I admit that I am a reality television junkie. If you want proof, read my 2002 essay written about the sleazy Alex Michel of early "The Bachelor" fame, which was anthologized in the new reader: Pop Perspective: Readings to Critique Contemporary Culture, edited by the wonderful Laura Gray-Rosendale (McGraw-Hill, 2008). I love the Gene Simmons and Kathy Griffin reality shows and my wife can't get enough of "So You Think You Can Dance."
What I do not like is the third generation ludicrous reality shows that now dominate much of the genre, such as the Flavor Flav show and its spin-offs and others that focus on getting b-list celebrities to do stupid things on camera. Therefore, you will never catch me watching an iteration of "The Surreal Life" or anything starring Poison front man Bret Michaels.
As lame and unwatchable as many of these lame show are -- let's call them "celeb faux-tainment" -- none of them seem as offensive to me as "Scott Baio is 45...and Single." After watching a handful of episodes, I can't help but get angry -- at myself for tuning in. [Has anyone figured out a way to get those wasted hours of life back?]
This isn't the place for a recap, but the premise is that Scott Baio wants to settle down, marry, and have a family after a life of celebrity singledom and he can't figure out why he has never been married. In an attempt to figure himself out, Baio hires a life coach (Doc Ali) to help him get to the bottom of the conundrum.
What unfolds is the portrait of a sitcom star as perpetual actor. Baio half-asses it through the assignments the life coach gives him and wonders why all the ex-girlfriends he's had basically hate him. [A clue: dude, you cheated on every one of them with some other high-profile celebrity] Baio is so caught up being "Scott Baio, celebrity bachelor" that he does not possess the basic humanity that exists somewhere deep in the hearts of most people. He has no idea what makes him tick because he is playing a role, rather than living a life.
Adding to Baio's "challenges" is a handful of hangers-on who perpetuate the worst parts of his personality for their own gain/amusement. What nebish 40-something nobody in Hollywood wouldn't want Baio as a friend and at least have the chance to catch some of his castoffs? From the episodes that have aired, it seems that he and his friend/groupies do little more each day than smoke cigars, play golf, and travel to Vegas for good times.
The most entertaining part of each show is watching Baio's look of shock as a different aspect of his personality is picked apart by an ex-girlfriend or Doc Ali. As a viewer, one sits there wondering, "this guy can't really be this obtuse, can he?" The second funniest clip is when he declares that he isn't a mean guy and didn't do anything "malicious" to any of the women from his past, that him cheating, being noncommittal, etc. was "just me being me." Maybe "train wreck television" is a better name for shows like the ones featuring Baio, Michaels, or any of Flavor Flav's "ladies."
The irony is that millions of people watch reality television each week to escape the real reality of day to day life in modern America. It is much easier to watch Scott Baio or "American Idol" than worry about American kids getting blown up in Iraq or starving people living under a freeway overpass.
When it comes to thinking about popular culture, the best bet is to look to the words of Ray B. Browne, professor emeritus of popular culture studies at Bowling Green State University, who has spent a lifetime examining the field. He says, "United States popular culture is ourselves and our country, and we, for better or worse, are our popular culture."
Perhaps this quote raises more questions than it answers, but it is a great jumping off point for deeper thinking about why we turn to pop culture in times of national crisis.
