The Magic Number: Fantasy and Liberation in Britney Spears' Music Video "3"

In this essay I offer my reading of the director's cut of Britney Spears' music video "3" (Diane Martel, 2009) and explain how, like the cinema of David Lynch, I believe it offers a radical vision of liberation through fantasy. In fact, "3" is more politically effective than Lynch's films precisely because, as a chart-topping smash that has been played endlessly on MTV and VH1, it is able to deliver its emancipatory message to a much wider audience in a far more accessible manner. Ultimately, it is videos like "3" that may actually have a chance of achieving Lynch's own stated goal of "14-year old girls...going down the tree-lined streets of the Midwest" embracing the joys and freedom of self-actualization.

It is impossible to interpret any of Britney Spears' work without acknowledging the global celebrity icon she represents; Britney is arguably the objectified sex symbol of patriarchal white supremacist capitalism in the 21st century. However, Britney's personal trials and tribulations a few years back, most notably her highly publicized psychological, family, and romantic issues, have had a profound impact on her image, making Britney's role in pop culture today much more ambiguous. Certainly "not a girl" anymore, the new adult Britney (exemplified by "3" and another of her recent music videos, "If U Seek Amy") seems to embody a self-awareness and self-confidence that is far more challenging of the hegemonic social order than when she was simply a "slave 4 u." A poignant example of this is the 2008 MTV documentary "For the Record", where Britney openly discusses her imprisonment, both physically and metaphysically, by the alienation our society (particularly its "cult of celebrity") engenders.

While mainstream critics took note of the more superficial elements of "3," including the renewed "conviction" in Britney's look, performance, and style, they ignored the video's significance within the broader context of her biography. For me, "3" is not "simply dancing in front of white and gray backgrounds," but rather a visual depiction of Britney cathartically breaking free from her existential entrapment. In order to make this kind of interpretive leap, however, it is necessary to analyze "3" using a "Lynchian" framework.

"3," like Lynch's movies, visually separates the dueling worlds of desire and fantasy that structure our consciousness. Desire can best be described as the compulsive, empty, and unfulfilling sphere of existence that we normally call "reality," while fantasy is the necessary alternate dimension that allows us to psychically overcome the depravity of desire. A classic Lynchian example of the distinction between these two spheres of reality is "Mulholland Drive," where a struggling actress named Dianne, romantically spurned by her lover Camila and left to suffer alone in the world of desire, constructs an elaborate fantasy in which she is not only a budding Hollywood starlet, but able to consummate her love to Camila in a successful sexual relationship (the ultimate wish fulfillment, according to Lacan, precisely because of its impossibility).

What makes "Lynchian" works like "3" so radical and unique is that they compel the viewer to completely "abandon ourselves" and "fully immerse" in fantasy, as opposed to standard Hollywood films which "do not go far enough." Indeed, while mainstream cinema lures the viewer with the promise of fantasy (hence Hollywood's reputation as a "dream factory"), it ultimately produces only a relatively tame derivative of the "real world" of desire. "Lynchian" cinema, on the other hand, offers us a glimpse at the liberating consequences of taking fantasy "to its endpoint." It is by following "the yellow brick road" all the way [The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) is a major inspiration for Lynch] that "Lynchian" art truly takes us "somewhere over the rainbow." In "3," Britney does just this, jumping "through the looking glass" and, in so doing, launching herself on a phantasmatic voyage in which she is ultimately able to transcend her confinement.

In the opening sequence of "3," we see a shot of Britney holding her hair up and posing, staring into the camera as if looking at herself in a vanity mirror. This is followed by a close-up shot of a perfume bottle from Britney's own, aptly titled, "Fantasy" line; a gum-chewing Britney is blurred-out in the background, applying mascara with the help of a compact mirror. The camera's focus eventually switches to foreground Britney. Then we have another cut to the first Britney primping her hair, with the camera once again doubling as a mirror into which she peers. And finally, we have a second shot of the "Fantasy" perfume bottle, this time as it lies on the table next to the closed-up compact mirror with a blurred-out Britney seated behind the table in the background; after a noticeable pause, Britney is foregrounded reaching for the bottle, applying a squirt of perfume to the underside of her forearm, and then several more squirts to the base of her neck, with the song finally cuing up after the final squirt has been applied.

The point of this sequence, in my opinion, is to set up the opposing worlds of desire and fantasy that structure the entire video. In particular, the match cut between the first two Britneys are clearly setting up identity doubles that serve as reflections of one another. Britney #1, the pristine model in the camera-mirror, is a visual representation of Britney's initial foray into fantasy, while Britney #2, the pop starlet engaging in the relatively mundane activities of chewing gum, applying make-up, and squirting perfume, symbolizes the vacuous world of desire. It is the emptiness of Britney #2's reality that triggers the need for fantasy, and hence the creation of Britney #1. Indeed, the realm of desire is so de-humanizing for Britney #2 that, in these shots, a dead material object (i.e., the perfume bottle) takes centerstage over her living, breathing presence.

This opening sequence also introduces the all-important issue of patriarchy through the use of mirrors and silence. Both Britneys are consumed with their appearance as it is reflected in mirrors, a common motif in visual art symbolizing the patriarchal demand that women diligently survey themselves, especially as objects of the male gaze. As John Berger describes in Ways of Seeing, within our patriarchal social order a woman's value has been largely determined by "how she appears to others, and ultimately how she appears to men." The shots of both Britneys are also completely devoid of sound, symbolizing the way that patriarchy attempts to silence women. Not only do both Britneys in this opening sequence have no voice, but they seem to lack any sensuous existence at all, for it is only when Britney #2 has scented her total-absence-of-being with perfume that she begins to have an embodied presence, signified by the interjection of the song's opening notes as soon as the last squirt of perfume has been applied.

In the shots that follow the video's opening sequence, the realm of fantasy begins to take over, as we no longer see Britney #2 and are instead introduced to a series of additional Britney #1's. In fact, the fantasy realm of Britney #1 appears now to have been split into what Lucy Fischer has chronicled as the binary of women's identity in a patriarchal society: on the one hand, the "innocent virgin,"and on the other, the "sexual temptress." The "virginal" Britney is the same Britney #1 from the opening sequence, always shot from the neck-up, coyly fiddling with her hair, and turning away from the camera when the song's simulated sexual moan makes its first sonic appearance. This "pristine" version of Britney #1, however, is now juxtaposed with a multitude of other fantasy Britneys who embody an exaggerated sexuality: there is "dominatrix" Britney pacing confidently in a black dress, ornately designed black heels, and intricately woven black stockings; Britney "in heat" writhing on the floor wearing a black body suit; Britney "gone wild" in a revealing one-piece white bathing suit dancing behind a steamy glass partition and gyrating beneath a horizontal pole with the help of a cadre of similarly scantily-clad female dancers; and "maneater" Britney in black leading a group of male dancers.

It is crucial here to point out that this split of Britney's fantasy reflects "not the light and dark sides of the female mind, but rather the dialectical fantasies of man" imposed on women within patriarchy. Hence it is not surprising to see Britney's fantasy itself begin to spin out of control; even though this is supposed to be her fantasy, it cannot be completely hers, since it is an alienated, hegemonic fantasy that starts to exert its own will at some point. Specifically, over the course of the first two-and-a-half minutes of the song, the various versions of "temptress" Britney are increasingly fit into a series of cliched misogynistic fantasies, including lesbianism (i.e., the women dancing with Britney begin to grope her), physical domination of women (i.e., Britney is shown being forcefully handled by a couple of male dancers), and sexual anonymity (the bikini-clad Britney and her female sidekicks don sunglasses and have their body parts objectified, while the male dancers operate within the protection of darkness). The fact that it is the "hyper-sexual" side of Britney's fantasy world that is the site of misogynistic projection makes sense, given the historical scorn patriarchy has displayed toward any feminine display of jouissance (libidinal enjoyment).

As described above, in "Lynchian" art, fantasy, when taken to its endpoint, inevitably leads to a schism with the "real world" of desire, and as such offers the only chance to truly transcend "reality." In the process, one is able to connect with "the Real" (the non-alienated underbelly of existence which we lose access to once we are socialized into the prevailing social order). This process takes place in "3," as Britney's patriarchally circumscribed fantasy goes "all the way," ultimately yielding a visual and sonic breakdown approximately two-thirds of the way into the video. Although it may seem paradoxical, it is this breakdown that actually constitutes the foundation for Britney's liberation, for it is only when the mutually opposed realms of fantasy and desire are simultaneously negated that a dialectical synthesis of them (i.e., "the Real") can take place.

To signify the onset of the breakdown sequence, video director Martel offers us a shot of Britney literally spliced in half, with her sunglasses-adorning, pole-grabbing upper torso superimposed over a fade-out shot of her "dominatrix" legs walking away from the camera and into the darkness. As the song is suddenly overcome by a euphoric sweetness reminiscent of trance melodies from the late '90s, the "virginal" fantasy Britney is shown singing the lines "What we do is innocent, Just for fun and nothing meant." Something distinctive begins to happen in this shot, however, as the chastity and coyness demanded of Britney by patriarchy is gradually replaced by a frankness and self-awareness, particularly when one remembers that the camera into which she is singing doubles as a mirror for herself. Specifically, note how the discomfort that characterizes Britney's rendition of the first line (she bobs her head, looks off to the side, etc.) contrasts sharply with her candid and direct delivery of the second line into the camera/mirror. What's more, a hint of a smile seems to form on Britney's face, indicating the sense of security she begins to feel as a result of connecting with "the Real," and reflecting the fact that the psychic breakdown she is experiencing is not nearly as problematic and scary as remaining in the identity split of patriarchal fantasy or the cavernous realm of desire.

This process of self-actualization is furthered in the next shot, where the bikini-clad fantasy Britney sings "If you don't like the company..." while making two highly exaggerated hand gestures. First and foremost, it is important to recognize that Britney is clearly singing to herself here, since she delivers the lyrics directly into the camera/mirror. Also, it is interesting to note the double-entendre of this particular song lyric, for "the company" could be construed as both the intrusion of patriarchy into Britney's fantasy as well as the capitalist corporate structures which engender and reinforce patriarchy itself (most notably, the record company that employs Britney). It is within such a context that Britney's hand gestures can be interpreted as having a dual meaning: her outstretched palms followed by clenched fists are both a warning sign to those looking through the camera (i.e., corporate/patriarchal forces) to "stay away...or else," as well as a signal to herself in the mirror to "hold on and stay strong."

Buoyed by this spirit of independence and inner strength, the breakdown sequence culminates in cathartic exaltation, as the assertive and no longer "virginal" fantasy Britney delivers the lyrics "...Let's just do it, You and me" directly into the camera/mirror with a newfound confidence and vigor. As the music builds with a flurry of bass drops and Britney's voice emphatically repeating "You and me," Martel offers us a montage of fast-cut shots of the various fantasy Britneys dancing to the proverbial beat of their own drums. The fact that none of these Britneys are dancing with anyone else is crucial here, for it reinforces the point that the lyrics are directed internally, with Britney bringing together the two parts of the patriarchal binary within which her fantasy had previously been split. In other words, the "doing it" referred to in the song's lyrics actually signifies the coming together of Britney with herself; she is reclaiming the existential whole of her being and as such, successfully rejecting patriarchy's alienation.

This process of becoming whole is most brilliantly depicted by the sudden appearance (for the first time in the video) of a dark silhouetted Britney amongst the many images in the montage. In "Lynchian" cinema, protagonists must confront their "shadow selves" in order to come to terms with "the Real." The visual inclusion of a "shadow" Britney thus symbolizes the truly radical nature of her breakdown, a rigorous introspection into the darkest (both literally and figuratively) parts of her unconscious. It is through such a confrontation with her "shadow" that Britney is able to achieve a self-actualization that is visually represented by images in the montage of her smiling whole-heartedly into the camera/mirror and gracefully relaxing her head back while seated on the floor. The point here is that by giving herself over completely to the realm of fantasy (even if that realm has been corrupted by patriarchal demands), Britney opens herself up to the possibility of psychic breakdown which, in turn, allows her to engage in profound self-rediscovery. It is by living out her own lyrics of "doing it, just her and herself" that Britney rejects the demands of patriarchy, and ultimately is able to experience the ecstasy of true jouissance.

The end of the breakdown sequence only reinforces this self-actualization. While the previously "virginal" Britney asks "Or 3?" in a way that, at first glance, appears to belie independence (i.e., she is looking away from the camera and coyly fiddling with her hair), the details of this shot reveal a different story, as the tattoo on the inner part of Britney's wrist is made visible for the first time, thus contradicting her supposed "pristine" nature. At the same time, Martel inserts a fast-cut shot of Britney lying on the floor in the fetal position caressing that part of her that has been the symbolic site of patriarchy's most ardent attempts at control and domination (i.e., the female womb). To me, this shot demonstrates that Britney has been "born-again" through her breakdown, to the extent that she is now at one with her own reproductive capacity.

Indeed, the no-longer "virginal" Britney's exaggerated sarcasm and sinister smirk when delivering the lyrics "Or 4, On the floor?" reflects a newfound sense of sexual autonomy and ironic self-confidence, a theme that is reinforced by the inclusion of more shots of "shadow" Britney (i.e., the libidinal unconscious of "the Real"). This motif of gender/sexual liberation continues throughout the rest of the video, as a montage of shots cut at the fastest tempo yet feature countless shots of the now ever-present "shadow" Britney as well as clips of various fantasy Britneys dancing amidst pronouncedly darker lighting and moving with a renewed energy. Also included in these clips are another shot of Britney's tattoo, Britney dance-kicking away the face of a groping male dancer with her high heels, and even close-up shots of the faces of Britney's female background dancers. Hence like the final scene of Lynch's "Inland Empire," "3" closes with a celebration of not only Britney's liberation through fantasy, but of women's emancipation more generally.

The video concludes with a final fade-out shot of Britney walking away into the grey shadows without accompaniment (male or female). In the end, then, Britney has made the fateful decision to fully embrace her "shadow" self, a move facilitated by the breakdown that occured as a result of her total immersion into fantasy. Because of this unrelenting commitment to leaving behind the "real world" of desire, Britney seems to have found what we are all looking for: a way out of the alienation engendered by the social order within which we live. Hence the ultimate point of "3" is the same as the point of all "Lynchian" art, namely that fantasy, when taken all the way, need not be apolitical or escapist, but rather profoundly radical and deeply subversive.