Squeaky clean Selena Gomez trying to spice things up

“We’re in a magic place, y’all. You can change who you are, yo. Bikinis and big booties, yo. That’s what life is about.”

­— Alien (James Franco), “Spring Breakers”

One can only imagine what Selena Gomez must have thought when she first read the aforementioned line of dialogue in the script for “Spring Breakers,” but it seems to have informed her thinking when deciding to join the cast of Harmony Korine’s fantasia of flesh, guns and gold teeth.

The movie was supposed to be Gomez’s bold foray away from her Disney past and into young adulthood, a chance to change who she is, yo, or at least the public perception of as much, while boozing, smoking and getting arrested in brightly colored swimwear.

But “Spring Breakers” isn’t a case of Gomez breaking from character as much as a reaffirmation of the public persona she’s cultivated since debuting as a cast member on “Barney &Friends” over a decade ago.

In the film, Gomez plays Faith, one of four college friends who head to Florida for spring break where they party hard, cavort with drug dealers and dance around parking lots.

Faith, the good girl of the foursome who doubles as their collective conscience, soon ends up taking a bus back home, though, as her friends escalate the mayhem.

Even when breaking bad, Faith is quick to pump the brakes.

And this, in a nutshell, is Selena Gomez.

She’s the anti-Miley Cyrus, as middle-of-the-road as a traffic median, a Stepford pop star if ever there was one.

As such, Gomez is popular with moms and dads with teenage daughters because she’s the kind of squeaky-clean overachiever who many parents want their child to grow up to be.

She’s successful, talented, says all the right things, stays out of trouble.

But here’s the problem: She’s dull, like watching golf on TV, debating politics with a pet rock or attempting to memorize the Yellow Pages.

Her solo debut, “Stars Dance,” is by-the-numbers dance pop with all the personality of a plastic fern.

(Gomez also recorded three albums with a band as Selena Gomez &The Scene, who gave us one of the most nonsensical hits in recent memory with “Love You Like a Love Song”).

On “Stars,” Gomez does attempt to spice things up in places.

“You know I’m good at mouth to mouth,” she purrs on “Slow Down,” moans sensually in the background on album-opener “Birthday” and kind of, sort of tells a guy off on “Forget Forever.”

But even this feels pro forma and stiff, as if she’s merely playing a role scripted by marketing executives in some major label boardroom.

There’s little to nothing about Gomez’s music that feels like an authentic expression of herself.

Why is this?

Because, for the most part, pop starlets are rewarded for sticking to a bland, rigid, idealized script of how a young woman should carry herself.

She can acknowledge her sexuality, but only in general, vague terms.

She can sing party anthems, just never get too specific about what said partying entails.

She’s expected to have a song, or 30, about being a strong, independent woman while never actually exhibiting the traits she sings of in any meaningful way.

Sure, a number of women have made careers out of defying these expectations — Britney Spears, Pink, Ke$ha and the aforementioned Cyrus all come to mind.

But they’re viewed much differently than shiny, plastic stars like Carrie Underwood, Beyonce and Gomez, who are treated as role models with their requisite songs about the value of being yourself even though they seldom put much if anything of themselves into their music.

The message here is a muddled one: You go girl! Just as long as you go in the direction prescribed for you.

And that’s precisely what Gomez does, which is no grand indictment of her considerable talents.

Really, how we could we even begin to criticize her?

Four albums into her career, we still have no idea who she even is.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476. Follow on Twitter @JasonBracelin.