Miley, the latest version of the Virus

I’ve come to this pop culture party very late, but I want to weigh in on the debate about what is wrong with Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball mini fillum. It sucks. And not because she’s writhing around licking a hammer, although that is wrong because she’s not at a hardware store. No, it’s because it’s all been done. To death. At the risk of sounding like an old ‘back in my day, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Madonna got her boobs out for the 24th time’ fart, it’s tired. I’m from the if you’ve seen one pair of boobs you’ve seen ’em all school of feminism so I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about Miley’s naked body, but Miley’s clip is creepy.

Old, balding tosser dribbles over young girl and tells her the storyline for her clip is provocative, original and daring. My flesh crawled when I googled the man’s name. He is 48 and a know pervert according to Doctor Wikipedia. Women 40 + are used to this kind of boring; male directors who don’t think they have to push their female star to actually act or perform or take us on an emotional journey because she is pretty, this style of ‘directing’ has been around as long as film (watch Rose Byrne in Two Hands or Angelina Jolie in most of her movies if you don’t believe me). No Miley, as cute as you are, flashing flesh is not enough, I want a storyline too. Copying Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares To You video and faking the tears shames you as an actor, and the fact that a director’s cut exists says it all. I think you’ve been manipulated by a wanker who thinks he’s an artist. And that is very sad.