As the velvet curtains begin to rise up from the ground, the silhouettes of a half dozen circus performers slowly file out across the smoke-filled stage. From above, the outline of a hanging cage pokes through the darkness. The ringleader stands motionless inside, wearing a crimson jacket and black riding boots, a long whip grasped securely in her right hand. The cage is halfway down at this point, now slowly rotating for all to see. On her face she wears a cheetah mask, with wildly ornate plumes flaring out from all sides. The cage touches ground. She steps off, slowly removing the mask to unveil a buoyant bob of healthy, blonde, shoulder-length hair. Smirking slightly, she raises the whip behind her head: "There's only two types of people in the world: the ones who entertain, and the ones who observe." With a short crack of the whip, the stage explodes with lights, sound, and smoke. Noticing an eerie silence from my right, I turn to find my neighbor frozen in pose, mouth agape and hands pressed firmly against her cheeks in disbelief. Yeah, I'd say Britney's back.

And so, "The Circus: Starring Britney Spears" began-a show that, until only about three months ago, would have seemed more like a cruel joke if offered up in conversation than an actual event. I've tried to evade the cringeworthy "C word" in describing the night's events (Get your heads out of the gutter-I'm talking about "comeback"). However, to remove the narrative from the equation would ultimately mean ignoring the symbolism behind The Circus: Standing here is a young woman, who, despite being reduced to a mere shell of herself only two years ago, drugged against her will and lost in a barrage of shady associates and media scrutiny, is now performing in the center of a sold out TD Banknorth Garden, an arena that seats approximately 18,000 people-a reality that lifts the production from the ranks of mere brilliance to a damn near miracle.

Split between four main acts and an encore, The Circus remains true to its name: Incorporating a healthy dose of magicians, aerial artists, gymnasts, ringmasters, clowns and a fair share of freaks, the show is a dizzying 90-minute powerhouse of 19 of Britney Spears' finest pop anthems set within a three-ring stage in the round.

While the show may borrow its incredibly marketable theme from her latest album, Circus, (Britney-branded popcorn, balloons and light-up lollipops are all sold from faux-vending carts), its musical contents are ironically Blackout-based; the show includes only three tracks from Circus, as opposed to Blackout's eight.

Accordingly, the show is as manic as the album it most heavily borrows from. For instance, during the "House of Fun" segment, the performance jumps from the Rhythm Nation-like military stomp of "Boys" to the girly glee of "If U Seek Amy." Brandishing a glittery, pink, Super Mario-sized hammer, the star merrily skipped her way around the stage, bopping her dancers over the head and effectively turning the last 30 seconds of the song into a live- action game of whack-a-mole.

Never one to shirk her duty to get dirty, the "Freakshow" segment of The Circus comprises a medley of her most seductive numbers, leading with one of the show's greatest highlights, the "Sweet Dreams" interlude-a gritty raunchfest featuring Spears and her dancers entangled in an orgy of limbs and leather, all set to the sound of Marilyn Manson's cover of the Eurythmic's classic. Very "My Prerogative" meets "Erotica," and very much essential.

The only drawback to the most provocative sequences of the show was the costume selection, which went from bad (a glittery one-piece with obnoxious tassels) to really bad (a faux-tattoo one-piece with Keith Haring-like squiggles pasted across Brit's naughty bits.) Thank you, William Baker (pop star stylist), for your continued hatred of the female form.

Scattered throughout the show were many moments designed to re-establish Spears' image as the shot caller. Following "Boys," the singer instructs her male dancers to drop down and "give me ten-real ones." After counting it out, Spears skips up and down the line of sweaty soldiers at her feet, sing-songing along in an army chant: "I don't know what you been told-This mama is in control. Sound off!"

Truly, the mama was calling the shots. Whether it can be attributed to creative input or simply to threatening to cancel the tour, Britney is getting her way this time. As anyone familiar with Spears' personal tastes might conclude, the setlist comprises nearly all of the singer's favorites, including "Boys," "Touch of My Hand" and of course, "Do Somethin'," during which the singer dons a pair of sunglasses, drills away at a metal contraption and flips off the audience several times while images of tattooed pin-up girls flash overhead.

As the media has been quick to pounce upon, the show was indeed lip-synched. Shocking, I know, given that Britney Spears has always been known for her vocal prowess and artistic integrity. It's difficult to believe that people still harp on the lip-synching gig. Honestly-and trust me, this comes from a loving place-but does anyone actually want to hear her live? While I pride myself upon being one of the greatest fans of Spears' ill-controlled, drowning cat warble, even I would put my foot down at the notion of a live concert.

Nay, vocals should not be the reason one attends the Britney show. For, The Circus is exactly that-a circus, an engaging visual experience put on by one of the world's most established pop artists, complete with an extensive array of choreographed stage theatrics, provocative imagery and catchy beats. Above all, it's just plain fun.

As I turned for a final word with my neighbor, one of her high school gal-pals said it better than I ever could have: "This is the best night of my life. Seriously, this is probably going to be better than my wedding night." I couldn't argue with that.