British singer and songwriter Lily Allen is cute, antagonistic, and a little obnoxious, but most of all she’s an exquisite observer of her surroundings. This sometimes not-so-healthy cynicism is smoothed over by her pop sensitive, sweet voice. What more could we ask for, right?
We could ask for a ready-made pop princess such as Christina Aguilera or a pre-breakdown Britney Spears, but instead we get the blatantly outspoken prom dress and sneaker clad tomboy that is Allen, which somehow makes up for the fact that we’ve fallen for the wiles of yet another pop diva.
Bella Wolfson’s Smile: ) The Story of Lily Allen paints a pop, watercolor portrait of an artist looking for acceptance in a world that insists that model-like attributes be taken seriously.
In her youth, Lily had the penchant for showbiz, but her tomboyish looks merely landed her non-descript roles in plays, sometimes even being cast as male characters in various productions. This emphasis on her looks, the bohemian lifestyle of her parents, as well as being abandoned by her father, would be the catalysts for her opinionated creativity.
Wolfson also chronicles Allen’s alcohol and drug use in the exotic locale Ibiza, as well as in her everyday life, but these facts serve as gossipy filler amidst her deeper story: the fact that she’s a mistress lyricist with an ear for reggae and jungle music sounds.
Being a 35-year-old male, I don’t fit into Allen’s demographic of 18-to-24-year old females, so I find her bickering with the likes of Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse simply irritating. Wolfson’s inclusions of these immature spats seem out of place, as they have no bearing on Lily as an artist.
Wolfson also writes as if she was instructed to do nothing but stroke Allen’s ego to the point of full climax, at one point even comparing her popularity to that of The Beatles. Lily is talented with an impressive fan base, no doubt, but it’s sheer arrogance to compare her to a group of kings.