![]() (If I could go back in time, I would do the same, and I’m Jewish.) This explosive bombshell-Spears tends to treat every dumbass idea Federline puts forth like a profound spiritual revelation from a modern-day prophet-affects Spears deeply on a mental and physical level. If Spears could travel back in time, I reckon, she’d probably prevent herself from ever encountering Federline, fuck that “killing Hitler” shit. The clip ends with Federline, in a voice rich with unearned self-congratulation, arguing that if scientists had invented time-travel, they wouldn’t tell anyone because then everyone would want to go back in time and change shit. When Federline assures her that they can’t, Spears says that maybe they can but haven’t quite gotten around to telling her yet. With heartbreaking and hilarious earnestness, she asks Federline if he’s seen Back To The Future and consequently can tell her conclusively whether people can actually time-travel in real life. Then the conversation starts to get a little strange and Spears’ behavior becomes a little questionable. When Federline tells Spears she might feel like she’s missing out on life “because of all the partying” (probable code for “all the drugs we’ve been using”), Spears blurts out a defensive, “huh” and becomes instantly angry, hurt, and defensive. For all its ostensible glamour, Spears’ life, as documented in Chaotic, is largely an incredibly sad, lonely, narcissistic bubble of interchangeable live performances and bus rides, plane rides, television appearances, and empty, meaningless conversations with people paid to tolerate her and, even worse, the controlling and manipulative Federline. ![]() When Spears says she’s been “missing out on life,” it’s hard not to agree with her. The clip seesaws manically between comedy and tragedy, between unintentional humor and aching, agonizing sadness. How could Federline have seen that movie four months ago? Is he a time-traveler or a shape-shifter of some sort? Is there no limit to his unholy powers? ![]() In her fragile, distorted headspace, that information alone seems to rip a hole in the time-space continuum that must be addressed. When Federline tells Spears he watched Spun four months ago, she clearly doesn’t know how to process such mind-blowing information. But even that fragment of a thought becomes hopelessly confused: She becomes incredibly agitated when Federline tells her it’s already on DVD and might even be on their tour bus-given Spears and Federline’s mental state, it’s entirely possible they may have just actually watched Spun-and insists Federline is lying. She whipsaws from moony absentmindedness to inexplicable aggravation when she suspects Federline is zooming in on her-because that would be disturbing and wrong, not a man sadistically capturing, for posterity, his ostensible soulmate in a pathetic, desperate state of drugged-up confusion for all the world to see-while complaining nonsensically, “Why you looking through the peephole? You’re acting like a cameraman! Stop looking through the peephole”įinally, Spears heroically manages to align the misfiring synapses in her brain into something resembling a coherent thought-she really, really wants to see the crystal-meth-themed dark comedy Spun. She struggles to collect her scattered thoughts. She rubs her foot ecstatically and asks, with offhanded, unintentional pathos, “Mama, see what you passed down to me?” She belches and giggles. She asks Federline if he’s had butterbeans. But no clip is more horrifying, revealing, or unfortunately representative of the true nature of Spears and Federline’s toxic bond than this clip from what the DVD cheerily refers to as “never-before-seen footage from Britney and Kevin’s home movies.” In it, Spears-wearing a wife-beater, sweatpants, and T-shirt bearing the words “part-time lover/full time hater,” gloriously/sadly enough-stares vacantly and glassy-eyed into Kevin Federline’s uncomfortably voyeuristic camcorder in what clearly appears to be a coke-, ecstasy-, or speed-induced haze and complains, “I’m ugly” and then, “my jaw hurts” before murmuring sub-verbally and complaining that she’s been grinding her teeth relentlessly because she’s “nervous” before confessing that she’s not really nervous at all.Ī clearly addled Spears is unable to hold on to a thought for longer than a few seconds. In its inexplicably televised form-airing Britney & Kevin: Chaotic should have been beneath the dignity of the network that gave the world The Secret Diary Of Desmond Pfeiffer, Shasta McNasty, and Homeboys In Outer Space-the show was unrelentingly and unwittingly damning in its depiction of Spears and Federline’s relationship.
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