To commemorate the twentieth anniversary of Stripped—the album that Christina Aguilera carved out for herself to assure the masses she wasn’t just another “cookie-cutter” pop star—Xtina has released an updated music video, if you will, for “Beautiful.” As one of the most popular and enduring singles from Stripped (apart from, obviously, “Dirrty”), it makes sense that she would choose to “revamp” it for this reason alone. And yet, because society has become more “beauty”-obsessed in the past two decades (despite claims of being more “body positive” and “all-embracing” than ever), “Beautiful” is an undeniably pointed choice on Aguilera’s part.
At the time of Stripped’s release in 2002, critics were less than kind to it, with many claiming its lack of cohesion in terms of musical themes was part of the “problem.” And yet, if Stripped sounds like a sonic “hodge-podge,” maybe it was because Aguilera was still becoming a fully-formed adult (twenty-one going on twenty-two when Stripped was “unleashed”). And with its re-issuing today, it’s also funny to note how appropriate the news clips played in “Stripped Intro” remain, with sound bites like, “Christina Britney rivalry” and “We’re gonna let Christina tell her side of the story.” Obviously, Brit has been the one stoking that rivalry of late, which finally prompted Aguilera to unfollow her on Instagram (before Spears yet again deleted the account) after some ostensible body-shaming about her dancers was made. That particular feud still being relevant—“evergreen,” as Lady Gaga would say—also plays into how “Beautiful” itself is. And will remain forever so (or at least until humanity’s collapse).
In 2002, the pervasiveness of glossy print magazines ranging from YM to Seventeen to Glamour might have felt dangerous to a young woman’s body image, along with tabloid-esque rags like Us Weekly and Life & Style. But that would turn out to be nothing compared to what social media could wreak upon the psyche. For while it gave celebrities far more agency in terms of “setting the record straight” about their personal lives, it also allowed them a platform to promote the same tropes about what a body “should be.” This has included Kim Kardashian’s carefully-curated hourglass figure that’s still not “fat” at all compared to, say, “average American fat” (you know, driving three feet to get to the McDonald’s and such). A look that has caused many to want the same surgical procedure required to “achieve” this particular “aesthetic” (that is to say, a plucked turkey). And with the advent of more celebrities peddling their wares in the beauty industry via brands like Kylie Cosmetics, Fenty and R.E.M., fans and acolytes have found even more ways to attempt “perfection.” A.k.a. trying to emulate the celebrity they worship physically.
It was Lindsay Lohan as Cady Heron who said in 2004’s Mean Girls, “Apparently, there’s a lot of things that can be wrong on your body.” This is what she internally remarks upon after her new “friends,” Regina (Rachel McAdams), Gretchen (Lacey Chabert) and Karen (Amanda Seyfried), all stare at the mirror to point out their flaws. “My hips are huge,” Gretchen complains. Karen rebuffs, “Oh please, I hate my calves.” “At least you guys can wear halters, I’ve got man shoulders,” Regina adds. Gretchen continues, “My hairline is so weird,” followed by Regina noting, “My pores are huge” and Karen chiming in, “My nail beds suck.” This, however, would be nothing compared to the minutiae one could grasp at to find “wrong” with their appearance once the likes of Instagram arrived onto the scene.
Thanks to filters and other modifications made through apps (see: Madonna), anyone can look “perfect” on such a medium. Then, of course, TikTok came along to add numerous DIY beauty “hacks” into the mix that are far more dangerous than helpful (e.g., pore vacuuming, mole scraping, sunscreen contouring [meaning one applies sunscreen to only certain parts of the face to create a contouring effect after tanning] and “DIY” lip fillers—what could possibly go wrong?). So yes, despite 2002 being a more problematic time in certain ways, it was actually a safer time in many others.
Noticeably missing from the “reboot” edition of “Beautiful” is Aguilera herself, along with the famous opening whisper, “Don’t look at me” (which Damian [Daniel Franzese] in Mean Girls—for it all goes back to that movie—made all his own at the talent show). What’s more, there’s far less “grit” to the 2022 version, perhaps because ’02 was more oppressive, especially in terms of people still needing to feel as though they should hide their sexuality. Which is precisely why Xtina received a GLAAD award for featuring, among other marginalized people, two gay men kissing as onlookers watch in disgust in the original video—all while she declares, “I am beautiful no matter what they say.” Beauty expanding into many different definitions in terms of what certain people (*cough cough* conservatives) see as “ugly.”
Elsewhere, director Jonas Åkerlund (perhaps most famed for Madonna’s “Ray of Light”) gives us a scene of tangible bullying—which has since moved into the online space—as a girl with braces is knocked to the ground by her peers. To create a parallel thread from past to present, we’re also given a similar scene to one we’ll see in “Beautiful (2022).” Relating back to the teen boy in 02’s edition who has images of bodybuilders plastered all over his wall, and then proceeds to feebly try lifting a giant weight.
In another “vignette” from the original, a Black girl ripping up magazine images (because, again, magazines were the thing at the time—the ultimate tastemakers of beauty) of all the, you guessed it, white ladies being shown to her as the gold standard is also a powerful moment. And, at the very least, that’s one element that has noticeably changed in the past twenty years: representation. Granted, the media at large is still a long way away from fully mirroring reality in terms of our non-dominated-by-whites world.
Another cut in the original “Beautiful” reveals a goth guy sitting down on the bus, prompting everyone in the seats near him to scatter. In the present context, maybe that would stem from an inherent fear of him being an incel likely to go on a shooting rampage.
As the song reaches its crescendo of a bridge, everyone who has been featured in the video suddenly seems to be at peace with who they really are, as the anorexic girl smashes the mirror she’s been studying herself in, the girl with braces proceeds to smile through her tears, the girl who was ripping up magazines lies down on the couch with an aura of satisfaction and acceptance, the gay couple keeps kissing, the transgender woman keeps putting on her accoutrements of femininity, the goth guy sits on the bus unbothered and the thin guy flexes his muscle in defiance.
Perhaps the most glaring difference between what Xtina sought to highlight then and now is the fact that the obsession with beauty is hitting one’s consciousness even earlier on in life. This time around directed by Fiona Jane Burgess, the video opens with two shots of different boys staring at their glowing phones, followed by a girl doing the same. The latter hearing, “Because life for a man is harder than life for a woman.” We then cut to another girl applying makeup in front of her phone with a signature selfie light illuminating her face for just the right “halo” glow. Aguilera also calls out how it’s not a coincidence that there’s been a major increase on the dependency of antidepressants (on full display in a vending machine) and other pharmaceuticals that purport to put a “fixed it” stamp on people’s issues rather than addressing what’s at the core of the mental health crisis to begin with (hint hint: capitalism).
And yet, she “keeps it classic” in other ways by featuring a girl on her bed (cot, rather) with a barrage of images parading quintessential “hot girls” in bikinis marking up most of her wall. Another “analog” form of self-hatred is revealed by a boy in a similar room (except it’s a hospital) staring at a razor on his desk, as though trying not to cut himself with it.
The bodybuilding motif appears again as well, with a crowd of P.E. class-looking teens filming a Black man lifting weights (which somehow comes across as fetishistic). This is intercut with scenes of girls in matching blue vinyl skirts and crop tops (as though they raided Romy and Michele’s closet) sitting at their own individual “work stations” applying makeup in front of their phones with a selfie light like that first girl we saw. Xtina then transitions into a Nip/Tuck-esque series of scenes that emphasizes how much more pervasive and “normalized” plastic surgery has become in the culture. This montage also being shown as a circle of people stoically film the one they’re “studying” but not actually “seeing.”
Being more literal at times than she was in the original, Xtina sanctions the image of the girl with the collaged wall putting a puzzle together as the lyrics, “Trying hard to fill the emptiness/The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone” play over it. And, eventually, Burgess relies on the same storytelling device as Åkerlund: offering us the barrage of triumphant smiles through the pain, with a concluding scene featuring a group of girls climbing a tree together harmoniously (this being decidedly 2002, in that it seems children scarcely engage in such tactile behavior anymore). It’s a moment that speaks to how Xtina wanted to remind us of the importance of the song’s message for the sake of her own children growing up in this even more fucked-up time period (again, despite cries of how much “better” it is now). Which is why she stated, “Today, it’s harder than ever to hear our own voice amongst so many others infiltrating our feeds and minds with mixed messaging…ultimately leading us to tune-out our own truth and self-worth. The original ‘Beautiful’ video set out to bring awareness and a sense of compassion in the face of judgment, criticism and outside opinions. It still carries an important message to remember our core values outside of what’s being fed to us…to find a sense of balance and accepting ourselves for who we are.”
The tag to “Beautiful (2022)” then provides the visual of a turned-off phone bleeding like a body would, with the caption, “In the last twenty years, since Stripped was first released, social media has transformed our relationship with our bodies, and in turn, our mental health. Research suggests that time spent on social networking sites is associated with body image issues, self-harm and disordered eating in children and teens. This needs to change.” Of course, whether it actually will or not appears unlikely. What’s more worrisome is the potential contrast between this edition of the video and the one that might be created for another anniversary twenty years on from now. At which point, the environment might have finally forced people to pull their head out of their own ass with regard to vanity.
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