Reality Bites
Watching Speidi is sort of like watching a snake eat its tail. You can tell the snake is pretty happy – what it’s eating is tasty and filling and everything’s going pretty smoothly (full belly, satisfied feeling) – but you just know that the inevitable conclusion is the snake will eat itself and there’s nothing it can do about it. There’ll be a flash of realization, then fear, in its eyes, and poof, it’ll be gone, nothing left but a few pieces of bleached hair and perhaps a few very white, very large teeth.
The heinous duo have made headlines again (it works on a schedule of approximately every four days) by ‘speaking out’, the Speidi way, against an American weatherman, Al Roker, who stood in during an interview with them on NBC show, Today, and, understandably, used the segment to vent his own frustrations with, lets say it together now, Everything That Is Wrong With The World Today.
The Speidi way of speaking out entails making a video for Us Weekly which, and I am quietly proud of this comparison, belongs on a fourteen year old’s Myspace as a shot fired in a slinging match between two rival cliques. It’s mortifying. And as I cringed and writhed uncomfortably, I felt the old feelings creep over. You see, what invariably happens whenever I encounter this pair in any capacity, is I am pitched into an internal debate/rage/furor during which I rant and rave at their knobbery, seriously consider what they represent on today’s pop cultural landscape and then assault someone with my conclusions/incoherent ramblings. Usually readers of this column.
The thing with Speidi is that they truly believe they’re 100% in control. They seem to think they’ve tamed the beast, that celebrity is at their beck and call – but all the while, like the monster in a kid’s puppet show that the kids can see but the puppet can’t, it’s looming behind them, biding its time. And so, I got to thinking (and no, you can’t say that line without gazing out the window of an Upper East Side brownstone) when it comes to fame, are you ever really playing the game, or is the game always playing you?
In the wake of the SuBo palaver and the flood of sympathetic articles that ensued, some bordering on patronizing, discussion has turned to whether or not the Average Joes who sign up for reality shows with brother, loser or survivor in the title, or the crop of talent shows – singing, acting, modeling, dancing, skating, breathing – actually know what they’re getting themselves into. And I’m talking about Average Joes today, not faded celebrities reviving a flailing/dead in the water career through a confessional reality series. That’s another thesis altogether.
Of course, the SuBo phenomenon is ancient history in the celebrity world, but my mother finally got around to ‘the YouTube’ the other day and, having read all the media broo ha ha surrounding the woman, decided it was high time to watch the video. As well as commenting on SuBo’s technique (‘gee she’s got good breathing’) Mum felt compelled to enter the inevitable debate that surrounds reality TV show contestants who go up so fast they don’t know what’s going on until they’ve come crashing down again and there’s no one around to help them up, but an awful lot of people shrugging and saying ‘well what did you expect?’ And that, combined with the latest Speidi instalment, got me pontificating.
Using the Susan Boyle example, it being the most high profile of its type right now; we all know the fairy tale (if you don’t, why are you reading this column?) and we all know it hit a low point some time in the 24 hours after she came runner up to a dance troupe leading to a brief stint in the Priory for exhaustion. Headlines loved it. SuBo Breaks Down, Has SuBo Lost It? What’s Wong With SuBo? yadda yadda yadda – and a new spin appeared in entertainment op-eds – how repulsive we are, as the public, for letting something like this happen. Two camps emerged, the sympathetic versus the ‘they know what they’re getting themselves into.’
Well, I’m not entirely sure people do know what to expect. I think they have a fairly clear cut idea – photographers, blogs, free drinks, people knowing my name – but when you sign away your image to a television show, it owns you. And after it’s done owning you, the magazines and websites and newspapers that write about you, they own you. They own you on a slow news day, they own you when they want to make sales, and they own you when you’ve pissed them off. The thing is, you’re only relevant as long as you serve a purpose, and in the relationship between the famous and the famous-maker, the famous can be as manipulative as they like, but it’s the maker who will always win out.
You’re something till you’re nothing and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Reality television spews out celebrities at a rate at which we almost cannot keep up with. And that suits us, because we live at a pace at which we almost cannot keep up with. Here’s the deal – we see a face, we read its story, we watch it on YouTube, we update our Facebook status about it, we Tweet, we forward a few photos, check a few blogs and then, you know what, we’re done. Next. Staying relevant to our generation, and the one below us, who are so geared toward instant gratification, excess and constant stimulation is extraordinarily difficult, expensive and soul destroying. Do people seriously understand that, when they’re waiting in the Idol audition line? And furthermore, do they have any idea how expendable they are to the television network that has a very good idea of how difficult, expensive and soul destroying staying relevant is? No. I don’t think they do.
At the end of the day, for all those aspiring celebs, perhaps it is best to keep this in mind; reality bites, and reality TV chews you up and spits you out.
