Britney Jean is Triumphant

Since announcing her eighth album, Britney Spears has promised that it would be her most personal one yet. With this reputation preceding it, one would expect Britney Jean to delve intimately into her public meltdown or divulge juicy details behind her split from Jason Trawick earlier this year, but that's not the case. The album is not an autobiography; instead, it's a musical experimentation on which Britney takes risks and distances herself from her previous body of work.

At this point in her career, Britney has nothing to prove. While pop tarts like Lady Gaga, Rihanna, and Miley Cyrus compete to be the raunchiest and most provocative singer out there, concurrently letting whatever talent they have fall to the wayside, Britney is letting her music speak for itself, completely gimmick-free.

Britney Jean is very much like the singer's other self-titled album, Britney (2001), in that it's a transitional album. But while her third album took the "not yet a girl, not yet a woman" from teen queen to the dance diva, delivering club-ready jams with which she has since become synonymous, Britney Jean exposes a vulnerable, more mature side of the icon that could signify a major turning point in her career. It fits, given that she'll turn 32 the day before the album's December 3 release.

The album opens up with an airy mid-tempo called "Alien", one of its strongest tracks. "There was a time I was one of a kind/Lost in a world of me, myself, and I," she coos at the beginning of the space-age song. Upon first listen, "Alien" seems to talk about Britney finding herself in a lover, but the track could easily be a commentary on the singer's fame. After all, what Britney album would be complete without its own "Lucky" or "Piece of Me"?

Singles "Work Bitch" and "Perfume" follow the opener, and their interaction speaks to the album's versatility. The former is an aggressive, bass-heavy club banger devoid of any melodic substance; the latter is a vulnerable 80s-inspired ballad about insecurity and jealousy in a relationship. Together, they span the diverse pop spectrum Britney has covered in her career, but still manage to be fresh and unlike anything the singer has put out before or anything you're likely to hear on the radio.

The next track, "It Should Be Easy", marks the third time Britney has teamed up with will.i.am. The robotic dance song is fun and surprisingly sentimental, but it also proves that the two singers are quickly becoming a tiresome duo.

The fifth song, the T.I.-assisted "Tik Tik Boom", is energizing and extremely catchy; in short, it's a true jam. When Britney harps, "Not too slow and not too quick/Baby make me tik tik boom!", the song immediately demands radio airplay. "Body Ache", crafted by David Guetta, is the perfect successor. It's a simmering mid-tempo on which Britney wants to dance to the night away.

"Til It's Gone", another top speed dance song, is probably the most forgettable song on the album, especially as it follows two prime dance tracks that leaves it in the dust. "Passenger", the guitar-driven, Katy Perry-penned track, follows. Britney letting her hair down while her lover take the wheel: "I've never been a passenger, no/But we'll see more without a map." There's so much potential in this song; not only could it be a hit single, but it could open the door for a pop-rock oriented album in the future.

One of the most bizarre tracks on the album is "Chillin' With You", Britney's duet with sister Jamie Lynn. It's equal parts synthetic and twangy, a unique combination that stands out, but probably not in the way it's supposed to. "Don't Cry", which opens with a haunting Western whistle, closes the album as Britney bids her lover a last goodbye. Still, it's hard not to think of this song as Britney's farewell to her fans. "Pack my bags, can't take no more/Adios, I'm out the door/Hide your tears and dry your eyes/Cause I don't wanna see you cry," she sings. With her Las Vegas residency, we shouldn't expect another album from Britney for another few years, but a longer hiatus wouldn't come as a surprise.

At 10 tracks, the standard edition of Britney Jean is much too short. But every song is unique in its own right, and together, they prove that a legend of Britney's standing doesn't need to cater to the demands of the beat-hungry public. This isn't the album of a pop star, this is the album of a true artist.

Miley's New Album Bangerz Is Full of A-List Collabs, Liam Hemsworth, and Bangerz... But Is That a Good Thing?

RIP Hannah Montana

By the end of this year, some of the biggest women in music will have released new material, making 2013 the Hunger Games of pop music. And in this age of crowded radio airwaves, talent is not enough to win. Maybe that's why these pop princesses think if they show enough skin and cross enough lines, they're true artists. Nobody is guiltier of practicing this philosophy than Miley Cyrus, whose foam-fingering, tongue-wagging, ass-twerking debauchery has been the hottest topic on the planet for the past few months. Bangerz, her first album in three years and fourth overall, is the musical embodiment of her recent public transformation, which she has aptly labeled a "strategic hot mess."

But controversy does not equal talent, and while Bangerz is more or less unmistakably Miley, it's hard to ignore the fact that her new musical identity, which she swears is completely genuine, is a calculated cocktail made up of the best parts of Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, Ke$ha, and Rihanna. At it's best, Bangerz showcases what the Disney darling has picked up from these women. At its worst, the album feels like a massive hangover. And though she fails in her efforts to be the ultra pop star and the album just might have what it takes to turn the singer into an actualized musician.

Oddly enough, the album opens with the ballad "Adore You", an undeniably romantic ode to Liam Hemsworth, "holy matrimony" and all. The song does a good job of preparing the listener for the innumerable lyrics clearly aimed at her ex-fiancé; however, it completely buries the lead. Even the second track, "We Can't Stop", is too tame sonically, although it does capture the carefree, smoked-out content that dictates the rest of the album.

The third track, "SMS (Bangerz)", a cheery rap-off with Britney Spears, sets the pace for what follows. The song is disjointed and loud, but when Britney comes in and is all, "Catwalk, slick talk, flirting with them big dogs," she instantly puts Miley's Ke$ha-wannabe speak-singing to shame. Miss Cyrus attempts unabashed rapping on "Do My Thang", on which she proclaims, "I'm a southern belle, crazier than hell." If anything, the song is a good argument that Miley should never rap again.

"#GETITRIGHT" is Miley's attempt at Daft Punk's "Get Lucky", and oddly enough, both were crafted by Pharrell. In it, the singer exudes the same confidence she did while humping a wrecking ball completely naked: "I'm dancing in the mirror/I feel like I got no panties on/I wish that I could feel ya/So hurry, hang up that damn phone."

Every once in a while, Miley tosses out dramatic ballads. While "Wrecking Ball", the singer's first domestic number one single, stands out well on its own, it becomes quickly jaded and repetitive on the album when tracks like "Adore You", "Maybe You're Right", and "My Darlin'" capture the same sound and emotions.

Only twice on the album does Miley get experimental (a generous term for deviating slightly from her peers), and it yields mixed results. The Nelly-featured "4x4" is merrily infused with country elements. The duo takes on Bonnie & Clyde personas as they let their Southern twang run as wild as the high-speed chase they sing about. On "FU", Miley attempts to emulate Adele against a French Montana-produced EDM backdrop as she belts out, "I got two, two two letters for you/One of them's F and the other one's U". It's easily the most uninspired and blood-curdling song on the album.

Every song on Bangerz is a banger: a loud, colorful, trashy depiction of how the singer lives (or at least how she wants us to think she lives). But it's in that chaos that the album works; even when it's bad, it's so bad, it's almost good. Miley isn't doing anything that hasn't been done before her, and Bangerz is hardly the artistic statement she thinks it is, but this very well may be the record that legitimizes Miley as anything but Hannah Montana gone bad.

The Good, the Bad, and the Rihanna: Selena Gomez's Stars Dance is a Damn Hot Mess

Come and get it... July 23.

It's standard for most artists to take two years between albums, so when Selena Gomez announced a music hiatus, nobody thought much of it, even if it did break her three-albums-in-less-than-two-years streak. But since 2011's When the Sun Goes Down, Selena made the leap from 18 to 20, split with her band the Scene, partook in a highly publicized and reportedly tumultuous relationship with Justin Bieber, and distanced herself from her clean Disney days with a bikini-clad, bong-smoking role in Spring Breakers.

So it's not much of a surprise that Selena's first solo effort, Stars Dance, is quite a departure from her kid-friendly catalog. With its hip-hop, dubstep, and house music elements, it takes more musical risks by a Disney-helmed pop album since Hilary Duff's Dignity, a dance compilation released before the genre was commercially viable. Stars Dance presents a more sexually confident Selena, who seems more dependent on autotune now more than ever. And despite Selena's constant accreditation of Britney Spears as the biggest influence on the record, the Queen of Pop's impact is minimal at best. Instead, Stars Dance seems like it was assembled from a pile of leftover Rihanna tracks. (In the case of lead single "Come & Get It", this happens to be true.)

The result is, as the title of this review states, a damn hot mess. Never before has Selena disappointed so much. Her presence on the album is almost non-existent; instead, her weak vocals are processed to hell, and her producers create a slick and glossy package that she slaps her name on. Even her attempts to get personal seem anonymous (more on that later). Still, like is true with too many artists today, Selena's music never has to be good to be catchy, infectious, and, at times, fun, and Stars Dance is not without these moments.

The album opens with "Birthday", a candy-coated, dubstep-laden, rap-infused song on which Selena chants, "Tell 'em it's my birthday/When I party like that." It's like Gwen Stefani meets Rihanna, a fun, albeit quickly annoying, combination. And when Selena musters her best drunken sorority girl impression as she beltches out, "Party ooon, babyyyy" during the verse, one wishes this song was around in time for the Spring Breakers soundtrack.

Other songs also find Selena outside of her musical comfort zone. And sometimes it works. The Middle Eastern-inspired "Come & Get It", a former Jam of the Week, is the album's strongest track. "Save the Day", which is pure dance floor bliss, harkens back to Selena's days with the Scene. "Undercover" is also a highlight, and probably the album's most scandy track. On the song, Selena calls her man a "sexy machine," and declares: "I wanna find a place where we can be alone in the dark/And you can navigate me like a map that you know by heart." It's slinky, sexy, and the closest Selena has ever gotten to getting on Britney's level.

However, sometimes Selena's ambitious musical direction backfires. "Like a Champion" has Rihanna's name written all over it. Selena attacks the lyrics with a laughable Riri-esque accent, and the pitter-patter of those "rom pa pa poms" are ripped right from the Barbadian singer's signature reggae flair. And the numbing repetition of "Forget Forever", a retitled version of the previously-leaked "Rule the World", will have you longing for Rihanna's "We Found Love".

Similarly, "B.E.A.T." mimics another rising pop star. On the track, Selena sings, "I like the lights in my hand and the beat in my face." Does that line remind you of any Dev lyrics in particular? The rest of the album is just as dismissible. The trippy and heavily-autotuned "Stars Dance" and the vacant and familiar "Write Your Name" are both boring as hell.

Good or bad, what all these songs have in common is an airy superficiality. Only once does Selena delve beneath the surface. "Love Will Remember" is obviously about the collapse of her romance with Justin. But the album version of the song is without the alleged Bieber voicemail that was present when the track leaked last week. Without this personal touch, the song is robbed of its identity, and suddenly, the vulnerability of  "Love Will Remember" is about as convincing as that on "The Way I Loved You", a death-of-love song Selena tried to tackle when she was only 15 and hadn't even held hands with someone who wasn't named Jonas.

Even at its best, Stars Dance disappoints. While Miley Cyrus has recently dismissed her old music, and Demi Lovato has never developed the musical identity to match her amazing voice, Selena was lucky enough to perfect her artistry on When the Sun Goes Down, which is bubblegum pop at its finest. Stars Dance undoes this feat, trapping Selena in the same anonymity and incohesiveness she struggled with earlier in her career.

The final verdict: Selena gets major brownie points for her impressive musical risks, but that same ambition costs the album the presence of its star.

Why Heidi Montag's Album Isn't as Bad as You'd Think (And Yes, This Pains Me to Admit)

Ratchet.

Most of you are probably unaware, but in 2010, The Hills star Heidi Montag released an album. And... it wasn't bad. Dare I say, it was almost good. I'll get into that later, but let me preface this reasoning by first explaining that I detest Heidi, as should the rest of the air-breathing population. So naturally, when I heard the reality starlet was headed into the recording studio, I feared the worst.

Nothing Heidi did in the months leading up to her album's release indicated that it would be anything but utter shit. She married ratchet fucktard Spencer Pratt, got 10 plastic surgeries in one day, and released the ear-splitting buzz single "Higher" (only click the link if you have a high tolerance for pain). But perhaps most offensively, she got her hand on a Britney Spears demo, recorded over it, and leaked it to the public in an effort to convince everyone she had collaborated with one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. And on the eve of the album's release, when Heidi revealed that she had personally funded the $2 million project and was confident that she would get all the money back after one week of release, I laughed at her just like everybody else.

And then Superficial, as the album was aptly titled, was released. And I was surprised at how good it was. Don't get me wrong, there is absolutely no talent her. Heidi's vocals are autotuned to hell, and I can still only just tolerate them. The songs are uninspired and reductive (one track, "Blackout", was even written by a 9-year-old Taylor Momsen). But Heidi set out to make a fun dance mix and that's exactly what she did. The album's opening tracks, "Look How I'm Doing" and "Turn Ya Head", could have easily been top 40 hits if they were sung by anybody else. My personal favorite, "I'll Do It", is undeniably fun while  "Love It or Leave It" should have been a Britney record. Other highlights include the dance jam "More is More" and the titular "Superficial".

So remember the whole "don't judge a book by its cover" saying? This definitely applies here. With Superficial, that was only ever digitally released, you do get what you think: a collection of vapid songs that embody everything that's wrong with the pop music industry. But that doesn't mean they aren't fun!

PS If you're just loving these jams, you should also check out "Body Language", which Heidi performed at the Miss Universe pageant to a TV audience of nearly one billion, "Bionic". Neither made the album, but they're some of her best.

Review: The Bling Ring

Calabitchin'.

Without a doubt, The Bling Ring was my personally most anticipated film of 2013, but it really shouldn't have been. It's directed by Sofia Coppola, whose cinematic creativity fails (Marie Antoinette) as often as it succeeds (Lost in Translation). Emma Watson is its star (or at least appeared to be at one point; more on that later), and I'm not particularly fond of her. And as the film's release drew near, it became alarmingly evident that this might not be a fictional retelling of the celebrity burglaries so much as an attempt at social satire, a la Spring Breakers, which we all know was some real horse shit. Despite all of this, I still looked forward to it and saw it opening night upon its June 21 wide release. But even two days later, I'm still unsure of what to make of the film.

If you followed the real-life Bling Ring in the news back in 2010 like I did, then you already know that the film focuses on a group of Calabasas teenagers that burglarized the homes of some of Hollywood's biggest stars with incredible ease and, for nearly a year, no consequence. The film primarily follows Marc (Israel Broussard), a shy and insecure teenager who befriends Rebecca (Katie Chang), his fashion-forward classmate, at Indian Hills High, an alternative school for troubled kids. Together, they rob cars and friends' homes, but they soon set their sights on more ambitious targets: stars like Orlando Bloom, Lindsay Lohan, and Paris Hilton, whose house they burgle more than once. Their only tool is the internet, which tells them the celebrity's addresses and whereabouts. Eventually their circle expands to include several of their fame-hungry friends, including Nicki (Emma Watson), a fictionalized version of reality star and Cunt of the Week Alexis Neiers.

Most of the film is a continuous loop of robbing and partying, robbing and partying, robbing and partying. It would be incredibly repetitive, but that is in fact how these kids spent their time, and much of the monotony is broken up by shots like the one in which we see Audrina Patridge's full house and watch from a distance as Rebecca and Marc snoop from room to room. Scenes like this are unforgiving portrayals of the utter invasion of privacy, painting the characters as the criminals they are.

Simultaneously basic and pressed.

But it's not as if Coppola attempts to make her "protagonists" likable or really even human. They're simply symbols of the hunger for fame and fortune. As such, nothing is really required by the actors, but their hollow performances are still intriguing. Only Watson, however, manages to add depth to lines like "Your butt looks awesome." But perhaps that's because she has an unfair advantage; a good portion of her dialog is lifted from direct quotes of Neiers' from interviews or her reality show. (If you watched Pretty Wild, you'll love how its most ridiculous scenes are re-enacted in the film; but no, that unfortunately does not include the infamous Nancy Jo phone call.)

The main point of the film, however, is that it is a satire. Just as Spring Breakers poked fun at teenage superficiality and the spring break mentality, The Bling Ring satirizes our culture's obsession with celebrities and social media (after all, the bandits get through Facebook). But the film barely makes this point, forgoing commentary on the vapid materialism in favor of faithfully telling the story as it actually happens. Because The Bling Ring can't decide if it's a satire or a biopic, it mostly comes off as a move about bored, airheaded teens misbehaving.

That said, the film has a much more sound narrative structure than Spring Breakers, and it's arguably the darker film. You leave the theater feeling guilty, because all of us are guilty of the same fascination with fame and wealth, maybe not enough to steal, but certainly to a lesser degree. Because this message doesn't quite land, only those familiar with the real Bling Ring, or interested in their story, should see the movie. Otherwise, don't give it a second thought.

Review: Demi by, Well, Demi Lovato

"This time there's NO holding back," Demi Lovato tweeted in April 2012 as she began writing her fourth studio album. In the year that followed, the fallen Disney angel promised fans an ultra-autobiographical record. She even named the damn thing after herself, thus preparing the world for a musical shit storm of daddy issues, substance abuse, and self-harm.

Then, this past Monday, Demi encouraged fans to tweet the album's hashtagged song titles to unlock the tracks; the more they tweeted, the sooner the songs would arrive. Within two hours, Lovatics worldwide had officially unlocked Demi in its entirety, over a week before its official May 14 release date. Premature access to the album was definitely a gift from the gods, a refreshing pop splash in a rather dry spring of music releases. The album is fun and energetic, but one thing is evident right off that bat: it's not the introspective compilation the songstress made it out to be.

Of Demi's thirteen tracks, only the final two might be considered uniquely tailored to her personal life; on the stand-out track "Shouldn't Come Back", Demi sings about severing all ties with her negligent father, while "Warrior" clearly speaks to her experiences with bullying and low self esteem. Not every pop star has a bad relationship with her dad and a self confidence so low that she winds up in rehab for four months, so kudos to Demi for digging deep. The only problem? She's done both songs before on her last album: the former is thematically identical to "For the Love of a Daughter"; the latter is an instantly forgettable sequel to "Skyscraper".

And maybe that's not a bad thing. Demi's third album Unbroken might be her funnest, albeit her least cohesive. Its mosh pit of genres and heavy reliance on guest artists like Jason Derulo, Dev, and Timbaland may indicate a lack of any solid direction, but Unbroken successfully and tastefully differentiated the new, self-empowered Demi from her pre-rehab, "Sonny With a Chance" basic self.

Unfortunately, Demi doesn't continue on the same trajectory. As quite arguably the most underrated pop vocalist of our day, whose singing ability is frequently likened to that of Kelly Clarkson and Christina Aguilera, Demi sure limits herself to the Radio Disney scope. "Something That We're Not" sounds like a One Direction leftover and "Made in the USA" has Miley Cyrus' name written all over it, and not just because of her affinity for patriotic song titles. Even "Really Don't Care", a duet with Cher Lloyd, comes off as the kid sister to Icona Pop's "I Love It".

However, Demi still has a lot to recommend it. Its opening track "Heart Attack" is a former Jam of the Week, so you know that shit's legit. "Without the Love" and "Two Pieces" reaffirm Demi's status as a formidable pop star, and the aforementioned "Shouldn't Come Back" displays an emotional depth and vocal maturity that peers like Miley and Selena Gomez couldn't even begin to attempt.

Though Demi fails to take the singer forward in her musical journey, it proves to be a solid pop album. Those hoping for Taylor Swift-level personal details will be disappointed, but Lovatics will be more than satisfied, and Demi's impressive voice alone is enough to win over new converts.

Don't Be Fooled! Spring Breakers Will Mindfuck the Shit Out of You!

It had so much potential to be such trashy fun.

On the surface, Spring Breakers seems like a fun, raunchy teen comedy about slutty college girls letting go of their inhibitions and kicking back in Miami for a week. And I believe this is what they wanted us to think. They wanted you to think you were seeing a guilty pleasure flick about former Disney Channel stars drinking or taking a hit from a bong for the first time. BUT THAT IS NOT AT ALL WHAT THIS FILM IS ABOUT. Now I won't tell you not to see it, but I will let you know exactly what you're in store for. (Don't worry, I'll try not to spoil anything.)

Spring Breakers stars Disney darlings Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens, Pretty Little Liar Ashley Benson, and some bitch who I've never heard of, but she's apparently married to the director, as four college girls. (Their names are all really weird and said so few times in the film that one couldn't possible learn them.) I'm not sure where the fuck these girls are from, but apparently it's so goddamn unbearable and they're just so bored because all they do is see the same things and people every day. Um, yeah. That's called life, dip shits. Also, where is this college? It doesn't look southern, but y'all sure say "y'all" a lot.

Anyway, the girls decide to go on a last-minute spring break vacay to Miami, where they get entangled with a drug dealer named Alien (James Franco) and hijinks ensue. So far, it sounds like a hilarious teen comedy, right? You couldn't be more wrong, because that is literally the plot. Nothing else happens. Allow me to explain.

On top of being filmed from weird angles, Spring Breakers has the most screwy narrative structure I've ever seen. Scenes are spliced and intercut with one another all over the goddamn place. Several are revisited several times. In general, they're shown in sequence, but the film often jumps backward or leaps forward, barely bothering to fill in what happens in the middle. If it were to be re-edited linearly, the 93-minute flick would probably only last half that running time. Spring Breakers tries too hard to be innovative and artistic, that it loses any semblance of an actual film in the process. It's as if an overeager film student was given the resources to create his idea of a masterpiece.

Three shitty dye jobs should be reason enough not to see this.

Consequently, there's hardly any dialog. You like Selena Gomez? That's too fucking bad. Not only does she barely speak, but she only appears in the first half of the film. And as much as Selena likes to brag about this film as a sign of her maturation, she plays the least interesting and cleanest-cut girl of the bunch. Her role doesn't exactly require any talent, and she totally blows the only dramatic scene she had to prove herself. Her performance is a painfully transparent attempt at shedding her Disney image, and it totally backfires.

As for the other girls, well, they're fucking tacky and insane. There's nothing redeemable or likable about any of these characters. The only mildly interesting character is James Franco's Alien, but even he comes off as a creepy uncle fresh out of jail for fondling an underage girl. Everything is so unsettling, even disturbing at some points. These characters are criminals, completely devoid of any humanity.

In short, the film only succeeds at making the audience uncomfortable by try too hard and exploiting its stars. It does, however, gets bonus points for its boundless colors and its mad appreciation for Britney Spears (as disturbing as it is to hear her beautiful ballad "Everytime" score a montage of unsavory activity). And if you've ever wanted to see your favorite teen starlets engage in beer-guzzling, pot-smoking, girl-kissing, gun-wielding fun, then maybe this film is for you. But just be warned you're in for some avant garde bullshit.

Review: Liz & Dick

Is she high? They can't even photoshop her to sobriety.

This past holiday weekend, I gave thanks to Lifetime for providing me with the opportunity to watch Lindsay Lohan make her comeback in the highly coveted role of Elizabeth Taylor. You see, sometime last year, LizzieTay said, "It's my dream to have my life's story told on the silver screen with the aid of the most talented and respected actors Hollywood has to offer." So Lifetime, known for its cinematic mastery, said okay and cast Lilo, who is known the world over for her refined acting skill, reliability, and clean bill of health. And then Elizabeth Taylor died.

The film chronicles the controversial marriage of Taylor and Richard Burton (Grant Bowler), starting with their affair on the set of Cleopatra. What follows is an epic shitshow, with choppy scenes, crappy writing, and cringe-worthy acting. Lindsay did her best to keep Liz's faint British accent, but she couldn't stop herself from slipping back into her natural husky valley girl voice that kind of makes you wish the last Rihanna song you heard just annihilated your ability to hear once and for all. And while Richard was an actor trained in Shakespearean theater, I don't he really talked like he was from the fucking 1400s. "I've got an entire ocean in you." Yuck! The only thing you have with Lindsay is a brick of cocaine. #SorryBoutIt

As Elizabeth and Richard's affair progresses, they break ties with their respective spouses, which prompts Richard's wife to attempt suicide and guilt him into staying with her. So what does Lindsay as Liz do? The same thing. "I won't live without you!" she screams as she downs a handful of sleeping pills with a vodka chaser. "This shouldn't take too long." Nice.

Later, Liz takes a break from both her career and the affair. While attempting to bond with her children, she just screams, out of nowhere, "I'm bored! I'M SO BORED!" It truly is amazing how eloquently she conveyed the audience's opinions. And from there, everything is kind of a blur. At one point, Liz & Dick are living on a boat, slipping deeper into alcoholism, and calling each other fat (or, more specifically, "Miss Pudgy Digits"). They get divorced and then remarried in Botswana. And then divorced again.

Oh, and then this happened. Lol at the shitty aging make-up.

The most deplorable element of Liz & Dick, however, is its mockumentary aspect. Reality-style confessionals of the two titular characters are randomly interspersed throughout the film. The writer clearly didn't know how to convey the characters' emotions in the script's dialog, so he just decided to have them break the fourth wall and literally just tell the audience how they feel. How neat. It was all too confusing as well, as Lindsay and Grant are playing the characters at their ages in the beginning of the film, yet they're reminiscing about events that took place almost two decades later, like Dick's death. Is this some sort of quasi-heaven?

In all honesty, the film is not that bad. In the grand scheme of things, it's at least on par with much of what Lifetime usually barfs out. But everything was working against it. One of the most controversial stars today was portraying one of the most controversial stars in history. Everybody expected it to be memorable but also made up their minds ahead of time that it would be horrible. I'm not saying Lindsay deserves an Emmy for this, and her skill has definitely suffered in the hazy years between now and her Mean Girls hay day, but shouldn't we be commending her for at least attempting to get her life back on track?

Nah. This was total garbage and she should be ashamed of herself. You can bet your bottom dollar the Elizabeth Taylor is probably having a fucking seizure in her grave over this mess. I think Linday should star in a crappy CBS sitcom or something. That will keep her working consistently and (hopefully) out of rehab or jail and off the roads!

Review: Paradise by Lana Del Rey

Explicit content indeed.

The summer of 2011 was quite eventful. With Britney Spears on tour, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything else. But it was during those hot months that the artist formerly known as Lizzie Grant starting making waves in the music scene. Lana Del Rey's debut single, "Video Games", put her on the map and she had many people buzzing that she was the savior of pop music; however, she's since experience the ugly side of fame. After two atrocious appearances on Saturday Night Live, critics brutally attacked her debut album Born to Die and wrote her off as quickly as they had originally embraced her.

But that shit ain't gonna keep Lana down. This week, she released her latest work, Paradise. Overall, the album lacks the diversity that made Born to Die so great (where's the quasi-rapping, Lana?), but proves that her debut album was more than just a fluke; she may be a little annoying, and incredibly haunting, but she is talented!

Paradise opens with former Jam of the Week "Ride". As I stated in that post, the song is quintessential Lana, as she sings about wandering through life, looking for love to give her a purpose. "Ride" sets up the album perfectly. "I've been trying too hard with one pretty song," she sings, most likely referencing the single that made her famous. I'm loving the autobiographical content, Lana.

"American", the second track, is one of Lana's prettiest songs. To be honest, I'm not sure what this song accomplishes other than expressing Lana's fondness for Americana, but something meaningful must exist within the lyric "Be young, be dope, be proud/Like an American," a line which is followed by excessive cooing. While I don't know what this song means, I know how it makes me feel, and it makes me feel like I should be rolling around in an American flag while high off shrooms.

"My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola," Lana sings at the top of "Cola", the funniest song on the album. The track tells the story of a teenage girl seducing an older married man, which a theme I can really support because it's hilarious. What else is comical? When she says, "Drugs suck it up/Like vanilla Icees/Don't treat me rough/Treat me really nicies." Lana's songs are no strangers to baby-talk, but this really takes the cake for its ridiculousness. After listening to this song, I ask you two questions: (1) Between "Cola" and "Diet Mountain Dew" from her debut album, what's up with Lana's cold pop fixation? And (2) What carbonated beverage does your pussy taste like?

"Body Electric" is the next song, and it opens with the lines, "Elvis is my daddy/Marilyn's my mother/Jesus is my bestest friend." The rest of the song is, unfortunately, a let down. The entire chorus consists of Lana simply saying, "I sing the body electric." What the fuck is the body electric? I'm not sure, but I don't like Lana making up shit to sing about.

Lana's cover of "Blue Velvet" is, quite frankly, disturbing. If you've seen any of Lana's H&M commercials, this is the song playing. It truly makes me feel as if I'm about to get married in some seedy motel or something. I don't like it. At all. Moving on.

"Gods & Monsters" is a great song, if for nothing else but its title. Keeping with the overall theme of the album, the song is about sex. "In the land of gods and monsters/I was an angel looking to get fucked hard," she sings. And apparently, she gets her wish, as additional lyrics go: "Fuck yeah, give it to me/This is heaven, what I truly want." I just wonder if she nailed a god or a monster.

The next song, "Yayo", makes me want to die. Seriously, even Lana sounds like the life is being drained from her as she sings. I'm not sure what a yayo is, but I'm applying the "Body Electric" principle here. I don't like songs about made-up shit!

The final song on the standard edition, "Bel Air" is wonderful because the music makes me feel like I'm driving down Wisteria Lane on a bright spring day. The song successfully conveys the opulence of its namesake, and I'm all for things about rich people.

If you get the album on iTunes, you'll be treated to the bonus track "Burning Desire". It might as well be titled "Ride Part II", as it is incredibly similar to the opening song, at least in theme. One one hand, this makes it a great finale for the album; on the other hand, it seems rather excessive.

In conclusion, Paradise is classic Lana. She exudes the same sex-crazed, love-starved fragility that was at the heart of Born to Die. It proves that Lana is more than a one-hit wonder, but also reminds us all, with its many flaws, that she isn't the savior of pop music as she was once heralded.

When Allegedly Good Movies End Up Sucking Ass: The Dark Knight Rises

Looking down into the hell that was my viewing experience.

Yeah, you heard me, Christopher Nolan!

I realize that The Dark Knight Rises plagued theaters three months ago, but my anger toward the film has yet to subside. Any atrocity that inflicts months-long damage certainly deserves to be commented on.

Like so many citizens of this blue planet, I was both ecstatic and somewhat skeptical of the concept of a rebooted Batman film series. It would take something out-of-this-world amazing to erase the stain that was Arnold Schwarzenegger and Uma Thurman playing an evil ice cream man and a drag queen with a plant fetish, respectively. But Christopher Nolan had a fresh vision for Gotham City and its famous citizens. In 2005's Batman Begins, he introduced a gritty and reality-based universe and it was just fantastic. The Dark Knight, which was released in 2008, was even better. These movies made a ton of money and everybody loved them. So naturally, this year's The Dark Knight Rises, the third and final film in the series, was one of the most anticipated cinematic events in a super long time.

Too bad it fucking blew ass.

There were so many things wrong with The Dark Knight Rises, starting with its title. What the FUCK does The Dark Knight Rises even mean? I don't recall seeing Batman (Christian Bale) rise from anything. What I remember is his debilitated ass being thrown in some underground prison in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and spending pretty much the whole movie there. If "rising" means he eventually managed the strength to get out of the hole, then fine, I'll permit that (even though it's complete bullshit). What I won't tolerate is having to watch him fail, struggle, and train to get out of that prison; it was literally the first movie all over again.

Then there's Nolan's commitment to keeping the film grounded in reality. That's funny, I can't recall the last time I went to the nearest city and saw someone flying around a fucking space ship like Batman does in this film. It's okay, though. Whatever sense of realism this film had is tossed out the window when the moment some environmental air-cleaning machine that somehow gets turned into a bomb comes into play. (I'm a little fuzzy on specific plot details; I spent the majority of my viewing contemplating the existence of God; I concluded that if there really was a god, I wouldn't have had to sit through this shit!)

Tom Hardy doing his usual: looking
pretty and acting like shit.

Who, you may ask, is turning air filters into bombs? Why, that would be Bane (Tom Hardy), this super muscular dude who pops out of nowhere to start shit. However, you didn't hear his plan to make these bombs from him, because you can't even understand what the fuck he's saying. You see, something's wrong with him, so he has this magical gas mask that alleviates some intense pain (yet another example of Nolan's uncanny ability to replicate the real world in his films.) Anyway, this mask prevents him from speaking clearly, so any scene he's in, he's usually making a bunch of raspy noises while grasping his lapel.

So while Batman is being useless as all fuck, rotting in a prison somewhere in the Middle East ("like, such as The Iraq"), Bane takes over all of Gotham City, blows up some bridges, releases some rapists and serial killers from prison, and generally just raises hell. Oh, and he makes that bomb I was talking about. I think he also robs a bank. Don't remember. I also don't remember why he's doing all this. I'm not sure if I ever knew to begin with. Like I said, he's pretty hard to understand.

However, the real fuckery starts when Catwoman (Anne Hathaway) rears her obnoxious head. The character is never actually referred to as Catwoman in the film itself; rather, she is called Selina Kyle. That make's sense, though. Space ships, air-cleaning bombs, and magical gas masks are totally fine, but a sociopathic jewel thief who calls herself Catwoman? That just crosses the line. The biggest problem here is the decision to cast Anne Hathaway. I've never been able to enjoy this bitch in anything other than The Princess Diaries, yet she insists on being in everything. I'm surprised she hasn't filmbombed the Twilight series yet.

Damn it, Anne! Go back to Genovia.

Casting aside, the "Not Catwoman" Catwoman character is one of the biggest cunts to hit the streets of Gotham City. Everything she says oozes with an "I'm a witty bitch and I'm ten times better than you" attitude. I usually live, love, and learn from these kinds of characters, but something about Catwoman just doesn't sit right with me. Is it the fact that she wears goggles that vaguely resemble cat ears when atop her head? Or is it the time when the aforementioned bomb is about to blow up the entire fucking city and she decides it's a good idea to make-out with Batman, who's trying to save all their asses? Perhaps it's her pathological role-playing?

No, I think my "okay, bitch" moment came when Catwoman is arrested and getting perp walked to her cell. When a male prisoner reaches out to touch her, she grabs his hand and does some acrobatic flip to twist his wrist. And the fucking prison guards just stand there and say "Oh, she'll be just fine here!" *Wink* *Cue laugh track* Like what the ever-loving fuck is this shit? You just let this crazy bitch flip around the prison and chalk it up to "She's just being Selina!"? I hate her.

Believe it or not, I've only begun to address my grievances with this monstrosity of a film. I also took issue with the annoying cop (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) that runs around and becomes Robin or something like that, as well as with that random ass bitch who's just kind of there (Marion Cotillard). Alas, these problems aren't even worth getting into. I think the issues I explored in greater detail more than illustrate what a disastrous clusterfuck this film was. All I can say is thank the heavens there won't be a fourth one!

When Good Shows Become Steaming Piles of Unwatchable Shit: An Open Letter to Gossip Girl Showrunners

A pretty cast can only do so much when the show starts to suck ass.

Dear Gossip Girl so-called writers,

FUCK YOU.

Granted, I've only been an avid Gossip Girl fan for about two years now, but I have some serious grievances to address. But let us delve into some history first, shall we? I binge-watched the first four seasons in a few short months and fell head-over-heels in love. It had everything I stand for: beautiful and rich teenagers living like mini-adults and constantly getting into fights that usually stem from love triangles or the hunger for power in a rigid high school hierarchy.

Damn it, Vanessa. We all hate you!

For a good chunk of my life, I neglected social plans, academic obligations, and other duties to catch up on all the juicy twists and turns in the lives of the Upper East Side clique. Even though I found some decisions the show's writers made questionable, I stuck with it. I sucked it up when Vanessa Abrams (Jessica Szohr) came out of fucking nowhere, seemingly for the sole purpose of annoying the shit out of everyone. I got over the monotonous drama of Blair and Chuck's (Leighton Meester and Ed Westwick, respectively) relationship, which was more on-and-off than Mariah Carey's weight. I accepted that Serena (Blake Lively) was basically just going to sit around and do nothing for seasons on end, much like the actress who plays her. I DGAFed when Nate's (Chace Crawford) only function became dating women who turn out to be major cunts. I didn't complain when Blair seemed to find a new royal to date every five seconds, nor did I throw a fit when Jenny (Taylor Momsen) started looking like a raccoon prostitute. I resisted copious eye rolling when there was an entire "Let's Kill Serena" conspiracy, headed by Melrose Place leftover Katie Cassidy. I even stifled my vomit when Dan (Penn Badgley) deemed Vanessa a worthy fuck. All of this and other such messes were a-okay for the first four seasons.

Then came the fifth season, which shall know be known as the Unspeakable Aberration. This miscarriage of entertainment saw innumerable story lines that exemplify the writers' fading creativity and general incompetence. Let's start with the fact that every single character decides, not explicitly so, that they were going to stop attending college. Then Nate, who can't be older than 20, takes over a fucking newspaper with no journalistic experience. Meanwhile, Dan was off somewhere becoming a world renowned author, also at the ripe age of 19 or 20. But none of this compares to Blair, who's about to marry a prince and become fucking European royalty. But wait, she still loves Chuck. And also Dan. So, rather than get her shit together, she sluts it up for half a season, becomes a pious Bible thumper for an episode and a half, and then resumes her role as a three-timing skank. It was the first time that I actually preferred Serena over Blair. But don't worry, that went out the window when Serena tricked Dan into cheating on Blair with her and then fell back on her cocaine habit. All the while, a con artist with a serious case of smoker's voice named Ivy Dickens (Kaylee DeFer) wastes our time masquerading as Serena's cousin, Charlie Rhodes. The real Charlotte Rhodes (Ella Rae Peck) shows up later and shit ensues. However, the award for Biggest "What the Ever Loving Fuck" Moment goes to when Chuck's father, Bart, turns up alive three years after the audience saw him die in a hospital.

It's sad when you long for the days
when this bitch was still crawling
around the Upper East Side.

Gossip Girl will begin its shortened sixth and final season next Monday with only a fraction of its once impressive audience. (Well, impressive for CW standards.) Many of my fellow GG fans jumped ship during Blair's aforementioned religious awakening. I stayed with the show, mostly due to my compulsive inability to abandon a series no matter how rank it gets. But let me tell you, I don't know if even I'll make it through the final ten episodes. What do we have in store for us? Dan, who began the fifth season with the publication of his scandalous book, will begin the sixth season with the publication of another scandalous book. Cool. I'm loving the creativity, versatility, and character arc development behind that decision. Meanwhile, Blair and Chuck will team up to take down Bart. Shouldn't be hard, since he's supposed to be dead and all. Serena will be in a coked-up state of irresponsibility and self-absorption, which is a refreshing departure from her usual sober state of irresponsibility and self-absorption. I'm not really sure what Nate will be up to, because I barely remember anything he's done since the first season.

So, in conclusion, Gossip Girl is just not a thing anymore. Cheers to the wonderful showrunners for mishandling a once-marvelous series, murdering its allure, beating it afterwards, burying it far below ground, and then digging up its corpse and letting it decompose in plain sight.

XOXO,
A so-called fan

Glee's Britney Spears Tribute: Britney 2.0? More Like Britney 2.No Thank You!

It's Britney, bitch.

Britney Spears evokes many different connotations, from queen of pop to mentally unstable hasbeen and everything in between. But to me, the legendary Miss Britney Spears means only one thing: God. That is why I was so incredibly appalled by Glee's latest tribute episode to the pop star.

The episode, entitled "Britney 2.0", focuses on Brittany (Heather Morris) losing her way and subsequently attempting to make a comeback, much like her idol Britney Spears. The episode's plotline paralleled Britney's highly publicized breakdown and included jabs at the infamous head-shaving incident and disastrous 2007 MTV Video Music Awards performance, among other gems from Britney's colorful past in the limelight. They made a complete mockery of her, taking cheap and easy shots at the lowest point in her life all the while failing to express the fragility, confusion, and vulnerability the singer was experiencing at the time.

As if that wasn't enough, the episode featured eight of Britney's hits, and only three of them were done well. Morris completely butchered "Gimme More" and "Hold It Against Me" by trying to replicate Britney's sound rather than make the songs her own. The result is one not unlike karaoke day at your local middle school. The acoustic rendition of "3" had potential until Tina (Jenna Ushkowitz) opened her mouth and decided not to hit a single note. She also tainted "Womanizer" with her vocals for absolutely no apparent reason other than to piss off anyone with ears. Show of hands: who actually wanted to hear Tina sing? Yeah, I didn't think so. She can stay silent in the background where she belongs.

Perhaps the most heinous performance was "Everytime", my personal Britney favorite. The song was performed by newbie Marly Rose (Melissa Benoist), who sings the lamenting ballad after ending a relationship with another new character that literally lasted half an episode. Why, please, was my favorite song wasted on a plotline about two characters I don't give a flying fuck about? What's worse is Benoist has absolutely no talent or conviction and is totally boring to watch and listen to. As far as I'm concerned, that Lea Michele wannabe bitch can sway in the background with Tina.

Luckily, the episode was somewhat redeemed with its covers of "Boys" and "(You Drive Me) Crazy", which were mashed up to unexpectedly great results with Justin Bieber's "Boyfriend" and Aerosmith's "Crazy", respectively. But the best performance, hands down, was the slinky rendition of "Oops! I Did It Again", performed by the always enjoyable Lea Michele, whom I commend for reminding everyone that you don't have to be pretty to be sexy! As a matter of fact, I've been listening to that shit on repeat while writing this. Watch the performance below and judge for yourself. If you didn't enjoy it, you didn't watch it right.

Maybe I'm being a little harsh, but Glee's egregious tribute to Britney wouldn't have been so problematic had it been the first tribute episode to Britney the show completely fucked up. Back in 2010, there was an episode entitled "Britney/Brittany", which was all about the Brittany character seeking inspiration from Britney. This episode benefited from Britney's involvement, who made various cameos hollering all over the screen and whatnot, and basically kissed her ass, which I appreciated. However, when they only performed five songs from Britney's extensive catalog (including "Me Against the Music" ... WTF?!) and decided to end the episode with Paramore's "Only Exception", I flipped a bitch. Who the FUCK wants to hear a Paramore song in a Britney-themed episode? Who the fuck wants to hear a Paramore song, period? "Not I," said basically everyone who saw the episode.

At the end of the day, Glee has really fallen by the wayside and is only a pale version of witty, charming beast it once was. Now, the franchise is overexposed and its audience is shrinking. The show can't afford to rip on people like Britney, especially not twice. Obviously, this is a sensitive topic for me, but I think my thoughts can be summed up best by Britney Spears herself.

Bravo! Couldn't have said it better myself.