Not Exactly Brilliant, but at Least the Colors Are


tmzGiven the horrifying over pneumatic force that has racked the N.f.l. as of late, it was fitting that the halftime stimulation at Super Bowl XLIX was Katy Perry, a monarch of our emptied pop times.

Ms. Perry is a Technicolor figure, an artist who tackles the shapes and tones she is given with aplomb and cheer yet perhaps not wit. That hasn’t hampered her prosperity — her “Teen Dream” of 2010 (Capitol) was the first collection by a female craftsman to land five tunes on the Billboard Hot 100, and her 2013 collection “Crystal” had two deafening hits. Ms. Perry is a pop lasting, one of the few left.

Also the Super Bowl halftime show is an enormous stage, one that obliges the kind of pop stars that aren’t being printed routinely any longer, ones with wide cross-demographic advance. In this environment, Ms. Perry will do.

Amid her 12 or something like that minutes on the University of Phoenix Stadium field on Sunday, she stood her ground, exploring a modest bunch of her crushes and three closet changes in an execution that opposed terrible temperament, crossing all of Ms. Perry’s modes: the triumphant “Thunder,” the spooky “Dim Horse” (tragically without the rapper Juicy J), the jaunty “California Gurls,” the signal of unadulterated elevate “Firecracker.”

tmzMs. Perry for the most part doesn’t move much in front of an audience, so she was exhibited in a progression of setups that conceal that truth — on a pseudo-decorated mechanical lion, among an ocean of moving chess pieces and joined to a falling star lifted high over the field.

Also she was talented with visitor specialists who gave her key spread. Take “I Kissed a Girl,” a faint tune about trying different things with cross-sexuality that was Ms. Perry’s first Billboard Hot 100 graph topper, in 2008. She sang it in two part harmony with Lenny Kravitz, who opened the tune, probably to help the topic go down all the more effectively for ill-equipped, unforgiving viewers.

After around a moment of shouty singing and guitar anxiety, Mr. Kravitz was gone, leaving scarcely an imprint, having been in front of an audience to a great extent to relax that melody and to console the individuals who still oblige the sight of a guitar, even one not connected to anything.

Ms. Perry profited significantly more from her second visitor, the rapper Missy Elliott, long out of the spotlight yet effectively the most advanced sounding craftsman on the stage. She ran a pace course through three hits — “Get Ur Freak On,” “Work It,” “Lose Control” — and effortlessly multiplied the vitality in front of an a

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