I thought, based on the title, that this show might be similar to Little House on the Prairie. I assumed it was set in Montana, which makes me think of bison, pioneers and cornbread cooked in a skillet, all things I was introduced to in that series of books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I expected a show about pioneer women of steely spine and kind hearts living in our fourth largest state. Possible plotlines: the birth and death of a baby pony; running out of butter; Christmas dance in town.
This was an incorrect assumption.
As it turns out, “Hannah Montana” is not about pioneer women at all. After one viewing, I am not entirely sure where the series is set, but it is not Montana. Everyone in the show seems to have been dressed by American Eagle and/or Juicy Couture, and there are repeated establishing shots of a large, modern house on a beach. I’ve been to Montana several times. Lovely state. No beach.
While annoyed that I was so far off in my assumption, I tried to keep from the judging the show before watching at least one complete episode. However, I saw little that endeared it to me. As a matter of fact, the question of setting became more important the further into the episode I went, for wherever this series is taking place, it is a strange land indeed. I began to think of it as “Montanaland” (to distinguish it from Montana the state). Life is odd in Montanaland.
For one thing, the laws of science that rule over all of our daily lives do not apply in Montanaland On the episode I watched, a teenaged character named Jackson caused all the shelves in the refrigerator to crash down to the floor merely by lightly bumping into it. By lightly, I mean “barely at all.” I routinely smack myself off of my fridge, for it is ever-so-slightly wider than the doorway closest to it, but I have never caused the shelves to come tumbling down (the door fell off once, but I actually had not done anything to it at all except opened it, and something tells me that this not the time for that story).
As if that was not enough of a rebuke to our gravity-laden world, water also seems to flow upward in Montanaland. Jackson flushed a container of mu shu pork down the kitchen sink garbage disposal, only to discover that it had emerged from the shower in the bathroom upstairs, onto the head of Billy Ray Cyrus. [Aside on Billy Ray Cyrus: When I first saw the credits for the show and realized that Billy Ray Cyrus appeared on it, I inwardly cringed, fearful that “Achy Breaky Heart” would enter my consciousness and take up residence. However, it turns out he is easily the best actor on the show (second place might go to a paper mache mascot head) and thus I found myself perking up whenever he entered the scene, a very odd sensation indeed. End aside.] I confess that I dump food down my sink all the time, that I have taken a number of showers in my life, and even that my bathroom is on the same floor as my kitchen, but, as of yet, no food has emerged onto my head. I don’t think I’d like to live in a world where this might happen.
Along with demonstrably different laws of physics, the world of “Hannah Montana” also has a unique sense of time. In episode I saw, two plotlines – Jackson and the plumbing at home, his sister (?) Miley/Hannah and her best friend Lilley joining the cheerleading squad at school -- were shown to be running concurrently. This is a fine dramatic technique, but it means that Miley/Hannah and Lilley auditioned for, were selected to join, learned the routines for, garbed themselves in the appropriate mascot/cheerleaders uniforms of, and appeared at an event as the new mascot and cheerleader for the Pirates Cheerleading Squad in approximately 3 to 4 hours, the amount of time Jackson and his father struggled with the plumbing. As a high school teacher, I am deeply impressed by the amount of work the young women must have put into this particular day and wonder how I can get my students to be similar stewards of such excellent time management.
Also unclear: why Jackson did not have to go school (although Montanaland High School did not seem to be terribly interested in academics), what sport or team the cheerleaders were rooting for, and why Billy Ray Cyrus did not immediately wash off the Chinese food but instead donned a bathrobe and walked around with the food on his head for another scene. Given the nebulous time structure of Montanaland the scene may have been several days later. Yes, I know that I should have asked that in the paragraph above, but I have been thinking about it all the way through this paragraph. Why, Billy Ray? Why?
Physics. Time. It’s probably no surprise that communication is different in Montanaland, too. Take humor. For example, Miley/Hannah was, at one point early on, holding cheerleaders’ pom-poms. Lilley, regarding her, said, “You are holding one pom-pom in that hand, and another pom-pom in another hand. So, are you holding pom-pom-pom-poms?” Now, I do not wish to brag, but I have two college degrees in Theatre and have studied clowning, commedia dell’arte, and the works of Neil Simon, and thus might be expected to have a reliable visceral reaction when something funny happens. I was quite perplexed, then, when loud, vigorous laughter emerged from the television set as Lilley delivered this line, while I felt only confusion, and, to be honest, a bit of melancholy.
There are several more examples, but these will suffice, I think, to show how Montanaland is not very much like the American Prairie, or even my life in Brooklyn. Indeed, it doesn’t seem to be much like life on this planet. Yet, remarkably, no one comments on this Bizarro world. Perhaps part of the conceit of the show is that the characters do not recognize the unique aspects of their planet? Is it a sociological commentary that cautions viewers against insisting on seeing the world only through the eyes of their own culture?
It makes me think of a poster taped to the wall directly in front of my seat throughout all of 1st grade. There was a picture of a dolphin, and the poster read, “A smile is the same in every language.” I am no longer entirely sure that is true. I suspect that in Montanaland, a smile means something different from anywhere else.
However, I must say that even with all of these characteristics of Montanaland in mind, it is the central duality of the main character, Miley/Hannah that I found most confusing. I just do not understand what’s going on there. The show began with Miley, who seems to be Hannah but wearing one of Lady Gaga’s wigs, performing in pajamas with back-up dancers/lyp-synchers/pillow fighters at a concert. The pajamas were easily the least revealing stage outfit ever – I’ve seen Mandy Patinkin wear less in concert – and the song she performed was approximately 30 seconds long. The lyrics instructed the audience to “Party Now” and that seems appropriate because, obviously, if one did not party immediately, you’d miss out because the party was over when the song ended after 8 more measures. Immediately after, Miley/Hannah went backstage to talk to Lilley, who seemed to be just Lilley (although she was wearing a bobbed purple wig and pearls, which kind of made her look like a baby Elaine Stritch. This got my hopes up in a false way. Boo.). No one else was visibly around, although these young women are clearly under 18 and it might have been a school night.
After bemoaning their sad inability to spend time together (although they were, of course, spending time together right then), the girls then decided to spend more time together. And then the show ran its opening credits and the Hannah character disappeared, replaced by Miley, who was whinier, to be honest. Then Hannah returned towards the end of the episode to announce she was going to a Rolling Stones concert. Did Lilley want to spend more time with Hannah? Or with Miley? Or with both? Or either? Was she trying to subtly tell Miley that she has a split personality disorder? Did either girl get what she wanted? Or what? And why would the Rolling Stones invite a child to come backstage… never mind. Let’s not pursue this line of thought.
Now, I hate to be a crank, but back in my day of TV, if there was a central conceit that one needed to know to enjoy the show, it was explained, preferably via a dramatic voice over by the show’s lead male actor, over the opening credits. That is why I never watched “The A-Team” and thought, “Wait a minute, who are these guys and what shenanigans are they up to?”
Innovation in television is fine and all, but I would strongly encourage the producers of “Hannah Montana” to explain – at the beginning of each episode! -- what the heck is going on with their title character’s switcharoo, for all I’ve got after one episode is that it seems she is part of a really cocky branch of the Witness Protection Program. Right now, the most revealing thing the theme song’s lyrics tell us is that we should “Chill out/Take it slow/Then you rock out the show.” While this is not inherently bad advice, it’s also not very helpful for someone wandering, lost and confused, through Montanaland. While they’re at it, the producers might add disclaimers to the show, along the lines of “This show is set in Montanaland, where humor, gravity and laws of motion are not like they are wherever you live. Please do not try any of this at home.”
So. A confusing work about a young girl, not much at all like Laura Ingalls, although of course, I do not hold that against her, living in hiding in a land of unique physical properties, in which the best thing about it is a man who insists on flat-ironing his hair, wearing a soul patch and making money off his kids. This is, apparently, what we are showing to our daughters nearly every day.
What is my final judgment? Who do I think this show is for? I’d have to say that it will find favor among the elderly, since they like people who are loud and clearly spoken, and usually find teenagers quite adorable, even as the rest of us avoid them. Also, people with split personality disorder might like this show, since it seems to be about one of their own. People who have never lived in on this planet might find it comforting and familiar as well, as would people who wish they had been alive during the heyday of the Theatre of the Absurd. I would also advise it for Billy Ray Cyrus fans, or anyone who wants to become one (as we have seen by his effect on me, above). For everyone else? Definitely, “take it slow.” Or, not at all.
