was born to break.”

    Alas, Rexha has yet to go into full detail about what, exactly, has happened to her. When asked by a fan on Twitter (again, it’s not “X”), “What stops you from speaking? Do it! We are with you,” Rexha ominously replied, “THEY PUNISH YOU.” On the heels of releasing two other singles, “Chase It” and “My Oh My” (with Kylie Minogue and Tove Lo) this year, it seems as though Rexha is primed to release a fourth album, therefore doesn’t totally want to rock the boat when it comes to blowing the lid off the abuse she’s suffered. Particularly since Better Mistakes and Bebe didn’t perform as well on the charts as they should have (though her 2018 debut, Expectations, was certified platinum and managed to climb to number thirteen on the Billboard 200 album chart upon its release).

    But that doesn’t mean that more “subtle” digs can’t be made at the industry, with the Jak Payne-directed video for “I’m The Drama” channeling Britney Spears in the 00s (think: the video for 2007’s “Piece of Me”). Particularly as it opens on Rexha surrounded by a sea of paparazzi, herself serving as the eye of the storm while wearing oversized black sunglasses (a very Brat emblem these days), a fur-trim coat and hair that’s dyed with black stripes to contrast against the overall blonde tresses.

    In another intercut scene, Rexha appears to be at a venue that looks like a wedding reception (or any generic after-party, really) as she stands in the center of it all wearing a black floor-length gown (which is also her steez in the “My Oh My” video). She then dives into the chorus with an intonation that sounds decidedly mantra-y as she chants, “I’m the drama, I’m the face/I make heads turn in this place/And they lining up, and they lining up/And they lining up for a taste/I’m the drum set, I’m the bass/A goddamn filthy disgrace/And they lining up, and they lining up/And they lining up for a taste.” While this might be what constitutes that majority of the song’s lyrics, the infectious backbeat produced by Jimmy James and Punctual is what sustains it as an undeniable earworm rather than coming across as overly repetitive.

    When she deviates from the chorus to announce, “When I walk in, feel your eyes/Oh, and they call my name,” the scene then switches to her sitting at the head of a table in what looks like a quintessential record label office (further emphasized by the framed records hung up on the wall) filled with executives in suits who don’t have an artistic bone in their body. Thus, it comes across as particularly pointed that she repeats the line, “There’s a silence only I/I was born to break” in this room, as though to none too abstrusely indicate who/what she’s talking about: the music industry “powers that be.” For, like Britney Spears, it seems there is so much more going on behind the scenes with Rexha’s oppression than fans and casual enthusiasts alike could ever fathom, with Rexha herself fueling the flames of that “conspiracy theory” fire by saying, as mentioned, “Things must change or I’m telling ALL of my truths. The good the bad and the ugly.” It sounds a lot like Kesha warning Dr. Luke in 2017’s “Praying,” “And we both know all the truth I could tell.” (Uncoincidentally, Rexha promoted her fangirl love for Kesha by posting a story on her Instagram where she’s singing the lyrics to her first independently-released single, “Joy Ride,” and captioning it, “KESHA YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SLAY SO HARD WITH THIS ONE.”)

    Rexha might just be reaching her breaking point in that truth-telling regard, as “I’m The Drama” pronounces both lyrically and visually. Unlike, say, Taylor Swift, who “self-effacingly” admits, “It’s me, hi/I’m the problem, it’s me” on 2022’s “Anti-Hero,” Rexha isn’t saying she’s the problem when she declares, “I’m the drama, I’m the drama/They lining up for a taste,” so much as riffing on what Britney said when she goaded, “You want a piece of me?/I’m Mrs. ‘Extra! Extra! This just in’/You want a piece of me?/I’m Mrs. ‘She’s too big, now she’s too thin’/You want a piece of me?/Piece of me.” Of course, Britney’s paparazzi-plagued 00s aura isn’t the only element of the aughts Rexha is serving throughout the “I’m The Drama” video—there’s also some major Lindsay Lohan in “Rumors” vibes (including the occasionally-reminiscent-of-the-“Rumors”-video color palette and the assaulting paparazzi visuals Rexha brings back from the 00s).

    To further explain the message behind her song, Rexha stated, “I just wanted to create something people could relate to. The drama in it captures those moments where you feel like all the eyes are on you, whether good or bad. It’s embracing that and making something so empowering about it.” Just as Britney tried to do time and time again before they turned her into America’s fucked-up voodoo doll. Hopefully, the same won’t happen to Rexha, though, the way this year has been going for her (see: the hate crime in Munich incident), it would be understandable if she had a full-on Britney-with-the-shaved-head-and-umbrella moment.

    In the meantime though, Rexha’s fans would probably like to believe she’ll do as she does at the end of “I’m The Drama” and simply spray a bottle of champagne among the crowd to celebrate her many instances of overcoming adversity in a business that still seeks to chew women up and spit them out like more grist for the mill.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Like Everything That “Pays Homage” to 00s Pop Culture, Halsey’s “Lucky” Is A Pale, Unsatisfying Imitation

    Like Everything That “Pays Homage” to 00s Pop Culture, Halsey’s “Lucky” Is A Pale, Unsatisfying Imitation

    The rollout of Halsey’s “new era” has been almost as rocky as Katy Perry’s. While the latter tried to pass off the Dr. Luke-produced “Woman’s World” as a feminist anthem, Halsey, instead, opted to pass off the second single from her as-of-yet-untitled fifth album, “Lucky,” as an “homage” to Britney Spears, better known as the Queen of the 2000s. And while Halsey was certain to announce of recreating the song/video for Spears’ 2000 hit, “I wouldn’t even dream of doing it without her blessing!,” Spears’ response felt more that slightly “off” if that was truly the case.

    Even so, Spears later updated her stance on the song after deleting the original post, commenting, “Fake news !!! That was not me on my phone !!! I love Halsey and that’s why I deleted it 🌹 !!!” This reply, in all honesty, sounded much more in line with her usual manner of speaking, complete with an emoji usage and lots of exclamation points. In contrast, the original statement came across as too composed and clinical to be the true mark of Spears, with whoever “stole” her phone writing, “For obvious reasons I’m very upset about the Halsey video. I feel harassed, violated and bullied. I didn’t know an artist like her and someone I looked up to and admired would illustrate me in such an ignorant way by tailoring me as a superficial pop star with no heart or concern at all. I have my own health problems which is why I took down my IG account yesterday. I will definitely be putting it back up to show I CARE. I’m speaking with my lawyers today to see what can be done on this matter. It feels illegal and downright cruel.” Rather than sounding like “authentic” Spears, it has the mark of an AI-generated response based on some of her previous soundbites (like when she said during the Piece of Me residency in undercutting reference to her conservatorship, “It feels kind of illegal doing this with this mic in my hand right now, it feels so weird”). But whether Spears was in some way behind the originally expressed sentiment or not, the knee-jerk reaction of contempt is not without its merit. For, so often, attempts at homage not only tend to fall flat, but come across as rather insulting (like Kelly Osbourne covering Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach” back in 2002 or Tina Fey sanctioning the musical-movie version of Mean Girls in 2024).

    From the moment the video opens on a child version of Halsey outside a home of, let’s say, modest appearance, and the 00s-inspired pink font spelling out “Lucky” with a star around the “L” tops it off, it’s obvious that this is going to be uncomfortable to watch. Worse still, as though to play up the “inferior artist imitating a greater one” angle, Halsey tapped Gia Coppola to direct the video. “Child Halsey” then runs to get into a car as the opening line, “I am so lucky” plays. Of course, it’s tinged with a sardonic bent, for there’s nothing that lucky about being relentlessly scrutinized. Something that Britney actually knows much more about than most pop stars, Halsey included. After all, it was because of her being subjected to so many egregious privacy violations in the 00s that a law was passed in California in 2009 that made it “a crime to take and sell unauthorized photos of celebrities in ‘personal or familial activity.’” Few other celebrities can lay claim to paving such a path for basic human rights for celebrities. Obviously, all it cost Britney was her mental health. Indeed, Spears was diagnosed as being bipolar (just as Halsey was) in 2008 and has stated of the condition, “I have always been kind of shy, since I was a little girl. It’s who I am to be modest, so I really can’t help it. I turn into this different person…seriously, bipolar disorder.” The “different person” she turns into for the stage was always difficult to reconcile with the shy girl from the South. And maybe it was the less shy version of herself that lashed out in response to Halsey’s rendering of “Lucky.” A version that tries to take the specific pain of Spears and make it her own.

    And as this version of Halsey’s childhood unfolds, we see a cold, distant father walk into the house while his daughter watches TV—the two scarcely acknowledge one another as the lyric, “Did it all to be included, my self-loathing so deep-rooted” plays in the background. After being ignored (the ultimate parental sin, as confirmed by Allison Reynolds [Ally Sheedy] in The Breakfast Club), she retreats into her poster-filled room. The posters, of course, are of Halsey, styled in Spears-circa-the-00s looks. The girl then puts a load of what is now referred to as “Euphoria makeup” on (even though Euphoria takes its makeup aesthetic from the 2000s), mimicking dance moves that are decidedly pulled from a Spears video (either that, or Madonna’s “Vogue”). The camera then focuses in on one of the Halsey posters so that the Halsey “inside” of it (wearing a sheer, crystal-embellished bodysuit designed to remind viewers of the “Toxic” video) can come to life and parrot the original “Lucky” chorus, switching it up to use the first person point of view instead: “But I’m so lucky, I’m a star/And I cry, cry, cry in my lonely heart, thinkin, ‘If there’s nothin’ missin’ in my life/Then why do these tears come at night?’” Well, maybe they come now because of the ostensible rejection Spears displayed toward this song.

    A crushing blow, considering that Halsey recently stated during a promotional interview for Maxxxine that the defining star for her growing up was “Britney Spears, all day. I didn’t think anyone could be, like, more of a star. I actually don’t know that I even knew at that—I was like six—because I was also born in 1994… But I was, like, I didn’t know that I knew she was a person outside of the CD. I thought she lived in there. And every time I played it, she had to sing.” A “childlike” belief (replicated in making Halsey come to life inside the abovementioned poster) that’s eerily telling of how much Spears was viewed as nothing more than a trained monkey “created” solely to amuse the masses. To dance and sing like a puppet. It was no wonder she started to let loose as the mid-00s progressed, shedding the “good girl” image she was saddled with from the outset of her career. This period is alluded to in Halsey’s video as well, during a moment when she can be seen drunkenly laughing in a nightclub setting before appearing on a red carpet (looking more like 00s-era P!nk than Spears) for “TGI” (the fake music news network modeled after the MTV logo).

    In the next few scenes, the homage front starts to get even messier as Halsey tries to jam-pack a hodgepodge of Britney-in-the-00s-related images into the narrative. This includes getting out of a car and being swarmed by paparazzi, wearing a basketball jersey in the recording studio, being miserable in her fancy house—and this is where the nod to “Everytime” comes in. Because, for whatever reason, Simon Rex is there to play her abusive boyfriend. An actor choice on par with Stephen Dorff playing Britney’s abusive boyfriend in the “Everytime” video (which owes its indelible look to direction by David LaChapelle). And, to play up the notion that Halsey, like Britney, got her poor taste in men as a result of the first man she had as an example—her father—Coppola intercuts the scene of Halsey and Rex arguing (as bombastically as Spears and Dorff) with Halsey and her father arguing when she was a child. A moment befitting the lyric, “Inner child that’s unrecruited, truth is/I’m not suited for it.” Indeed, perhaps only pursued “it” a.k.a. fame “just to be liked by strangers that she met online.”

    This idea of not being built for such a machine has also been emphasized by Spears, who stated, “I’m not really made for this industry.” And yes, anyone who is especially sensitive should avoid what Lady Gaga calls “The Fame” at all costs. Not that Spears had too much of a choice once her parents pushed her down the path for their own selfish, money-grubbing motives. A path that led to endless scrutiny, particularly of Spears’ body. To that point, another lyrical moment on Halsey’s “Lucky” reeks of Britney singing, “I’m Mrs. She’s Too Big Now She’s Too Thin” during “Piece of Me,” with Halsey phrasing it as, “And why she losin’ so much weight?/I heard it’s from the drugs she ate.”

    There’s another somewhat awkward allusion to Britney when Halsey also mentions, “I shaved my head four times because I wanted to/And then I did it one more time ’cause I got sick,” with everyone knowing that Britney’s 2007 head shaving is what led her down an abyssal spiral from which she couldn’t return. Especially with regard to that moment being leveraged as a prime example of her “madness,” therefore the need for her to be placed under a conservatorship. As for referencing the original “Lucky” video itself, the only instance of that is in the idea that there are two Halseys—the younger one and the famous one, with the latter watching over the former. The two only meet at the end of the video, when Famous Halsey (dressed, incidentally, like Kate Hudson in Almost Famous, another piece of pop culture from 2000) sits next to Young Halsey on a swing set. Alas, in the very final scene, Coppola returns to the swing set with Famous Halsey sitting all alone, the child version of herself having disappeared. An obvious metaphor for how all innocence is stamped out of you once you’ve been emotionally bulldozed for long enough.

    And it seems that’s the case for Halsey, who recently wrote of her “return” to music, “It’s hard to want to engage in a space that is completely devoid of any kindness, sympathy, patience; or to be honest human decency [oxymoron]. Especially after years of hiding from the interactions for fear that this EXACT thing would happen. I don’t know man. I almost lost my life. I am not gonna do anything that doesn’t make me happy anymore. I can’t spiritually afford it.” Of course, like Doja Cat threatening to quit music back in 2022, it’s unlikely that Halsey will really stop making music. Unlike Spears, who genuinely seems committed to preserving what’s left of her sanity by avoiding the music business like the plague.

    As for Halsey’s attempt at doing “Lucky” justice, let’s just say that, on “Without Me” (a video during which Halsey also has an abusive relationship displayed by intense arguing [with a G-Eazy lookalike, of course]), the singer incorporates a lyric from Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River.” Specifically, “You don’t have to say just what you did/I already know/I had to go and find out from them.” That Halsey chooses to recreate the most affronting moment from the single vis-à-vis Timberlake’s false narrative about how Spears cheated on him makes her, frankly, unworthy of covering any Brit song. No matter how much she’s touted herself as a fan.

    And so, while Halsey wanted to make a “moving” track/“pay homage” to Britney and the 2000s, it’s hard to feel much for it when all it does is take the musical backing of Des’ree’s “You Gotta Be” (though some insist Monica’s “Angel of Mine”) and pairs it with the chorus of “Lucky.” Leaving little of Halsey to be found.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Most Glaring Issue About Madame Web Is Actually Its Timeline Faux Pas With Britney Spears’ “Toxic” and Mis-Teeq’s “Scandalous”

    The Most Glaring Issue About Madame Web Is Actually Its Timeline Faux Pas With Britney Spears’ “Toxic” and Mis-Teeq’s “Scandalous”

    Like any superhero movie pushing women as its leads, Madame Web suffered a backlash that was almost strangely proportionate to Morbius—which was actually far worse. The Marvels, too, was panned, along with She-Hulk, in a pattern that suggests when women do “badly,” male fanboys are ready to pounce in such a way so as to ensure that studios are amply aware of it. And oh, how Sony became aware of it, scrapping any future plans to build a franchise out of Madame Web once the box office receipts were in. But what’s most unforgivable about Madame Web isn’t its plotline or even its more than occasionally cheesy dialogue (often rampant with use of ADR). No, instead, it’s certain musical details in particular that will gnaw at anyone versed in both their 00s and Britney history.

    First in line on the offending front is the fact that “Toxic,” a single released in January of 2004 is being played when we’re still supposed to be in 2003. And it’s not even like it’s the winter of 2003, well after Spears’ fourth album, In the Zone, was released in mid-November. This can be gleaned by the fact that Cassandra (a rather too on-the-nose name choice for someone who can see into the future) Webb, played by Dakota Johnson, attends a barbeque in some fairly late summer-y clothing (being a Jessica Jones type thanks to S. J. Clarkson’s work in that universe, she’s bound to wear a jacket during any season). In truth, the entire cast dresses in a late summer/early fall manner, so it’s safe to say this is well before “Toxic” or even In the Zone could have conceivably been released.

    Another giveaway that we’re still in summer of ’03 territory is the set design of a particular scene that chooses to very deliberately spotlight a looming poster of Beyoncé’s debut album, Dangerously in Love, which only would have been that loud and proud in June of ‘03 (what with New York constantly turning over its ad space), many months before In the Zone came out, not to mention “Toxic” itself, which wouldn’t be released to radio as a single until January of ‘04. Maybe December, if someone wants to truly believe in how “ahead of the curve” New York is. But since we’re clearly somewhere in the summer of ‘03, this little detail just doesn’t quite jive (to use a word that Britney’s erstwhile record label named itself after). This seems to be happening with, dare one say, slight regularity as the 00s slip evermore into the “period piece” category. Saltburn, too, was guilty of such inattention to detail about 2007 in particular, yet it was perhaps more easily forgiven because it ended up being so beloved (in no small part thanks to Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dance Floor”). 

    As for Madame Web being oddly specific about wanting to set its stage in 2003 (and in case one isn’t immediately sure it’s 2003 based on the quickly-flashed title card, Cassie is shown driving past a Blockbuster in her ambulance), director and co-writer S. J. Clarkson’s reasoning could be twofold: 1) she wanted to start the movie during a flashback to 1973 and then only flashforward thirty years to reveal present-day Cassandra and 2) 2003 is sort of that “sweet spot,” technology-wise. A time when things were advanced enough with phones and computers (hell, Britney was already singing love songs centered on e-mails in 1998, when “E-Mail My Heart” was recorded), but not so advanced that your every move could be tracked, and your face instantly recognized on any CCTV camera.

    This, obviously, is why the extremely lame villain of the narrative, Ezekiel Sims (Tahar Rahim), is obsessed with some “cutting-edge” technology that only the NSA (on especially high alert at that time in the wake of 9/11) has access to. Enough to seduce one of its agents and steal her top-secret access to this “special tech” that would become garden-variety in most people’s phones after 2007. Alas, since we’re still in the “early days” of facial recognition, Ezekiel is sure to include (quite expositorily) in his pillow talk, “But as the years pass, there have been technological advances. New ways to find people if you know their faces [which he does because he has nightly visions of the three Spider-Women who will kill him]. The kind of technology I’ve heard the National Security Agency has been pursuing.”

    Once he gets the woman’s security access after poisoning her, he passes the technology off to his “employee,” Amaria (Zosia Mamet, seeming to enjoy roles where she works for dubious people if The Flight Attendant is another indication), who hacks into “the system” to wait for a hit on one or all of these faces: Mattie (Celeste O’Connor), Anya (Isabela Merced) and Julia (Sydney Sweeney). With regard to Sweeney once again going the Euphoria route by playing a teen girl, it bears noting that, at twenty-six, she isn’t all that much younger than “thirty-year-old” Cassandra (Johnson’s actual age is thirty-four). Meanwhile, O’Connor is twenty-five and Merced is twenty-two. Yet it’s Sweeney who the costume designers seem to go out of their way to dress in some interpretation of an 00s teen girl. This tends to mean a lot of Britney looks, including overalls at one point and then, for the majority of the movie, Sweeney’s own riff on a “…Baby One More Time” schoolgirl outfit.

    Relying on Cassie and her premonitions after they’re attacked on the train by Ezekiel, the man they’ll keep referring to as “ceiling guy,” the “teens” trust her enough to let her lead them into some secluded woods where no one can track them, technologically anyway. Afterward, Cassie is foolish enough to tell a trio of teen girls to “stay put” (as if), leaving them to go do some more “research” on who this “ceiling guy” is by returning to her apartment and going through her mother’s old journals from 1973. As she conveniently unearths the valuable information that will tell her who Ezekiel is, the trio grows bored and hungry enough to abandon the woods in favor of a diner off the highway. It’s during this scene that Mis-Teeq’s “Scandalous” starts playing. Which would be passable (since it did exist in 2003), one supposes, were it not for the fact that the director then makes it very clear that the song is playing diegetically. Heard by everyone at the diner as they walk in to the tune of “Scandalous” then sounding over the speakers. The same goes for Spears’ “Toxic,” with Mattie even announcing, “I love this song.”

    Back in the woods, Cassie returns to find an empty clearing followed by a vision wherein a key part of it is “Toxic” providing the soundtrack as the girls are attacked by “ceiling guy” at the diner they’ve absconded to. Cassie gets an immediate sense of foreboding when time “resets” again and the song’s signature opening notes start to play from her stolen taxi as the DJ declares, “This track is going to be huge! Are you in the zone?” Oddly, though—and despite all the radio pushing when it was actually unleashed on the airwaves—Mis-teeq’s “Scandalous” fared about as well on the charts with less radio rotation. This being another track “technically” in existence in 2003 (when it was released on Mis-Teeq’s second [and last] album, Eye Candy), it didn’t start popping off on U.S. radio until April of 2004. Its “revival,” so to speak, after already being played heavily in the UK and Japan during ‘03, made it ripe, apparently, to feature as the theme song for the Catwoman trailer. Now, call one “batty,” but it seems like a bit of an ill-omened idea not only to include a song from a rival comic book studio’s movie, but also a song from a rival comic book studio’s movie that was received so poorly. Indeed, Catwoman has a lower approval rating than Madame Web (eight percent to the latter’s twelve). 

    For an even weirder Britney/Mis-Teeq connection within these universes, Spears’ “Outrageous” was actually slated to be the movie’s theme before the pop star injured her leg while filming the video for it (which had nothing to do with Catwoman, but heavily featured Snoop Dogg). This, for one reason or another, led to Catwoman wielding “Scandalous” instead (which is just another word for “outrageous” anyway). But the only thing “scandalous” about Madame Web is its flagrant disregard for the correct radio airplay timeline. Something that the musical supervisors on the movie perhaps assumed would be the least of the audience’s grievances. And though “Toxic” is a great fit for a story about poison-delivering spider-people, due to this petit faux pas, it’s probably more at home as a string arrangement in Promising Young Woman (you know, the movie Emerald Fennell brought us before her own 00s-era inconsistencies in Saltburn).

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Joining An 00s-Related Trend in Declaring What Amounts to “That Wasn’t Me, That Was Patricia,” Jennifer Lopez Says “J. Lo” Was Just A Larger-Than-Life Character

    Joining An 00s-Related Trend in Declaring What Amounts to “That Wasn’t Me, That Was Patricia,” Jennifer Lopez Says “J. Lo” Was Just A Larger-Than-Life Character

    Like Paris Hilton saying she was “playing a character” (specifically, that of a dumb blonde) during her early to mid-00s heyday, Jennifer Lopez is the latest aughts figure to join that bandwagon. This “revelation” arrives in her documentary, The Greatest Love Story Never Told, a companion piece to This Is Me…Now: A Love Story—itself a companion piece to This Is Me…Now the record. Her announcement of this comes about thirty minutes into the film, as she’s getting her hair styled (complete with clip-on bangs). The man “doing her up” declares, “There’s J. Lo.” Lopez confirms, “There she is.” This assertion that the alter ego of Jennifer Lopez is someone entirely different serves as a launchpad for Lopez to then narrate that the persona of “J. Lo” was a “larger-than-life character” she created to fulfill the ultimate fantasy of who she always wanted to become: rich, famous and powerful. A girl from the Bronx who done good. 

    As director Jason B. Bergh (who also brought us another J. Lo documentary, Halftime, in 2022) then cuts to images and footage of Lopez from that prime era of “J. Lo,” Lopez explains, “J. Lo was created back then, with those first three albums. This Is Me…Then, ‘Jenny From the Block’ and all that. In a way, she’s kind of a larger-than-life character. It was really me becoming who I always dreamt of being.” Alas, once the impossible dream/expectation becomes a reality, there’s a certain existential crisis that tends to occur. One that is unique to the world of celebrity and something that Taylor Swift spoke on in her own “intimate documentary,” Miss Americana. For Swift, the pivotal moment of her existential dread showed up at the 2016 Grammys, with the singer recalling, “I had won Album of the Year at the Grammys for a second time, which I never thought was a possibility. And I remembered thinking afterward, ‘Oh my god, that was all you wanted. Oh god, that was all you wanted, that was all you focused on.’ You get to the mountaintop and you look around and you’re like, ‘Oh god, what now?’” 

    For Lopez, that moment likely came with the success of her sophomore album, titled, what else, J.Lo. Released on January 23, 2001, just three days before her then-latest movie, The Wedding Planner, the chart success of the album was further complemented by the fact that The Wedding Planner would top the box office at the same time. An unprecedented coup for a woman who was very much proving her status as a triple threat: actress, singer, dancer. (Way more impressive than Lauryn Hill boasting, “Rapper-slash-actress/More powerful than two Cleopatras.) Remaining her highest-selling record to date, J.Lo did establish that larger-than-life persona Lopez refers to in Greatest Love Story Never Told. It also provided a jumping-off point for her to create entire lifestyle brands around it (similarly to Paris Hilton, who has presently branched out into cookware), from J.Lo by Jennifer Lopez to Glow by JLo—not to mention the recent establishment of her skincare line, JLo Beauty (because everyone who’s anyone has a skincare and/or makeup line now). What’s more, even before Paris Hilton tapped into her highly profitable The Simple Life “character” (which the world wasn’t officially introduced to until December of 2003), Lopez was setting the trend on what it meant to, let’s say, “become the character you always thought you could be.” The avatar of yourself that would sub in for the less glamorous version. This being part of why it’s rather ironic that one of J.Lo’s most well-known singles was titled “I’m Real.” 

    But, in the end, Lopez appears to want to clarify, there was nothing truly real about “J. Lo” all along. Though, like the portmanteau “Bennifer,” her personal nickname did establish another trend in shortening fellow celebrity names in an equivalent fashion (e.g., J. Law for Jennifer Lawrence). Not to mention Bennifer serving as the genesis for subsequent celebrity couple monikers, including TomKat, Brangelina, Kimye and, more recently, Traylor. Lopez herself even had another couple name with Alexander Rodriguez: J-Rod. (So much for Ben Affleck being a “special” exception for her with Bennifer.) But the artifice of Persona (that’s right, with a capital p) fortified by such names that ultimately function as distancing-from-mere-mortality alter egos seemed, by and by, too much for Lopez to live up to the pressure of. Or so she would have her audience believe in Greatest Love Story Never Told, further expounding, “This Is Me…Now is about truth. And facing the truth of who you really are and embracing that. And the truth is, I’m not the same as I was twenty years ago.” Granted, this isn’t exactly “revelatory,” as few, if any, people stay the same after the passage of two decades, but it is meant to tie into the idea that the construct of “J. Lo” never really existed.

    Just as “Britney, bitch” or Paris “That’s Hot” Hilton never did. These latter two 00s personalities also appeared to suffer the same plight as Lopez when she describes, “I was always very much about show business. Put your best foot forward, don’t let them see when you’re suffering, don’t let them see when you’re hurt… Like, that’s what my life was. But then I realized that I wasn’t being kind of authentic to myself” (emphasis on the Freudian slip choice of words “kind of”—because, in the present climate, “kind of authentic” is better than full-stop inauthentic). The same epiphany eventually descended upon Hilton and Spears (finally “allowed” to be authentically herself after being freed from her oppressive and never-should-have-happened conservatorship). 

    And while some are still calling bullshit on J. Lo’s so-called authenticity with This Is Me…Now (see: The New York Times headline, “Jennifer Lopez and This Is Me…Now: Is She For Real?”), but it can at least be said that perhaps she’s angling closer to (some iteration of) the truth about who she really is. Or, rather, as close to “the truth” that a celebrity who’s been, for so long, larger-than-life can get. Or, as occasional J. Lo nemesis, Madonna, once put it, “I am going through the layers and revealing myself. I am on a journey, an adventure that’s constantly changing shape.” In the erstwhile J. Lo’s case, however, that shape remains consistently curvaceous.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The “Toxic” Video for a New, Less Glamorous Era: Charli XCX’s “Von Dutch”

    The “Toxic” Video for a New, Less Glamorous Era: Charli XCX’s “Von Dutch”

    Although Charli XCX’s first album, True Romance, wasn’t released until 2013, she has always exuded the sonic and visual aura of being a daughter of the 00s. And there was no more significant “mother” in that decade than Britney Spears, who kicked off the aughts with her iconic “Oops!…I Did It Again” video and album. By 2004, however, Spears seemed determined to one-up herself with the video for “Toxic,” arguably among her most well-known visuals after “…Baby One More Time,”  “Oops!…I Did It Again”  and “I’m A Slave 4 U.” In it, Spears channels Pan Am-era chic in a flight attendant uniform that one would have never seen in the “friendly” skies of the 00s, let alone now. 

    But even more than her 60s-inspired flight attendant ensemble, it was her literal nude look that stood out in the eyes of viewers. As Spears confirmed in an interview (something she seems to have thrown a peace sign up on altogether since the conservatorship ended) from 2016 with Jonathan Ross, it was simply crystals/mini diamonds (or “hand diamonds,” as she called them) glued onto her body and paired with a white G-string. And voilà, immortal look achieved. 

    With the video released at the beginning of 2004, it would eventually serve as a reminder of 00s “polish” and decadence in the years before the 2008 financial crisis. In the months just leading up to it, Spears would release the less polished (visual-wise) video for “Gimme More,” the lead single from 2007’s Blackout. After that, she would unleash the moody, clapback-at-the-critics song, “Piece of Me”—which would become such a signature that she named her Vegas residency in its honor. It is the theme of that particular song which Charli XCX seeks to repurpose on “Von Dutch” (a title in keeping with her 00s reverence). Accordingly, the Torso-directed video commences with XCX being stalked by paparazzi at the airport (Charles de Gaulle, to be exact—because Charli is just so Euro).

    As she walks past the proverbial vultures with her aloofness and sunglasses as a shield, she then whips her shades off, along with her skirt (so she can sport just her underwear and tights underneath), and gets right into the first verse: “It’s okay to just admit that you’re jealous of me/Yeah I heard you talk about me, that’s the word on the street/You’re obsessin’ [that accusation lending the song un certain Mariah flair], just confess it/Put your hands up/It’s obvious I’m your number one.” (This also channeling, incidentally, a lyric Goldfrapp sings on 2005’s, what else, “Number 1”.) 

    From the start, it’s apparent that XCX is much less apologetic than Spears was on “Piece of Me” as she sang with more than a slightly sardonic tinge, “I’m Miss Bad Media Karma/Another day, another drama/Guess I can’t see no harm in workin’ and bein’ a mama.” Charli, rather than inserting semi-apologetic caveats in her lyrics, declares full-stop, “​​I’m just living that life Von Dutch, cult classic, but I still pop/I get money, you get mad because the bank’s shut/Yeah, I know your little secret, put your hands up/It’s so obvious I’m your number one.” In the spirit of another 00s piece of pop culture that has inspired of late, Mean Girls, there are many aspects of “Von Dutch” that mirror the content of Renée Rapp and Megan Thee Stallion’s “Not My Fault.” Wherein the former boasts, “It’s not my fault/You gotta pay what I get for free/It’s not my fault/You’re like, you’re like, you’re like in love with me.” According to Charli, nor is it her fault either. She’s “just livin’ that life, Von dutch, cult classic, but I still pop.” 

    Even when forced to mingle among the hoi polloi at the airport. Because, again, these are not the glamorous days of Britney’s “Toxic” video, during which she plays an international spy who also happens to be on a mission to poison her ex-boyfriend. For Charli, it’s less about the destination and more about the journey as she treats the entire airport and, subsequently, the airplane like her runway. Or, more to the point, as any “TikToker” would if CDG had agreed to shut down the terminal for them so they could dance and mug for the camera to their heart’s content without judgment (not that such a worry has ever stopped an “influencer” from annoying people in the public space before). Not to mention providing an empty plane to “bop around” on before making one’s way out onto the wing to do a jig there as well. And, as though to highlight the differences between 2004 Britney on an airplane and 2024 Charli on one, the latter takes the drink cart she’s pushing and violently shoves it down on the floor without a second thought. A stark contrast to Spears sexily pushing her own champagne-filled cart down the aisle on her airplane to “serve with a smile” that hides her ulterior motives.

    But back to the TikTok video flavor, funnily enough, XCX seems to shade that ilk with the line, “Do that littlе dance, without it, you’d be namelеss.” Something in the tone of the lyrics also giving Amy Winehouse on “Fuck Me Pumps” when she jibes, “Don’t be mad at me, ‘cause you’re pushing thirty/And your old tricks no longer work” (how ahead of her time she was on Gen Z-level ageism…along with Lily Allen on “22”). This all further speaking to how XCX is ready to drench herself in the 00s…much as the rest of the pop culture-obsessed set has done of late. But XCX is additionally bringing more than a dash of her “Tumblr sleaze” into the equation, hence breaking the fourth wall by slamming her head against the camera to mimic the effect of beating the shit out of someone—whoever her collective nemesis is, in this case. 

    She then grabs onto an automatic floor-cleaning machine and holds on for a bit before jumping the turnstile at a boarding gate like it’s merely a subway stop. On the empty plane (an Airbus A380), XCX continues her visceral, “anti-‘Toxic’” performance, pursued by the invisible antagonist she keeps fighting back with bratty (her next album is titled Brat, after all) panache. Or perhaps “anti” isn’t the word so much as “antithesis of.” Because there is nothing rehearsed-feeling or, as mentioned, polished about this the way there was in “Toxic.” This, to reemphasize, echoing the fact that all sense of glamor and being able to put up a veneer of elegance and sophistication has dissipated in our post-Empire world. Indeed, XCX is effectively putting a spotlight on the motif of how fucking shitty it is to travel now compared to 2004 (easier and less dehumanizing that year than now, despite the world coming fresh off 9/11). 

    Elsewhere in the lyrics of the song, XCX takes a page from Olivia Rodrigo branding her ex as a “fame fucker” on “vampire” (since fame, after all, is supposedly accessible to everyone now). Thus, Charli jabs at her haters, “Why you lying? You won’t fuck unless he’s famous.” It’s a long way from Britney touting, “I’m Mrs. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (you want a piece of me)/I’m Mrs. Oh My God That Britney’s Shameless (you want a piece of me).” Where Spears was forced to give up those pieces of herself to the public mostly against her will, Charli is of an era wherein everyone is willing and ready to whore it all out for the sake of fame (and hopefully, the added and often correlative bonus of money). Doing it for the hallowed “benefit” of being able to say you’re “famous”—or rather, “viral.” That word so evocative of a disease…which is precisely what fame has become. A bug that everyone wants to catch like corona at a party in 2020 Tuscaloosa. Because if you’re not trying to get famous while the world burns around you, you might not have a chance to enjoy the perks before it’s burned entirely. Thanks, in part, to jumbo jets like the one so prominently featured in XCX’s video (and yes, Charli is no stranger to promoting fossil fuels in her songs [including “Vroom Vroom” and “Speed Drive”] and visuals [e.g., “2999”]).

    It’s hard to put much “Toxic”-level varnish on this bleak human condition of the next generation. Maybe that’s why, by the end, XCX is as triumphant as she is run ragged, coasting along the conveyor belt of the baggage claim with the rest of the damaged, overly jostled goods.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Why Does It Take A Video of Madonna Doing Successive Jump Squats From Over Twenty Years Ago To Appreciate Her?

    Why Does It Take A Video of Madonna Doing Successive Jump Squats From Over Twenty Years Ago To Appreciate Her?

    Being that there’s really no rhyme or reason to what might “take hold” with regard to virality on TikTok, one supposes it should be no surprise that a very specific moment from Madonna’s 2001 Drowned World Tour has become a popular “challenge” on the accursed app. That “moment” being more like fifteen seconds of unheard-of physical rigor for someone of any age (let alone someone over forty) as she proceeds to do approximately sixteen jump squats in rapid succession right after screaming, “Ah yeaahhhh!” An utterance few people would exclaim with joy prior to having to do something so physically strenuous. But such is the nature of Madonna: equal parts endlessly driven and masochistic. 

    It was that sort of vigor that went into conceptualizing the tour, which itself wasn’t very appreciated in its time, derided for not having enough “hits” performed, for a start. To boot, Madonna’s own brother, Christopher Ciccone, would condemn it in his “tell-all” by saying that the “tree concept” he had originally come up with for the backdrops that would appear onstage became something darker and more sinister. As did the entire tour once it transformed into Drowned World. Originally, Madonna had planned to tour in 1998/1999 after Ray of Light was released, but life kept getting in the way and it was 2001 by the time she took her act on the road again. For the new millennium, Madonna had reinvented herself once more. This time as both a “ghetto fabulous” cowgirl for Music and as an English “missus,” married to Guy Ritchie. 

    But if Ritchie thought she was going to stay home and darn his socks, he had another thing coming. Less than a year after her marriage (and giving birth to a second child), she would embark on this world tour in promotion of Music. It was, indeed, the title track and lead single from that record which would serve as her pièce de résistance of a finale for the tour. A finale that, as stated, is suddenly attracting far more attention than it ever did before. Perhaps because, in the early 00s, women were simply “expected” to be that physically fit if they wanted to still be considered part of the game at all. Not that it stopped anyone from continuing to call Madonna “over the hill” at forty-three. Though, as it’s long been plain to see, Madonna could always outpace the pop stars half her age. 

    With her recent bacterial infection, however, the media has been quick to pounce on the narrative that Madonna got it as a result of trying to “keep up” with those pop stars half her age—Taylor Swift being one such name specifically mentioned despite the fact that Madonna has always been a more entertaining (and more political) performer. Anything to discredit not only what she’s still capable of, but what she’s already been doing consistently from the very outset of her live performance days. Which is, to reiterate: dancing her fucking ass off. This is probably why she needed to get ass implants to replace it. In any case, apparently even “TikTokers” (a polite euphemism for nitwits who don’t catch on to things until decades later) can’t turn a blind eye to the impressiveness of what Madonna was doing even then, at an age when she was already being branded as a “geriatric.” 

    Perhaps it took the passing of a couple decades to fully understand the grueling nature of the choreography on that tour. No matter how old one is. Even Britney Spears, who was in the “prime” of her pop stardom in 2001, would have admitted to its difficulty. Thus, maybe the one token of Establishment appreciation it got—being nominated for an Emmy in the category of Outstanding Choreography—was telling of just how elaborate those moves were. But, as Madonna declared long ago, “I got the moves, baby.” In addition to, “Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free.” In that respect, Madonna has said that she’s always associated movement with freedom. Freedom to flit from place to place, freedom to try new things. Thus, her phobia of being fat. Or “zaftig,” as she put it in a 2006 article for Elle. 

    And it’s a fear you can see in her determined eyes as she does those jump squats. Not just the fear of being “rotund,” but the fear of being told that she “can’t.” That because of her age, she should be limited by her body. Repeatedly, Madonna has defied everyone, including herself, to prove the contrary, going so far as to keep dancing as she would have in 2001 during 2019’s Madame X Tour, which resulted in her needing hip replacement surgery afterward. At present, she’s hell-bent on proving her body (and the masses) wrong again by not giving up on the idea of this new world tour, celebrating (ergo, its name: the Celebration Tour) forty years of hits, just because she may or may not have almost died due to a serious bacterial infection. Itself caused by ignoring any signs her body was trying to give her about slowing down. Maybe, for that brief blip when Madonna was on the other side, neither God nor the Devil wanted to allow entry to someone so persistently stubborn. 

    Stubborn enough to endure the wait it took for her to be vindicated as a “stamina queen” twenty-two years after doing those relentless jump squats at the end of her show. While, on the one hand, it’s nice to see her being appreciated in some way by those who might not have known the extent of her tireless commitment to pop music as theater art, it’s also total bullshit that it takes TikTok to justify the Madonna love. Or at least love for her fitness routine. 

    In that same aforementioned Elle article, Madonna remarked, “I hope by the time it’s my moment to leave the world physically, I’ll have gotten my head around the idea that life is an endless cycle.” If that’s the case, hopefully in the next matrix, the cycle of taking too long to appreciate Madonna’s physical (and mental) prowess won’t occur yet again. 

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Not Commenting on People’s Bodies Would Eradicate Way Too Many Industries: Why the Ariana Grande Body Shaming Speech Is Ultimately Hollow

    Not Commenting on People’s Bodies Would Eradicate Way Too Many Industries: Why the Ariana Grande Body Shaming Speech Is Ultimately Hollow

    To exist is, unfortunately, to be perceived. And, in this world, there’s no shortage of people who would like to comment on their perception of you. Being a celebrity takes that phenomenon to an nth degree that no civilian can likely imagine. However, it is (and long has been) considered part and parcel of “the fame game.” For if a person wants to be in the public eye for the sake of disseminating whatever their talent is to the masses, the inevitable fallout is the curse of public opinion. Not everyone is going to “love” you or automatically embrace everything about you, least of all when it comes to appearance.

    Lately, the frequent criticism of fans themselves is that they are not “real” fans if they deign to condemn anything about their so-called god. That’s where the modern fandom-fame dynamic has gone terribly askew. For the die-hard fans (of a Swarm variety) are of the belief that no “ill word” should ever be spoken of the “deity” they worship. This extends to fault-finding of any kind—read: straightforward perceptions of the body. Remarking on if a celebrity has lost or gained weight is at the top of the list (as Britney once put it, “I’m Mrs. She’s Too Big Now She’s Too Thin”). This includes Grande’s increasingly “heroin chic” look. And yes, she was already objectively thin to begin with. Such “objectivity,” however, is something that Grande wants people to feel “less comfortable” commenting on, even if it’s coming from a “well-intentioned” place. Which it was, as what prompted Grande to release a video chastising this form of body shaming in the first place was the barrage of comments that came in the wake of her cameo at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in London, where she and Cynthia Erivo went to see their fellow Wicked co-star, Jeff Goldblum (who will be, of all things, the Wizard of Oz), play the piano. Alas, all eyes were focused on her ever-diminishing body shape rather than the music.

    A similar incident occurred in May of 2005, when Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan (then in greater cahoots perhaps because of a shared mutual contempt for Paris Hilton) were photographed looking utterly anorexic as they swam in their floor-length dresses with arms that mirrored those of a starving African child. Cue the onslaught of tabloid headlines. While Richie would later state that her weight loss was a result of stress and anxiety rather than any eating disorder, she still admitted of her 00s self, “I see a girl that is obviously going through something and is much too skinny [and probably on drugs, went the unspoken conclusion].” Lohan, in turn, copped to battling with bulimia (and drug addiction) around this time. Both women had no issue in discussing their bodies or addressing people’s continued concerns about the message their shared (lack of) figure was sending. At the height of tabloid “culture,” maybe it was too “normalized” to be okay with dissecting headlines that dissected one’s body. But, at the same time, Lohan and Richie were in on the joke. And relished the then-revered “skinny bitch” physique. So much so that Lohan even wore a shirt that said “Skinny Bitch” and Richie threw a Memorial Day barbeque that barred guests over a hundred pounds (“There will be a scale at the front door. No girls over 100 pounds allowed in. Start starving yourself now”). Such acts would invoke immediate cancellation in the present, to be sure.

    Left: Lohan lapping up her skinny bitch era before it really happened on the right, with Nicole Richie

    Perhaps because Grande is, in her own way, an honorary member of Gen Z (as a result of her vocal advocacy for mental health), she’s drunk from that Kool-Aid for too long to remember what she truly is: a millennial. Of the Lohan and Richie generation, even if slightly younger than they are. This forming the weird chasm to become part of a microgeneration (something that never needed to exist before everything and “trend” started to accelerate at such a rapid speed due to waning attention spans spurred by the internet). And Lohan and Richie know better than anyone that trying to steer the public away from their opinions is fruitless. If anything, it makes them cling to those “freedom of speech” rights all the more.

    But what’s most glaring about Grande’s “earnest plea” is that she’s trying to tell a society that traffics in the financial profits of various forms of body shaming (including, at the top of the list, beauty products) that they should no longer be so critical. The thought of such an amendment to human (nay, consumer) behavior actually occurring is not only absurd, but entirely far-fetched. Especially within the celebrity-industrial complex that Grande operates within. Not to mention Selena Gomez, another recent victim of the body shaming discourse that led to her own clapback at “fans” (again, as they’re so derisively put in quotation marks when they speak ill of their god) the same way Grande did on TikTok Live. Establishing the blueprint for Grande, Gomez declared, “I just wanted to say and encourage anyone out there who feels any sort of shame for exactly what [you’re] going through, [when] nobody knows the real story… you’re beautiful and you’re wonderful.” Grande echoed the same sentiments with, “You never know what someone is going through. So even if you are coming from a loving place and a caring place, that person is probably working on it. Or has a support system that they are working on it with and…you never know. So be gentle with each other.” She added, “I just wanted to extend some love your way and tell you that you’re beautiful no matter what phase you’re in…no matter what you’re going through, no matter what weight…no matter how you like to do your makeup these days, no matter what cosmetic procedures you’ve had or not…I just think you’re beautiful.” Of course, that’s easy to say when you can’t actually see who you’re talking to.

    As for the specific mention of makeup, it bears noting that both Ariana Grande and Selena Gomez make a large chunk of their profits off that industry via their R.E.M. and Rare Beauty lines, respectively. Whatever the makeup is being marketed as (“inclusive,” “natural,” etc.), it’s still ultimately designed to be used as a tool to mask one’s “authentic” self. For if that’s truly what we all wanted to be, makeup wouldn’t be a billion-dollar industry. Or plastic surgery. Or fashion, for that matter. And, speaking of, Grande is “the face” of one of the most elitist names in haute couture, Givenchy. Also a brand that has long worshipped at the altar of Audrey Hepburn-level thinness (spoiler alert: Hepburn got that thin by being malnourished as a child during World War II). Indeed, Grande is meant to be some sort of “2.0” version of Hepburn’s waif-based poise and elegance. But no, she insists, we should not comment on bodies—even as she proceeds to make much of her bag on the discourse that surrounds them. This, too, cuts straight to the issue that no one’s addressing (least of all a celebrity): capitalism.

    The only reason to comment on bodies and create a “narrative” centered on what’s “hot” and “not” in that “realm” (e.g., Kim Kardashian’s physique usurping the rail-thin one of Paris Hilton’s after the 00s) is because it’s profitable to multiple industries. And it’s not just limited to beauty and fashion. It creates a ripple effect in every facet of purchasable existence—from foods consumed to exercise habits that can be paid for. And it’s something every celebrity benefits from financially. Even the much-exalted Lizzo, who has also entered the chat again as a result of Grande’s video, with people bringing up her own anti-body shaming tirade from January of this year in which she announces, “The discourse around bodies is officially tired.” “Tired” or not, it’s still a source of major income to many involved in the fame racket. And even selling “body positivity” is a part of that. The weaponization of language (such as censoring people from stating the obvious in a way that makes them feel fearful to speak at all), of course, is one of the first steps in fully activating 1984. Yet our society is bifurcating into a separate territory from that Orwellian nightmare as well, one in which the jettisoning of the body seems to be related to the increasing reliance on “uploading consciousness” (as Grimes said, “Come on you’re not even alive/If you’re not backed up on a drive”).

    In a Nightline special addressing Gomez’s defense of her body, an archival clip of Lizzo being interviewed was included as she said, “We as a society have normalized cruelty to a point where we have internalized cruelty.” Again, does everyone need to be hit over the head with the obvious reason why? C-A-P-I-T-A-L-I-S-M. Apparent cuntiness sells. In tabloid-oriented form as much as fashion and makeup form.

    Despite this, an ABC news contributor who appeared on the special, Kelley L. Carter, concluded, “I don’t think people want perfection out of celebrities anymore. I think they want celebrities that they can see themselves in.” Or at least, “the raw material” of themselves. For “fame as a profession” (a.k.a. going viral) has never been more lusted after than it is in the present climate. And if people—“real,” “average-looking” people—can see themselves in a celebrity, then yeah, that’s still a goldmine for the capitalist cause. Which has thrived on body shaming for centuries (see: the below ad as one of countless examples).

    Selling shit by shaming people is an American tradition that won’t be quelled with any hypocritical celebrity pep talks

    All of this talk about “not commenting on celebrity appearance” also plays into the idea that it isn’t safe to say anything anymore, and certainly not to call a spade a spade (i.e., a fat person fat or a thin person thin). At least, in U.S. culture. But imagine telling a culture as hyper-critical and in-your-face as the Italians to keep their comments to themselves. To that end, it was Stefano Gabbana who outright called Gomez “brutta” in 2018. This leading to another conversation about why he should be lambasted for expressing an opinion since, as it is said (often falsely when it comes to selling fashion through models), “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

    Whatever “effect” Grande’s video might have inflicted for a brief twenty-four-hour period in the news cycle, it’s not likely to shift the bottom line: if celebrities truly want to stop the “body shaming” they’re faced with, then the only thing to do is 1) use their fortune to go back in time and not become famous or 2) retreat into the “wilderness” like J. D. Salinger. Or better yet, renounce capitalism to be a truly commendable role model. As both Grande and Gomez have been branded for their stance against shaming…never acknowledging that all shame stems from our collective commitment to prostitution.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Britney: The Pop Star Barbie America Turned Into Its Fucked-Up Voodoo Doll

    Britney: The Pop Star Barbie America Turned Into Its Fucked-Up Voodoo Doll

    Britney Spears was never given much of a chance in the way of being “taken seriously.” From the beginning, she was written off as another cookie-cutter pop star from the Jive Records factory, including Spears’ boy band contemporaries, Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC. And, despite her massive success from the beginning, there was little interest from those with a “refined ear” for music in opening their arms to her (just their zippers).

    Hence, a 2000 review (that barely made mention of the actual songs’ content) of Britney’s sophomore album on The A.V. Club was sure to lambast her for being “a true cipher, a dress-up doll programmed to satisfy as many different fans and fantasies as possible.” Harsh indeed. And yet, there is something to that idea. The one where Spears, in the early years of her career was this moldable Pop Star Barbie that fulfilled the Aryan ideal (long before Taylor Swift) of “the girl next door” who would also pull her skirt up if you asked. That was for the fulfillment of the Nabokovian male fantasy, of course. For the girls who looked up to Spears, it would be stated by polite marketing tactics that it was because she could be seen as someone you wanted to be “best friends” with. A greater truth was that all the guys wanted to bang her so all the girls wanted to be her.

    Then came her inevitable “fall.” The one that conveniently coincided with her no longer being in her teen years, therefore “virginal.” Which meant it was time to paint her into the outright “slut” everyone always thought she was merely because she dressed provocatively for her stage performances and music videos. Enter the rumors of cheating on Justin Timberlake with Wade Robson. Then Justin’s almost immediate retaliation with the song and video, “Cry Me A River”—which, in case anyone was confused as to whether it was about Britney, included a very on-the-nose lookalike targeted by her jilted ex (played by, who else, Justin). From that moment forward, Britney was damned to be branded a “good girl gone bad.” One of the American media’s favorite tropes.

    The systematic dismantling of Britney as “teen dream” to “cautionary tale” was further solidified in January of 2004, when she married her childhood friend, Jason Alexander, at a Las Vegas wedding chapel. It took no time for her mother and her manager to swoop in and convince her to petition for an annulment. One that provided language with eerie foreshadowing with regard to her conservatorship: “Spears lacked understanding of her actions.” It was obvious with that abrupt maneuver that Britney was in desperate search of someone to love. Particularly after the earth-shattering breakup with Justin. And if someone like Alexander could worm his way in, it was certainly no challenge for Kevin Federline, the catalyst for the eventual downward spiral America would see documented so fully in 2007. Just two years after TMZ was born, and being stalked by the paparazzi took on a decidedly British ferocity. In fact, perhaps only Princess Diana could know how Britney felt in those peak years of being endlessly pursued—thanks to the often million-dollar price tag that a photo of Britney could fetch.

    And so, it all provided even more “reason” (read: motive) to make a spectacle of her, prove she was some “out of control” (that was the phrase actually used to describe her marrying Jason Alexander on an Us Weekly cover) party girl unfit to be a mother. Unfit even compared to Kevin fucking Federline. Who was given carte blanche to do what he wanted throughout his short-lived marriage to Britney, even though Britney assumed she’d have an actual partner around to help raise her children (and yes, almost every photo of Britney from that period is with just her and her kids, with no sign of K-Fed anywhere). This paired with her unaddressed postpartum depression brewed the recipe for Britney’s own addiction to form as a coping mechanism. The headlines making such damning declarations with Spears’ image attached as, “Time Bomb,” “Sick!” and “Hollywood’s Drug Problem.”

    Even as a married woman (for the second time in the same year) to K-Fed, Britney couldn’t be deemed “tame” enough, stoking the outrage of “child advocates” when she was photographed with her son, Sean, in her lap while driving. Undeniably, members of the press were always waiting to catch the perfect shot of her “failing” as a mother—and if anyone had as many photos taken in rapid-fire succession as Britney, that sort of “proof” would be bound to materialize. Just as it did when Britney was caught almost dropping Sean on a New York sidewalk in May of ’06.

    2006 was very stressful indeed for Britney’s motherhood role, as she gave birth to her second son in September. Just two months later, she filed for divorce from Federline in November of ’06. One that wouldn’t be finalized until July 2007, with K-Fed likely trying to hold out for a better settlement. With nothing left to lose (or so she thought), Britney took being single and in her twenties to heart again as she hit the Hollywood nightclub scene (most famously with Paris Hilton). Through it all, America feasted on her reckless decline (sometimes just called: being in your twenties), then pretended to act shocked when she got 5150’d. Anyone would be if they were put in a situation like that.

    Then came the journalists’ endless splooge-fest over assessing what led to the “breakdown” (a.k.a. a woman simply wanting to have more time holding her son and locking herself in the bathroom to get it). Most harshly, Vanessa Griogoriadis in a Rolling Stone cover story called “The Tragedy of Britney Spears.” Among other descriptions of her time spent observing the pop star (no one seems to know how this story was approved), Griogoriadis states, “If there is one thing that has become clear in the past year of Britney’s collapse—the most public downfall of any star in history—it’s that she doesn’t want anything to do with the person the world thought she was. She is not a good girl. She is not America’s sweetheart. She is an inbred swamp thing who chain-smokes, doesn’t do her nails, tells reporters to ‘eat it, snort it, lick it, fuck it’ and screams at people who want pictures for their little sisters.” So there it is: the Pop Star Barbie America turned into its fucked-up voodoo doll.

    Even now. Just take one look at the comments on what she posts. For example, “Can we actually have this page banned? I mean I think it’s in the best interest of the occupant that it gets completely logged out and deleted. Please, this isn’t what anyone was thinking Brittany would be free to do… it’s causing severe 2ndhand embarrassment and making ppl question their childhood lol” or “Literally do anything else please” or “She is filming this herself and it’s gross, have some dignity and think of your poor boys” or “This woman is definitely off her meds. There’s no one to keep her in check. Seem as though she is surrounded by ‘yes’ people, including her husband. ‘Let her be, she’s not harming anyone.’ YES SHE IS!!!! She has CHILDREN!! She is spiraling out of control. This will not end well.”

    Who knows how it will really “end” for Britney, but it’s clear that something within her died quite some time ago when it was stamped out repeatedly by dissection to the nth degree. This includes, above all else, in photo and video format. Some would like to believe she’s gotten a happy “end” in her current husband, who, to be honest, seems like he was planted in her life. And, talking of him, he once had the gall to caption a photo of them together with the back-handed advice, “Women are the most powerful humans on this 🌎 fellas listen up: what they don’t teach you in school is that your ability to listen and agree with your woman 👩 even if you don’t agree is the 🔑 to a happy life 😎 What do they say? Oh… Happy wife, happy life.” It’s the kind of yuk-yuk-yuk misogyny that speaks to a man who isn’t really listening to a word “his” girl is saying, just nods along to get along—all the while thinking what a crazy little ninny she is. But, hey, ain’t she cute? In short, Spears is just recreating the relationship she’s had with America since the beginning.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Britney Saying She’s Turning 12 Instead of 41 Has Everything to Do With Retreating to a “Safety” Age

    Britney Saying She’s Turning 12 Instead of 41 Has Everything to Do With Retreating to a “Safety” Age

    Being that tabloid-type publications still enjoy the parading of a headline that makes a celebrity come across as unhinged, OK! Magazine frequently weighs in on Britney Spears’ various Instagram posts (which, as most should know by now, usually include dancing and twirling—and also plenty of shade) with more than a hint of judgment. One such headline referred to a post she put up on Thanksgiving wherein she referred to her erstwhile conservatorship by mentioning, “I know most didn’t get them in the past but I hope you’re all being served with my handwritten letters now.” She then added, in anticipation of her December 2nd birthday, “I hear the new thing to do is to have slumber parties and dance in the kitchen 😜😜😜 !!! I’m not turning 41 … I’m turning 12.”

    Even though it was a light-hearted way to “brush off” her self-infantilization, OK! chose to bill that as “Britney Spears Bizarrely Jokes She’s ‘Not Turning 41’ But 12 Years Old Ahead Of Birthday.” But many might either empathize or at least be able to clearly understand that her allusion to that particular age is her “safe place.”

    Granted, being on The Mickey Mouse Club wasn’t exactly a time of “innocence”—what with Justin Timberlake kissing her during a game of spin the bottle (Ryan Gosling claimed the same, but Britney insisted she only ever kissed Justin). Timberlake, among many other sources of pervert-oriented pride about Britney, would be sure to later announce that he was her first kiss. In addition to shaming her for lying to the media about being a virgin while dating Timberlake. Something he would keep doing well after their breakup, finding a way to incorporate Britney into a 2009 SNL sketch called “Immigrant Tale.” Playing the part of Cornelius Timberlake, he tells his fellow immigrants on the boat bound for Ellis Island of the exploits his great-great-grandson will have, including dating a “popular female singer… Publicly, they’ll claim to be virgins but privately… he hit it.”

    Britney’s sudden lack of “credibility” in the wake of their breakup was further spurred by Justin, who did everything in his media blitzkrieg power to insinuate or outright declare that 1) Britney cheated on him and 2) they had sex throughout their relationship. One such announcement being made on a radio show when Timberlake was asked point-blank, “Did you fuck Britney Spears?” Without hesitating, he responded, “Okay yeah, I did it!”

    All of this is to say that, while many people turning a so-called “icky” age would prefer to return to their twenties, that decade, for Britney, was her most traumatic, commencing with the Timberlake breakup that sealed the media’s sudden dismantling of her image as America’s sweetheart and culminating in her conservatorship. Placed under it at the beginning of 2008, Spears was just twenty-seven years old and would spend the theoretical prime of her life in this form of captivity.

    And it’s only natural for her to feel as though time was robbed from her. Time from what is seen as the last dalliance with precious youth before full-tilt middle age. Now thrust into her forties, Britney’s bifurcated personality/identity crisis isn’t just about being caught up in the curse of an obsession with youth because she founded her image on a Lolita one, but because the safest place right now probably does feel like twelve.

    Regardless of the fact that her parents were pimping her out already at that time, it was still her own life. And the work she did at twelve would end up providing the launching point to total freedom and agency with a solo career. What’s more to be that age and concerned only with frivolous, frothy things is likely all Britney wants at this juncture. For she’s spent so much of her life worrying about pleasing people, making one wrong step or, worse still, being threatened with loss of access to her children (who, tragically, don’t want to see her anyway) that it’s understandable for her to want slumber parties and dancing in the kitchen. Along with other “trifles” like makeup, dessert, planetary destruction through fashion and talking about hot guys (since the quote unquote hot guy she’s married to appears so often to be missing, when he’s not trying to get her to go Instagram Live against her will).

    So yes, Britney can say she’s turning twelve if she wants to. If that’s the age that makes her feel best, why not? Plus, that old saying is true: you’re as young as you feel. And based on Britney’s posts, she’s feeling like the deranged twelve-year-old within.

    Genna Rivieccio

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