Outlining the Record

I love this moment:

MTV Shows

This is the Britney I like—cute, cheerful, one who has good video concepts. I don’t know why the director decided to go with this for “Womanizer”:

Britney Spears - New Music - More Music Videos

As Ellen Carpenter at Spin writes,

[“Womanizer” is] a lusty blend of The Office and Alias, the flashy, streamlined vision of the modern sex wars takes place in some sleek corporate setting — as if the high-school girl from "…Baby One More Time" has become a vampy career woman and brought her school's back-up dancers with her. There are Louise Brooks wigs, "Mad Men" glasses, choreographed dance sequences, and not a single stripper pole.

Although the song has grown on me (I wish I remembered my first thought upon hearing the song—something about her voice belonging to a old, craggy woman who had been chain smoking for fifty years), I’m dismayed (I know, I shouldn’t be) by the gratuitous nudity. Really, Britney, a naked you veiled in sweat and smoke? This has been done by oh, everyone, including you. It’s not titillating in the least, especially as there isn’t a semblance of seeing anything remotely interesting.

Carpenter happens to agree with me. There’s no reason here to show off her body—it doesn’t fit into the storyline of the video—except because she can, and that’s not always the best reason. It’s not risqué or cool, not even vaguely interesting, but practically expected. Blah.

"For the Record" shows Britney living her life—one dominated, as one might expect, by dance rehearsals, photo sessions, and security, security, security. She’s always surrounded by people, never alone, and you rarely see her with her children. It’s hard to think of starlets as actual mothers, and Britney is a glaring example of why. It’s not that she’s not motherly, it’s because she just doesn’t care for them directly and have the mindset of what most mothers have. As Carpenter again puts it:

Ever since Britney trotted out her tagline "not a girl, not yet a woman," she's been stuck in some kind of limbo. Though she has two children and two failed marriages under her belt (if she wore a belt) none of us can quite consider her an adult. Certainly not the kind of adult we think of her putative role-model Madonna as being -- someone who self-exploited with a bit more flair and authority.

"For the Record", available online by MTV in 23 different installments (!!!!! And yes, I watched it all in a row, Fantasy commercials be damned), received a lot of criticism for false advertising, for not showing us the real Britney and the “truth” behind her last few years of craziness. There are few details in “For the Record”, that’s true, but I enjoyed the documentary, ostensibly to promote her new album, Circus. Britney came across fairly intelligently, and her goofy humor is apparent when she happy and enjoying herself, usually interacting with her close associates. Britney very much has a babygirl voice, one that has been exploited in conjunction with her body for years, but it shines through most genuinely when it is unencumbered by pop stylings.

But we always want to learn more, and her past few years have only made us want to see the reasons behind the odd behavior. Britney, true to form, likes to tease us, promising that we will understand her through her music, but that’s rarely the case. Why should we expect so much out of dance pop?

Britney Spears is making a habit of putting out albums with titles that promise more self-revelation than she's ultimately able to provide. Last fall, she released Blackout...which turned out not to have anything to do with experiencing blackouts. This year, it's Circus, with a title track that's not about the madhouse her life has become but just a brag about her prowess as a whip-cracking sexual ringmaster.

That’s the opening to Entertainment Weekly’s review of Cirucs, which has generally received positive reviews. But as with most music of her genre, the review barely means anything. It’s hard to believe that Blackout came out a year ago—we’re so used to Britney the Paparazzi Princess that her music has become quite the backburner, even though it’s supposed to fuel her life. Up until a few months ago, it was kind of a big deal that she had never won any moonmen at the MTV Video Music Awards, despite being, arguably, their biggest star this decade. So, engineered for her “comeback”, she wins a few for “Piece of Me”, a song that's supposed to be about how she loses herself among her celebrity life. Bleh. Really, out of all her songs she could win for—especially for Video of the Year—“Piece of Me” should not even remotely be on the shortlist. But it’s supposed to be “deep”, a real look at the inner Britney—all bunk as far as I’m concerned. So many artists nowadays especially sing and moan about the perils of being famous that it all gets so trite to the listener, especially as it’s not a universal experience. But that’s a rant for another time.

I have no doubt that Britney will go on being Britney, and we will be treated to plenty more gym-ready gyrations, just as we will go on endlessly discussing her life. But don’t go on expecting a real breakthrough.

P.S. Though I’m not a fan of Lily Allen, she has a pretty good cover of "Womanizer".

Damn

I am totally going to this show next year.

Love Stories

A couple weeks ago, I wanted to write about how the success of House gives me faith in America. House is a complex show that deals with philosophical issues, about medical ethics, of right and wrong, connecting with people, of how to live. The fact that it is one of America’s top-rated shows—and one that is well-acted, generally well-written, and both a critical and fan favorite—makes me very happy. But I also realized that House does something that is very rare on television shows: two of the main characters, Gregory House and Lisa Cuddy, are both single for a long time.

As most people know, these are two characters who flirt and argue with each other, and often their scenes are fun to watch. They are the standard couple that fans are suppose to root for, and of course they’ll get together at the end of the series, as is television convention. What is notable is that their relationship obstacles are themselves—their own stubbornness, expectations, beliefs, habits, and personality quirks—and not other people. House does not date. Cuddy does not date. This is pretty big for television; most shows have boyfriends and girlfriends and affairs and would-be suitors that rotate out of the main characters’ lives, with various missed chances and misunderstandings. But as House has continued the past few weeks, with Cuddy and House kissing and acknowledging their attraction to each other, there have been those classic television misunderstandings, most notably in last week’s episode, “Let them Eat Cake”, where House is off flirting with a woman he hired to play a prank on Kutner and Taub. Cuddy sees this just as she’s about to forgive him for an earlier incident, since House had done something special for her.

Last weekend, I saw three movies that revolve around “grand” love affairs: Twilight, Australia, and a Bollywood hit titled Fanaa, which means “Destroyed in Love” in English. While it’s true that love stories follow similar arcs—there’s a meet cute, often involving a misunderstanding or a dislike, a gradual time of becoming friends, then really good friends, periods of crisis that draw the two together, the requisite confusing/scared emotions, the obstacles that keep the two apart (whether external or internal, or a combination)—it doesn’t mean that they are particularly interesting, victorious, or that they work at all. A formula does not mean success.

This is why most love stories aren’t good. They just aren’t. They’re everywhere, and that’s one of the problems—love stories are supposed to be special, exciting, meaningful, infused with pain, yet there’s an unbreakable sense of connection, friendship and yes, love, that underscores it all. That’s what the good ones do. You can follow all the rules, and still not have the story matter. Twilight, Australia and Fanaa had many of the standard elements, but none of them were particularly good. What struck me and my compatriots in watching the movies, though, was that there were thematic and tonal similarities: while all of them were over-the-top, the drama was ridiculous in Twilight and Fanaa. There was too much back-and-forth, too much “I can’t live without you!” hysterics. There was too much talk of dying for each other, of “You can’t be with me, because I will get you killed! I will ruin your life! And therefore we must STAY AWAY from each other!” In both Twilight and Australia, there was a scene where one of the leads doesn’t know how to dance and is shy. The genders were reversed, but the dialogue was practically the same in both movies, despite that one dealt with cowboys and the other vampires.

Love stories are overhyped, fit into any story because it’s considered a necessary element of success. Upping the ante by introducing politics, death, illness and other catastrophes is often considered another requirement of epic romances, but it’s not necessary and often takes away from the central story. That’s what happened in Twilight and Australia (although Australia's story wasn’t really about the romance, but was a substantial part of it). These elements are usually so over-the-top that they obscure the real romance and move it into parody, drawing out the movie so we just don’t care any more. That occurred in all three movies.

What’s missing in the movies, and in most love stories, is the friendship behind the leads. In Roger Ebert’s review of Twilight, he says, “They’re in love with being in love.” Bella and Edward spend the movie giving each other smoking, lustful looks and discussing why they can’t be together (he wants her blood too much), but there’s nothing else besides attraction that hold them together.

The central question of any love story should be: why do these two love each other? Why them? The audience needs to see why each cares for the other, why each genuinely likes the other. Most treat this question superficially, glossing over it for the more exciting romantic tension that awaits. But tension is meaningless and not as much fun if the fundamentals aren’t there, if the reason for the tension is perfunctory and silly.

I’m convinced that Michael Patrick King wanted to create a great love story in Big and Carrie in Sex and the City, and that’s the overwhelming feeling I’m left with whenever I see the finale. (I’m excusing the movie here because I feel it retreads a lot of the same ground, but it could work within this framework, since their love ends happily after a massive screw-up.) Here we see why Carrie and Big just have this overwhelming affection for each other—that they can laugh and flirt and just be fun with each other, and each likes the other’s playful attitude, that person’s love of New York City. Despite all their problems, they go back to each other—a controversial point in most romantic relationships, because this tendency can be destructive, hampering the necessity of moving on. Carrie and Big’s epic love story is one thing I take away from the show, and I think he succeeds in creating a lasting, captivating story, one with many believable, heart-wrenching turns.

One of the reasons The Office is such on shaky ground this season is that it doesn’t know what to do with its central couple, Jim and Pam. The show was phenomenal in its second and third seasons partly because it was powered by the unrequited love between those two, and the second season finale “Casino Night”, where Jim confesses his love to Pam and then kisses her, is considered by many to be the best episode of the series. Watching the friendship between the two, Jim’s longing and confusion followed by Pam’s longing and confusion, was at times exhilarating, heartbreaking, and frustrating, and garnered lots of fans of both the show and the characters. By coupling the characters early enough in the series, considered a radical move by many, the show set us up to watch their relationship grow. But the lack of romantic tension, sad to say, was not replaced by genuinely interesting and compelling storylines, but ones that had the potential to be so and then written off. Romantic intrigue was passed onto other characters, poorly, as if one great love story can be substituted for another.

While The Office can and hopefully will bounce back from the stupidity this lackluster season has brought, it could show what many want to see: a full-fledged, real relationship, without the excessive drama that plagues most television and movie romance. It can be done, and it can be done well—it just takes imagination and a real commitment to write a story based around interesting and compelling characters. But too often it just doesn’t seem palatable. After all, it’s very hard to write about a relationship in television or in the movies that’s about the after part of “happily ever after.” The joke is that it doesn’t exist.

As Emily Gould put it recently, when discussing Gossip Girl:

It’s rare to watch a tv show’s writers basically confess that they’ve hit a wall. Imagine if, somewhere around the third season of Friends, Ross had sat Rachel down and said, “You know, we’ll never stay together, because there would really be nothing to hang the misunderstanding-based hijinx of this show on.” When Chuck told Blair that “the game” is “what we like,” he might as well have been staring into the camera and addressing the audience directly. ‘When we finally get together,’ he’s saying, ‘you’ll know that Gossip Girl’s writers have finally gotten that memo from CW headquarters that they’ve got another episode or two to wrap things up.’

But less cynically, or maybe more cynically: the audience basically never gets to watch the ever-after part of romances – it’s boring, we’re given to understand, all that moviegoing and hand-holding. Love affairs have three acts, we know from tv, and even, a little, from our own experience. There’s the thrilling beginning, fraught with obstacles and delicious suffering. And then there’s the middle, the happy normalcy phase that actually maybe doesn’t even exist and is just a slow slide into the mediocrity and boredom that signals the end. Maybe there are just two acts, then.

And when act two is running its course, it’s back to the drawing board again.

More Beyoncé Angst

Emily Gould does a really good job describing "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" in her post on marriage:

Since she’s a married lady — married to Jay-Z, duh! — Beyoncé can’t very well sing lyrics like “man on my hips/got me tighter than my Dereon jeans,” anymore, so she has had to create an alternate persona named Sasha Fierce. Sasha performs the half of B’s new double album that’s not treacly, wife-appropriate ballads, and the best of the resulting tracks, ‘Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)’ is not going to start getting played by wedding DJs anytime soon. It’s a feminist anthem! Well, sort of. If you want it to be. It’s a classic post-breakup eff you about being “up in the club” and dancing with another guy to make your ex jealous — “I could care less what you think,” ‘Sasha’ sings, which is always a funny kind of line because, hello, you are making it clear that you’re just acting this way for the dude’s benefit. (cf: “You probably think this song is about you” [MediaMaven note: Carly Simon's "You're So Vain"] or “Thanks to you, now I get what I want.” [Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone"]). And then the chorus: an amazing, jumpropey chant of “If you like it then you should have put a ring on it.” In the video the chorus is accompanied by an amazing hip-twitching dance that’s capped by this move where Beyoncé and her backup dancers raise and revolve their left hands, flashing what ought to be conspicuously ringless fingers — “All the single ladies, put your hands up!” But Beyoncé doesn’t just have her famous 5 million dollar diamond — hey, what happened to ‘Sasha?’ — on hers, she’s also got on a whole metal-plated robot glove that makes ominous and addictive and comic-bookish kriiiing sounds when she twists her wrist.

‘Sasha’ wants to be up in the club, acting up, drink in her cup — but she also, badly, wants someone to put a ring on it, or at least she wants someone to want to.

Emily's onto something. She ends her post in a very Housian way, with "we're all going to die alone anyway"--very cynical and reductive. But I understand her ambivalence, and the onslaught of the current culture, especially if you're single and a woman, is just so damn hard to fight sometimes. I listened to a lot of "Single Ladies" last week (as well as I am Sasha Fierce, since it's available free on MySpace), and while the album was better than I expected, it was still the usual Beyoncé fare. And I felt incredibly guilty and conflicted listening to it. Why? I liked the music, and I actually thought it was good, but it was just that the messages offended me. Do people feel this way when they listen to Eminem or hardcore racist mysogynistic rap? Beyoncé's songs (like so many other pop songs) are reductive. There's nothing wrong with that--music doesn't have to be deep, and I love plenty of music and musicians that aren't. But I just can't figure out why her music bothers me so. One of the reasons I've always loved Beyoncé is because she's a consummate professional--she's just so confident and cool and just so good at what she does. I've never seen her perform, but my brother told me she's one hell of a performer, and her performance with Tina Turner at the Grammys was fantastic, to say the least. I'm tired of her songs being the same two notes--I-love-my-man-so-much-I'll-do-anything-for-him, and My-man-screwed-me-over-I-don't-need-him-anymore. It doesn't fit her life, and if she wants to show audiences a more personal side of her, she's failing (I am Sasha Fierce is not bold and honest). She needs to grow up, look past the simplistic polars of relationships, and stop infusing an entire generation of women with retarded notions of love.

But boy, do I ever wish I could dance like Beyoncé in that video. Hot damn.

OMG! It's OVER!

TRL is ending.

Too much JT, too much new stuff. Stick with the nostalgia.

OF COURSE they go over. If I remember correctly, if they went over with the actual show it'd just be cut off and we'd hear Carson shoving the last words out before the camera cut.

And in true TRL style, the top ten videos played are on for less than a minute. Nice.

I was hoping they'd do a lightening-fast montage of every video played, every artist on the show...those things are fun.

Britney Spears, "...Baby One More Time" is the #1 most influential video under the TRL years. And yep, I totally guessed it.

So yeah, pointless post. Time to truly say goodbye to my teenage years.

And Another Thing, Beyoncé...

As if women don't have enough problems, we should expect a man who will do all these things:

[...] what I deserve

Is a man that makes me then takes me
And delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond

Dear Lord, Beyoncé, a man is going to exalt me to such new heights that I'll go beyond infinity? That orgasm sure must be powerful.

I deserve a man who's going to take me to my destiny. Which means that my destiny can only be achieved by such a great man. So then that great man must arrive, right? The logic of this gives me a headache.

So does this mean that if this unbelievable man with unbelievable charms doesn't fit into this unbelievable package, then "like a ghost, I'll be gone"? I shouldn't accept anything less than infinite magic?

What Beyoncé Should Sing...

...Is "Angel". Natasha Bedingfield's "Angel."

Now this is a song about respecting your man. It's the complete opposite of practically everything Beyoncé sings, even as a member of Destiny's Child. Natasha wants her man to be disrespected so she can rush to his defense and show the world how proud of his she is. She wants women to stand up to prove there are good guys out there. She's tired of the Beyoncés of the world, constantly bashing their men.

"Angel" even fits into the retrograde values that Beyoncé & co. espouses. Although there are elements of the "Cater 2 U" philosophy, Natasha Bedingfield doesn't intend to pamper her guy or bow down to his every whim. She does, however, put herself aside so her man can have the spotlight. That's a bit worrisome. But she'll do whatever he wishes. There are no strings--she just loves the dude.

What struck me the first time about "Angel", though, was that the sentiment of the song--wanting to protect one's lover "from the pain"--is something most commonly heard from males. Men sing about protecting women all the time. Women, not so much. It's the verb that changes the sentiment slightly, since it's men who are the stereotypical protectors and saviors. Men will sing promises of keep their lady "safe from danger", not the other way around.

But she's still a woman. She'll guide him home and provide shelter, as images of hearth and home are traditional to females. Even the title of the song, "Angel", tends to be associated with women, though guardian angels can be either gender.

"Angel" continues the trend of spelling out the title (see Stefani, Gwen; "Hollaback Girl", and Fergie; "Glamorous"). The video has multiple Natashas singing in multiple outfits (like Beyoncé's current video for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)"), but it's done in front of black-and-white drawings in panes, like comics, a style I really like. Also, her green dress reminds me of the one Carrie wore in the Sex and the City finale.

Overall, Natasha Bedingfield is a woman who's had lots of positive messages in her music. She even released a song, "Single", about how great being single is. It wasn't sarcastic; unfortunately, it was dreadful. So dreadful that I won't link to it and I'm embarrassed to mention it. Her songs are positive, and from what I've seen, she's a pretty upbeat and down-to-earth person who seems to have some semblence of what she's singing about. Now that's the kind of women pop music needs more of.