First note of the evening - Justin Timberlake is a prima donna.
Maybe you knew that already, but seriously after an AMAZING opening set from Pink - who succeeded in combining unbeatable showmanship working the 360-degree stage and being utterly dorky-adorable into one sexy, muscular, hang-upside-on-pink-rope-with-no-security-cables package - and an intermission-turned-rock-out-party with Timbaland DJing (yes, TIMBALAND), Justin... hiding in the middle of the stage and piroutting out of reach of outstretched hands is not cool.

Timberlake manhandling a female dancer with um, no ass whatsoever

I'm (half) kidding. It was an awe-inspiring show. And I'm aware Justin can't share himself with four sides of a stage equally, not matter how much one tries. And when you see someone who was such a significant part of your tentative teenage years, you'd of course like him to come as close as possible to check if he's real. It was fantastic trying to figure out if this was a strip club or a party or a rock concert or a special effects laser light show. Or See How Justin Can Play Every Single Musical Instrument In Existence. There were these mad, giant S-curve-shaped screens that lifted, fell and turned throughout the concert to allow every section to have either a good view of the TV screen close-ups or the man in person.

Unfortunately, as illustrated, the screens were built to envelope and place another barrier between performer and audience every time he wasn't on the part of the stage facing your section. I would make a few metaphorical arguments about this if I were writing a review, but thank goodness, I'm not.

Timbaland set

However, Justin redeemed himself by slouching about and loudly proclaiming how glad he was to be back in the South and acting mock-surprised when everyone booed (he's from Tennessee; U of Tennessee knocked UVA out of the running for NCAA basketball only hours ago) and meeting high, high expectations of dynamism. Although there was I'm-so-a-part-of-this-hood triteness in the crazy-video segment that included Aaliyah montage tribunes and EVERY Nelly Furtado video during the the Timbaland set, when he came back onstage for an encore on the piano and dragged out that trademark falsetto trill and giggle-smirk, for me it was all, ah, there you are, there's my boy.
Although there's hardly any trace left of MaggiMee head who loved sticking his tongue out and being the crux of those demented-squid dance moves and crash-landing his bandmates. Haiya, I suddenly feel very old.