The eyes beckon, the lips purse. Fixing an unwavering gaze on the camera, Lana Del Rey strikes a classic come-hither stare, dropping her high beams only long enough to shift attention to the money shot — a pout that could be a model for the entire plastic surgery industry of greater Los Angeles.

“Everything I do/it’s all for you,” intones a glazed-looked Del Rey, offering herself up as both pliant sex toy and aloof goddess.

Gestures this savored and cliched provide the hard sell of Del Rey’s clip for her breakthrough song, “Video Games,” a piece that, starting last summer, earned that most dubious of modern distinctions:

“Internet phenomenon.”

In the months since, “Video Games” has been viewed more than 20 million times — impressive numbers, though piddling ones compared to the 189 million souls who preferred to watch a clip of babies passing gas.

On the strength of “Games,” Del Rey bagged a contract with Interscope Records, which, by fall, used its juice to push two more videos — “Born to Die” and “Blue Jeans” — both of which elaborated the image of the singer as a wan and self-destructive sex bomb in desperate need of masculine rescue.

Considering the Twitter-driven metabolism of the current pop conversation, it’s small wonder Del Rey has since suffered a backlash, a counter-backlash and a counter-counter-backlash, all before she has even had the chance to release her major-label debut. At long last, it comes out Tuesday.

Foes have fixated on the “revelation” — available to all with access to Wikipedia — that Del Rey isn’t her actual name.

Shock! Horror!

Next thing you know they’ll tell us Young Jeezy isn’t his given moniker.

Del Rey (nee Lizzy Grant) earned more derision for being the daughter of a millionaire whose money comes from a trendy source, domain investing. Despite whatever Mitt Romney has to say about the perils of “class envy,” this didn’t sit well with pop’s Occupy masses.

Of course, it isn’t Del Rey’s fault she’s privileged, financially or genetically.

Also, it’s no sin, or novelty, that she has a bomb run at pop stardom buried in her past. Two years ago, she released a pale and undefined disk produced by David Kahne (with promotion provided by her dad).

The worldwide gawk over Del Rey escalated two weeks ago when she zombied her way through two numbers on “Saturday Night Live.” As pop pratfalls go, it may well have been the worst since Milli Vanilli’s audio team neglected to bring the backing tapes.

This time, even demi-celebrities joined the protest.