Smiley Face | Is this a photo of Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana, or some other girl whom nobody has even met?
It’s old news now, and I hate to harp on Vanity Fair yet again (you might get the idea that I actually read Vanity Fair), but here we have yet another teenybopper pop icon with a now complexly sullied reputation thanks to the Annie Leibovitz photos of Miley Cyrus that are running in the glossy magazine’s current issue.
Hannah Montana—Cyrus’ popstar alter ego on TV as well as real life—is such a multifaceted phenomenon it’s difficult to disentangle the who from the what. On one hand, Hannah/Miley isn’t even a person; on the other she is.
I’m sure SEE readers aren’t losing sleeping over the complexities of Miss Cyrus’ various identities; however, allow me to briefly explain what Hannah Montana is. (Confession: I needed my seven-year-old to explain it to me. And for what it’s worth, she thinks the Leibovitz photos are not the least bit inappropriate.)
Cyrus is the daughter of the “Achy Breaky Heart” guy, Billy Ray Cyrus. She began her career working with her father on his erstwhile television show Doc. Billy Ray was later cast alongside his daughter on her own television show Hannah Montana—as her father. Miss Cyrus has spent her entire young life playing a version of herself, already convoluting the very idea of stable identity.
On Hannah Montana, Cyrus plays “Miley,” a normal brunette by day who dons a blonde wig and transforms into popstar Hannah Montana by night. The same doubleness exists in real life: Cyrus tours nonstop as “Hannah Montana” in sold-out arena concerts across the country. Her recent IMAX concert film will give an idea of how massive the Hannah Montana phenomenon is; I haven’t seen it, but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess it’s no Don’t Look Back.
Cyrus is anything but an ordinary 15 year-old; she isn’t even “real.” Perhaps that’s what is so alarming about the Leibovitz photo. The very thought of Cyrus as an actual young lady may lie at the very heart of the controversy. The photo is frighteningly ambiguous; it is vaguely sexual but not trashy. And yet, I can’t help but ponder the whereabouts of the girl’s pyjamas—I’m 29 and I wear pyjamas. Cyrus, posed to appear completely nude (I’m going to go with “nude” rather than “naked”), gently clutches a silky sheet around her torso as though newly awakened from a delicate slumber. Her nubile, fair young back is completely exposed. She appears comfortable in her skin and comfortable as herself—whoever she may be.
I’d like to think Leibovitz aimed to capture the “essence” of Cyrus, with all her various personas stripped away. This is not a photo of Hannah Montana, nor is it a photo of “Miley Cyrus” the character. Minus her blonde locks and Disney-approved bubblegum image, she is strikingly beautiful. The photo intrigues because it is not a glamour shot. Cyrus could easily have been presented all sexed up. Yet, Leibovitz boldly exposes the young lady lurking beneath all her schizophrenically fabricated identities, and suggests there just might be a real person under there after all. Scandalous indeed!
