Hollywood is sending the women of America mixed signals.
Hollywood knows we go to the movies and watch those reality
television shows because somewhere in all of us, we want to be
famous.
But it looks like Hollywood doesn’t quite know what it
wants. On one hand, it’s telling us that fame is easy as long
as we are willing to degrade ourselves in front of a national
audience. But it’s also telling us to screw the degradation,
and go out and kill somebody. How long, oh lord, how long, until
you show us the true way?
This week millions of faithful TV junkies were glued to
FOX’s second episode of “Joe Millionaire.” You
know, the one where Evan (Mr. Joe Millionaire himself) decided that
the best way to a woman’s heart was through the calluses on
her hands.
So Evan took the ladies for a day of romantic grape picking. In
the rain. Then it was off to the train station to whisper sweet
nothings while shoveling coal into a smoking steam engine. And
finally, they got to make googly-eyes with Evan while they cleaned
his stable of horse manure.
Quoth Evan, “I just wanted to see who would make the best
of a bad situation.”
Now I know that it’s not really about the love, and we
want to see these money-grubbing witches suffer a little, but
wouldn’t all the bright eyes and smiles just prove how much
they’re willing to fake in order to win? Wouldn’t the
real catch be the one who had the guts to drop her pitchfork and
proudly proclaim, “Screw this?”
Seems like there’s a parable here ““ or maybe
I’m thinking about wise King Solomon. Wasn’t he the one
that said, “All the money-grubbing swine shall share Joe
Millionaire. Cut him in 20 itty-bitty pieces”?
And then a single voice rang out, “No I cannot bear it.
His eyes, biceps and smile are just too dreamy to destroy.”
And Solomon saw who the worthy one really was. And it was good.
But then this mythical, good-natured fair-minded reality TV show
vixen probably doesn’t exist. And the networks probably
don’t want her to, because seeing Evan cut up into bits has
got to be the bigger ratings draw, right? Which brings me to my
next point.
Maybe fame isn’t the way to go; maybe infamy is the key.
And unlike flammable and inflammable, these two words don’t
mean the same thing. But their respective results do.
Look at the musical “Chicago” playing in movie
theaters now. Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly (Renee Zellweger and
Catherine Zeta-Jones, respectively) don’t fake enjoying
spending the afternoon knee-deep in manure. Instead of pleasing the
men they’re vying for, they just shoot them point-blank for
the headlines.
At least they’ve got their priorities straight.
Killing in the name of glory, glamour and a good old-fashioned
show tune: if that isn’t the American way, then I just
honestly don’t know what is. Death and fame are part of a
long-standing marriage as Hollywood has saturated our entire
culture with celebrity-mania.
Now that would be an awesome reality-show. I can see it now:
“Joe Target Practice.” Surest shot wins. And until that
golden day comes, forget Evan and his charmingly humble vocabulary,
those eyes that could melt butter, and those forearms that could
hold me so tight and protect me through these cold L.A. nights …
uh, right.
In the end ,then, Hollywood just wants us to go to any extreme
to be famous. Maybe, it doesn’t matter what exactly you do as
long you do it whole hog and give it your all. That’s the
only healthy way to become a celebrity. Extremism is the new
moderation.
So, men, take your ladies out to see “Chicago,” I
can all but guarantee you’ll get some afterwards. Just be
sure to hide any firearms in the room. Women get some crazy ideas
sometimes. They might just fantasize that they can get, well,
famous.
E-mail Cobb at ccobb@media.ucla.edu. His 3 favorite reality
shows are “World News Tonight,”
“Sportscenter” and the “Girls Gone Wild”
Infomercial.