Saturday, February 2
I arrive at the local multiplex for a 5:00 p.m. showing of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds Concert on its opening weekend. I briefly considered just how the hell I managed to get myself into this mess — starting to believe my fearless leader could charm the panties off a nun to have talked me into it, before pouring a couple of pocket shots of spiced rum (many thanks to the Boozehound!) into a 20-oz. bottle of Coke Zero. Well, you didn’t expect me to go into this completely unarmed, did you?
Trudge past hordes of parents and kids staggering towards the theater like zombies from Night of the Living Dead. Inside, I picked up my pre-ordered ticket from the ticket counter, from the same kid I snapped at for not letting me in the day before when I drove to the theater to get my ticket early in the middle of a damn monsoon but got there 20 minutes before the theater opened. I swear that prick smirked at me when I gave him my confirmation. Cram it, fattie.
OK, now this is just fucking INSANE! It takes forever to find the end of the massive, twisting line encompassing the entire concessions area and winding back into the theater hallways. So much for my plan of arriving early. There were people already lined up for the 5:30 show, for chrissakes! What are they lined up for? You already have a ticket, obviously. It’s not like you’re not going to get in. Whatever. I find myself surrounded by more children than I have ever seen in my entire life. I can’t even begin to guess the median age of the kids, but they were pretty young I figure, since I started going to the movies by myself around age 12 and most of the kids were accompanied by exasperated looking adults.
The agoraphobia was starting to kick in. Childrens to the left of me! Childrens to the right! One of the mothers nearby motioned towards a sign for 27 Dresses and said that she wanted to see it. Another called over and interjected, “It’s an adorable movie! Very cute.” Hee.
Fuh-inally, after what seems like years, the powers that be let the massive, bloodthirsty crowd file into the theater. As I handed over my ticket, I was helpfully given a pair of 3-D glasses — because, yeah, bitches! This mothereff is in 3-D!
Inconspicuously, I chose a seat all the way in the back of the theater, making immediate friends with a of couple mothers sitting next to me. Mother #1 bitched to me about the cost of the tickets ($17!!) and I wholeheartedly agreed. Disney is evil. Sure, maybe it’s no sweat for a 30-year-old with the leisure of disposable income, but I can’t imagine the assfucking this is for middle-class families that have to shell out in excess of 50 or 60 bucks to take their kids to a damn movie. Not to mention the generous window of one week this thing runs at the box office, so better get there quick before you can’t ever again! Bastards.
Previews. Something with Martin Lawrence, Raven Simone and Donny Osmond taking a road trip together, highlighting all the hilarious ways that black people and white people don’t “get” each other. Another preview is for an upcoming 3-D flick with Brendan “Hair Club for Men” Fraser, which the kids seem to get a real kick out of. OK I’ve got to admit, kids gasping at 3-D effects is a little bit cute.
Now for our featured presentation — and it’s about goddamn time! The film opens to Hannah Montana singing some song about being a rock star. Maybe it was the booze talking, but the whole thing struck me as so ridiculous I couldn’t help giggling through the first song. First of all, to clear up the confusion: Hannah Montana wears a blonde wig and Miley Cyrus has brown hair. They’re the same person, but they’re totally different! See? It really is best of both worlds! You get the girl with the wig and the girl without the wig! Because she changes personas halfway through the show! But you know, I can actually kind of see why the kids like her so much. She is rather charming and fabulous for a 15 year old. Even a huge curmudgeon like myself couldn’t bring myself to completely hate her, despite the flack I give her over at Webster’s. In fact, I’ll even go as far to say that Miley and I have some things in common — we could totally be sisters! Or not. Like, she wears converse high tops too! Just like me! And she also cracks her neck! And I bet in a few years, (if not sooner) she’ll make a lot of really, really bad decisions, which I had the good fortune of not having documented for the entire world to see! But at least it was a good run while it lasted.
Moving on. Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds was comprised of mostly of footage from a Hannah/Miley concert spliced in with backstage clips, gratuitous costume changes, painfully choreographed “candid” moments between Miley and her entourage/family, and fan interviews in between songs. The songs were more or less generic and blandly catchy, but as a pop aficionado, I didn’t even find them particularly offensive on the ears. So luckily, for the sake of this review, “The Jonas Brothers,” also on tour with Miley, made an appearance. And boy, are these guys a bunch of Grade A turds. I guess they’re like the Hanson of this generation? Only with like a fraction of the talent and charisma, with Jew-fros in place of Hanson’s silky, flaxen girl-hair. The Jonas Brothers seem to excel at little other than flouncing about the stage melodramatically in their “Solid Gold” jackets and pencil ties — grabbing unseen tweeners hearts out of the air and pulling them close into their scrawny little not-yet-man chests. But it was the hardest I’ve laughed in a movie theater in a long time — so, thank you for that, Brothers of Jonas.
The biggest disappointment of this whole thing was how well behaved the kids were. I expected this review to be as much a social experiment as an assessment of the film, and the only screaming were from the little girls on screen. Where the hell is the fun in that?! I was prepared for ravenous, shrieking girls, and that’s what I wanted, dammit! At least the mothers sitting next to me were game, and got up and danced a few times throughout the film to purposely humiliate their respective tweeners. As a whole, the experience of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds was actually was not as bad as I was expecting. Although, when you’re expecting the worst, really the only way to go is up. Like when you groggily wake up from a night of heavy drinking, and find to your pleasant surprise that not only did you not lose your cell phone or puke all over your bathroom, but you didn’t even spend all of your money! Sure, you’ve got a hangover with a splitting headache and a minor case of the trots, but at least there’s no stranger in your bed. And I guess when it comes down to it, the “Hannah Montana” experience truly could have been worse than a minor case of the trots. And that ain’t so bad.
Stacey Nosek is the world’s most articulate idiot, and a television columnist for Pajiba. You can also find her ripping on celebrities at Webster’s Is My Bitch.
Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus: Best of Both Worlds / Stacey Nosek
Film Reviews | February 4, 2008 | Comments ()