TOO TOXIC TO BE TRUE
A new Britney Spears documentary lays bare the hypocrisy of our obsession with celebrities
For over a decade, Britney Spears has had little control over her life. Her father, Jamie Spears, has been making decisions on her behalf under a court-sanctioned decree. Spears now wants to be freed and her fans are listening. Through the #FreeBritney movement, they have revved up the momentum to liberate her from the clutches of her father, who was granted conservatorship or power of attorney for her career and estate following her involuntary commitment to a psychiatric ward in 2008.
How did the much-adored popstar get to where she is today? This is the question that Framing Britney Spears, a New York Times documentary has tried to investigate, stitching together the journey of a small-town girl from Louisiana, who goes on to conquer the American consciousness, becoming, by turns, a pastime, an obsession and an embodiment of sexualised innocence.
Celebrities are used to all manner of public intrusion. Spears, though, was squeezed dry by it. As her popularity soared, tabloid and TV hounds came unleashed. Every part of her life was eaten up: her breasts, her underwear, her virginity, or lack thereof. She was made and unmade on paper and on screen. When her unravelling began, the “vulturous society”, as journalist Wesley Morris calls it, did not care for her mental health. Spears’ misery curdled into tabloid fodder.
In one shot in the film, she pleads to a mass of paparazzi: “Please don’t fight, I’m scared.” In another one, she is in her car. “Why are you so close to my car?” she asks, clearly distressed. Next, she is on a TV show answering the question: “What do you think will it take for the paparazzi to leave you alone?”
“Um,” Spears says, “I don’t know.”
“Is that one of your biggest wishes?” the host continues. Unable to control her sobs, she nods “yeah.”
The shutterbugs alone are hardly to blame. They were, after all, only one piece of the system that set her up as the perfect girl next door, before slut-shaming her to shreds.
The film forces us to look beyond the veneer of stardom at the sentient, living human who inhabits the dark alleys of that perennially venal gaze. After the documentary aired, some media representatives apologised to Spears. Today, Spears controls her narrative on Instagram; that is, if it is indeed her using the app. Fans latch on to her every post, offering love and support. They await her freedom. They want her to keep on dancin’ till the world ends. ■