I happened upon this at blockbuster the other night,and figured "what the heck!" After all, one can always turn the sound off and just watch her wiggle, yes? Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised. While I don't listen to bubble gum pop, I have to admit the show itself was great theatre. Yes, she lipsynched, but don't we expect her to? And yes, the "support the troops" bit was nauseating, but once again, it's trendy. All in all, if you've nothing better to do, give this a watch.

I'm sorry to admit that I watched this piece of crap a few weeks back when I was forced to baby sit three of my cousins who had control of the television that night. The horror show began right from the start with an introduction that made no sense. It's like I witnessed a murder from a long distance away. I really can't explain what the hell the introduction was? A lot of pretty colors and bad sound. Something about a girl ding something? It made no sense. Then to make it even worse, Britney makes an entrance that puts Michael Jackson's entrance to shame. And I'm not saying I like Michael Jackson.The screaming from the arena full of teenie boppers never ended. In my opinion, the screaming helped Britney's singing...or should I say "lip singing." How the hell could you not notice that she was lip singing. She missed her que several times and then spoke live after she sang. Either, the sound department did a terrible job with the microphone, or the sad fact was, Britney was not live in Las Vegas at all. Her CD playing her vocals behind the silver curtain with the great and powerful Oz was live instead. All in all, if you are a 12 year-old girl with nothing better to do on a Wednesday night, this is worth watching.

Catching this on TV was an odd experience- it was like a Rob Zombie concert, but instead of cool music and monster imagery it was a salute to a "Cherry 2000"-esque robot which lurched and jerked about the stage, belting out pre-recorded, pre-formed pop songs with all the skill and precision of Teddy Ruxpin. The high point of delirious stupidity is when drunken "Noah's Ark" star Jon Voight (who must sit during his whole appearance, save he stumble off the stage and land head first in the orchestra pit in a puddle of his own Scotch-flavored vomit) appears, slurring a bedtime story to a "young" Britney. The rest of the show is spastic, sub-"Mickey Mouse Club" dancing briefly seen between pre-recorder video bits. Appearing lost and queasy in this multi-media propaganda event is the clueless sex-puppet Britney (who is made of 85% recycled materials). She seems like one of those cherubic young girls whose soul-less, bitter moms force to prostitute themselves up for subhuman beauty contests, only this beauty contest is lasting Britney's whole life and the grand prize is having middle-aged fathers fantasize about her in the shower.

Our favorite blond, nubile, performing sex symbol brings together all the many and disparate elements of her considerable repertoire into the definitive and ultimate Britney Show. And what a statement she makes!!! She sings, dances, prances, smiles, pouts, cries, flies (yes, flies!), takes a shower!!!, and treats us to a patented Britney Spears Fashion Show as only she can do it. And all done in the big-arena, state-of-the-art, exploding, smoke-filled environment of Las Vegas glitz. One gets the distinct feeling that this show represents a watershed moment, a compendium of all that is Britney to this point, a statement of virtuosity in which one can almost see her in a mortarboard and gown, proud to receive her degree and ready to proceed on to postgraduate work. She's absolutely done it all at this level. The movies are next and one just knows absolutely that she's going to knock us all dead at that level, too! A great, great show!!! She did it again. Hail, Britney!