When will she just grow up already?
By JOHN DOYLE
jdoyle@globeandmail.com
Tuesday, January 29, 2008 – Print Edition, Page R3
Oh Avril Lavigne, pride of Napanee, Ont., where did it all go wrong?
It seems like it was just the other day that he was a Sk8er Boi and the other girl was a preppy, and then he became a big rock star and the preppy girl was mortified and Avril was the rock star's girlfriend and everything worked out. It worked out 'cos Avril was dancing on a car with all these other people dancing around her and being really jealous 'cos Avril was wearing, like, some guy's necktie over her T-shirt and they hadn't thought of that.
And then, dear heart, Avril Lavigne, pride of Napanee, it got so complicated. Why'd ya have to go and do that?
Allegations that you were just a record-company created anti-Britney, a thing made in a Petri dish by marketers and mysterious professional songwriters. Allegations of plagiarism and then lawyer's letters, and poor Chantal Kreviazuk retracting everything she said about you. And then the dumb-as-a-plank spitting and swearing at photographers and people who just wanted your autograph. Did you really have to sign eff-you instead of signing your name? Did you really have to go to the same club two nights in a row and spit at paparazzi? The apologies came later, too later. Why did ya have to go and act like you're somebody else? Why did ya have to go and make it all so very complicated?
Whatever. I'm going to stop addressing questions to the pride of Napanee now and just give you the gist of a much-promoted thing airing tonight.
Avril in Mexico (MTV Canada, 9 p.m.) is an illuminating chronicle of the charm-less little Lavigne's trip to Mexico for the MTV Latin Awards and to do some shows. It features a great deal of grotesquely compelling moments of Lavigne in her limo, Lavigne in her hotel room, Lavigne onstage and Lavigne complaining about the burden of being a star.
If one thing gets Lavigne angry - there's no spitting, mind you - it's having to, like, pose for those pesky photographers. In one early scene, she's obliged to appear briefly on a stage next to some award and be photographed. As she makes clear, it's supposed to be only for a minute but those photographers want her to do it for, like, three minutes. This is unbearable. One minute is enough. Why? Well, as Lavigne explains, it's the physical pain of smiling for the cameras: "My mouth hurts and this feels weird." Maybe that's why she sometimes spits at photographers - her mouth just hurts so, from the smiling! Lavigne's mom is along for the ride and is often seen smiling benignly at her self-absorbed, inarticulate, incredibly rich brat of a daughter. Mom rarely says anything, but at one point appears to mutter that she's proud of her daughter. God bless her. A mother's love is a profound and unfathomable thing.
One long sequence involves Lavigne taking her band out for dinner. See, she doesn't, like, get to see them much so it's, like, really great if they can have a meal together sometimes. An enormous fuss is made about the worms and other critters on the menu. Lavigne swears a good deal as she tries to avoid, like, barfing all the time at the thought of those worms. Eventually she, like, swallows one.
Lavigne swears a lot on her Mexico trip. It's f-this and f-that. And, oddly, although she says all the usual things about how great her fans are, she also seems simultaneously frightened and contemptuous of them. On her way to some event, she alights from the minivan and stops to wave briefly at the hundreds of fans who are behind barricades. Then it appears that some of them have breached the perimeter and are on their way to actually make contact with her. She squeals, panics and runs. A little later, she's describing the incident to her handlers and does an ohmigawd-I-just-freaked thing about "these [expletive] kids who started running and charging," trying getting near her. Mind you, she also says that having people screaming her name is, "like, the coolest thing ever."
Avril Lavigne is 23½ years old.
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