Hit Me Baby One more Time - Upside yo' head

So, tonight, whilst abandoned by my family for some insufferable function which involved a lot of other jews being rather Jewish and quietly kvetching over a wedding, and myself being abandoned due to lack of a decent suit (it's in an envelope in Cambridge.... long story) I found myself channel-surfing until I came across this legend on BBC3:

Britney Spears Saved my Life

Wow. I mean, I love a good sensationalist title as much as the next person. Certain titles just make you stop and want to watch with some sort of morbid fascination as to what might come next. Titles include: 'Can Fat Teens Hunt?'.... the implication being if they can't they'll die, which would be amusing in some way, 'Two-tonne Man'... sensing a theme yet? 'Kirsten's Topless Ambition' in which some ex-CBBC lady I remember showing me how to draw motion blurs when I was 8 and loved cartooning considers getting her baps out etc etc. Deep stuff. It's like that one chip left on the plate, I know it's bad for me and damn I know I'm full but I want it, if only to see if it's like the others.

I do genuinely believe that whoever made this programme (a chap named Vikram Jayanti or so I am told) did so with good intentions, he has an impressive track record and in the article he wrote for the Guardian seems genuinely to have been touched by the people he met and the experiences he recorded despite being something of a Britney-sceptic. He makes it clear he doesn't want to take the piss out of fans but rather see the grip the current Princess of pop (well, until Lady GaGa goes at her with a machete... don't mock, it'll happen!) has over her legions of fans who have defended her through it all, even her Elmer Fudd lookalike phase.

I wanted to mention that because it's important. Important in that, although this is the aim of inviting 300 megafans to dress as schoolgirls and wobble to 'Baby One More Time' whilst getting some increasingly tragic life stories on the way, it really doesn't seem that way when you're watching it. Yes, it's all meant to be, as Jayanti says, a bit ironic and the title is meant to attract the lecherous viewer but without an almost pre-ordained level of smuggery, this is not some sort of pop-cult revelation where we see a fan's relationship with the artist for what it really is, rather it ends up being the freak-show it tried to avoid being in the first place. Fans leer at the camera, sing their favourite bits, show you their collections and tattoos... comfortable viewing it is not. It's like drinking undiluted Smash Hits, passing out and then waking up during some bad Drag-Queen tribute complete with red leather catsuits, pigtails and snakes.

Throughout infrequent clips of the Britneyites queuing, learning choreography, getting dressed as schoolgirls and then finally celebrating their idol in the most misjudged dance routine since the Nepalese prisoners did Thriller(... no wait, that was actually awesome) we're invited to learn a bit about their lives. Each little segment has a similar narrative, 'This is my Britney shrine, here's my fave song... please watch me listen to it whilst I stare at the camera like there are sweeties inside, this is what Britney means to me, here is my hideous personal sob story that I have somehow related to Britney'. Divorce, coming-out, self-confidence, cancer... these are all big personal deals at play that deserve a damn sight more respect than being secondary to Britney. One of the more tragic elements of this is how the fans croon over how Britney was controlled and all-American and now she's free, something that they wish to emulate. The sad part is that even sexed up and lip-syncing her way around the globe, Britney is just as controlled as ever. False Idol worship at its worst.

At its core what this show wants you to take away is that music helps people, it takes them to a place and that can mean a lot to people; lord knows in bad times I have Joni Mitchell and Aimee Mann on constantly. What it needs to say is that the message of the lyrics do not mean that the wordsmith will save you. Hell, if you did that this would be called 'Max Martin' saved my life.

Sorry but if I see a sensationalist title and then a parade of fans with sob stories I become more, not less cynical about the subject matter. Lordy I do wish the reverse was true here but sadly I don't feel the heart that I do recognise has gone into this.