Hannah Montana is dead, and you're invited to her funeral, hosted by an arse-cheek baring, tongue-loving, gyrating Miley Cyrus (Naomi Price). Price's scantily clad Miley has come back to her hometown to farewell squeaky clean Hannah and bury her own past. Complete with southern belle accent Price sings and quips her way through an exploration of what it is to be Miley, a girl born into wealth and fame, and raised by Disney. Price is hilarious and surprisingly moving as the walking, talking train wreck that is Miley Cyrus, a young girl teetering on the edge of self-destruction in her efforts to separate herself from her past. And it's a hell of a lot of fun to watch.
From hoe-down to ho-down, Price twerks her way into Miley's conflicted consciousness. Making inappropriate jokes – Phillip Seymour Hoffman, too soon? – taming drunks, scoffing audience member's drinks, giving impromptu lap dances, initiating twerk-offs, and stripping to her underwear, she leads a musical eulogy through the shedding of Miley's metaphorical skin. You'll start feeling that there's more to Miley than tongue, arse and crass. You'll start thinking there's substance behind the latex. You could feel compelled to familiarise yourself with her back catalogue. You might even find yourself holding back tears as Price belts out Miley's opus Wrecking Ball, stripped down to her knickers. Seriously.
