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Thou shalt not worship false idols.
American Idols, that is.
I've been ranting incessantly about reality shows lately. I don't have anything against them, per se, except that they've gotten out of control. I also find it ironic that the only work struggling actors seen to be able to get lately is either as contestants on reality shows or playing contestants who screw with the real contestants on reality shows. I also can't believe that the contestants who are being tricked are STUPID ENOUGH to fall for these lame premises, even after seeing similar situations repeatedly on TV. It's like being in college and falling for the "Hey - got your nose" trick.
So, it's round three for American Idol and, typically, these 50,000 hopefuls have NO CLUE as to what it takes to qualify and subsequently win this talent competition... even though we've already seen it TWICE.
Delusional behavior aside (although it is fun to watch), what is really drawing my focus this time around is the insane sense of entitlement these contestants seem to be showcasing. These contestants have seen that this contest actually pays off, and they want a piece of the action. Upon being told that they don't have what it takes to make it, they go into meltdown. They've been complimented on their talent their whole lives by adults who didn't want to hurt their feelings... or by guys who wanted to get their pants off... or by people who were afraid that any criticism would cause thermonuclear mental breakdown. How, then, could Simon, Paula and Randy NOT recognize their talent?
This has to be the last round of American Idol, because, clearly, they are attracting nothing but the mentally ill at this point. Any struggling writer knows depression on a too-familiar basis, and the wig-out factor of the contestants exhibits clear signs of people needing professional help. These are depressed people who hate their lives and think that if they win American Idol and become rich and famous, all their problems will be over.
They're wrong. Fame and fortune does not solve psychiatric problems. Fortune solves money problems. Fame solves nothing. Medication and therapy solve psychiatric problems.
So, this time around, the focus is on entitlement. I came here, therefore you owe me. "What do you mean "No"? You're telling me I just wasted my time?" That's right. Instead of talking on the phone to your friends about the mud pit you swim in or playing X-Box, we wasted your time by giving you a chance to be a superstar. Sorry.
"But I came all the way down here." Oh, well, then I guess we owe you big. If you drive two hours and wait in line for a day, you get to be famous now. That's how the real world works. Those people in Hollywood who packed up a duffle bag and rode a bus to L.A. so they could wait tables (if they're lucky) and go to two hundred auditions before finally landing a part as Kevin Spacey's waiter - they're just fools. Anyone with a brain knows that the only way you become successful in entertainment is to surf the internet and do nothing until someone knocks on your door and asks you to present your talent. It's got nothing to do with struggle or ability. You just have to wait your turn.
Yes, I'm being sarcastic. Aren't you used to that by now?
There is no entitlement in show business. Maybe in Toledo you can get a job selling cars because your dad owns the dealership, or you can get promoted quicker than the other junior executives if your family's name is on the building, but entertainment is all about money. Either you sell product or you don't.
Everyone wants IN... or is it OUT? I guess it depends on where you are. You want OUT of your small town. You want OUT of your crappy job. You want IN to the elite status of being considered a person worth paying attention to. But, you're not ENTITLED to it, no matter who you are. Even Julian Lennon has to live by album sales and chart numbers.
I am reminded of the story of the struggle of actress/heiress Tori Spelling. Tori rarely saw her parents, because it's hard to locate people in a 110-room Bel Air mansion. The fact that her stinking rich father could afford to hire legal U.S. citizens to work in the house made Tori's search for family members that much more difficult. You can imagine what a sad little girl she must've been.
At age 17, Tori decided she wanted to be an actress. She heard about this new TV show starting up about a group of kids in a Beverly Hills high school (I don't know how EXACTLY she heard about it) and decided to audition for one of the main roles, even though she had almost no acting experience. Wanting to make it on her own, Tori decided that she would change her name so that she would be judged solely on her talent (she changed her name to Lori Spelling). She wanted to be considered just another struggling actress. So, she took her private limo to the audition and stood there in front of the show's creator (her father), development execs from the production company (Mom, Uncle Larry, Aunt Suzanne) and executives from the network (friends of her father who watched her grow up) and auditioned just like everyone else. And - miracle upon miracles - she got the part, and it was all because she believed in herself and let her talent shine. As she was sitting in her hot tub that night, she thought about all the struggles and how it had been worth it. Two years later, her father created a new show and her younger brother scored a part on it, but the show only lasted about six episodes. Tori's show lasted nine years.
Some of you are at a crucial point in your lives right now, wondering if these Hollywood dreams are worth all the suffering. If you're about to give up, I want you to think of Tori Spelling. If you have to make a few sacrifices for your dream, it's just what you have to do - just make the best of it. If you have to sleep in your car for a little while, make sure you buy the big Lamborghini so you have room to spread out.
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