INTRODUCTION
IDOL DREAMS
Damn, I shouldn’t have slept so long, is my first thought when I see the size of the line, which is already the width of a boxcar and the length of an aircraft carrier. It is early in the morning and cold. Many of my line mates have blankets and a diminishing food supply. It is clear they have been here for a very long time.
The people in the line come in three categories: teenager, young adult and parent. The last category is, by far, the smallest. And its members are invariably attached to someone from the first category. This makes me an oddball. As far as I can tell, I am the only solo, middle-aged man. I try to look confident and purposeful, as if I am here for some very specific and important reason, but I am sure I look mostly awkward and out of place.
“What are you doing here?” a young woman asks me through a big friendly smile. She is dressed in an outfit that gives her the appearance of someone who just walked off the set of a Mötley Crüe video, circa 1987.
I want to say, “Making a complete fool of myself,” especially since I am in serious need of caffeine and do not feel particularly chatty. Instead I offer an ambiguous, “I’m not really sure.”
“What are your goals?” I ask the woman, who goes by the not-uncool moniker Shakespeare Sunday.
“I want to make it. And this seems a good place to start,” she replies. “American Idol needs a rock star!” All of the people within earshot of this last comment raise their arms and let out a loud “Wooooooo!” It is as if this group of strangers had rehearsed the moment, which ended in high-fives and fist bumps.
Ms. Sunday hands me her smartphone and invites me to listen to a recording of her work, which is much better than I expected—though I am not sure what I expected. Before the song finishes, Ms. Sunday (I just can’t bring myself to call her Shakespeare) notices a commotion down the line and abruptly ends our exchange. She pushes herself toward the edge of the line, grooming herself as she goes. Ms. Sunday has spotted a TV camera.
A man with a microphone is interviewing people in the line, asking them about their hometown, what makes them special and, of course, if they are the next American Idol. As the camera crew tracks the lineup, a wave of preening and posing moves with it. The criteria for selection as an interviewee seem straightforward: those selected are attractive and/or there is something distinctive about their appearance. My new friend, Ms. Sunday, is among the chosen. She satisfies both requirements, but mostly the latter.
I am not (at least currently) a singer and I do not have any plans to become one. My voice is terrible. Fortunately, my future does not depend on it. I am a university professor who has spent the last twenty years researching and writing about the health policy implications of things like genetics, stem cell research, obesity, health care reform and personalized medicine. So what the heck am I doing at an American Idol audition? Well, I hope to audition! And why do I want to audition? Because I want to learn more about and get as close as I can to the phenomenon of celebrity. And nothing represents celebrity culture better than American Idol.
Over the past few decades, celebrity culture’s grip on our society has tightened. This is a truism. I don’t need to convince anyone that we live in the age of celebrity. Yes, celebrities have been part of the cultural landscape for most of human history. From Alexander the Great to Lord Byron, a fascination with the famous has always been with us. But never has celebrity culture played such a dominant role in so many aspects of our lives. As we will see, it has a measurable influence on individual health care decisions, on the things we do to stay healthy, on how we view ourselves physically, on the material goods we want to possess and on our future career aspirations. Whether we like it or not, celebrity culture has a profound impact on our world, framing how we think about important issues and even influencing how we view our place in the universe. But this is not a book about celebrity culture—many interesting and thoughtful treatises already exist on the nature and causes of our obsession with famous people. Rather, in this book I analyze and debunk the messages and promises—implicit and explicit—that flow from the celebrity realm, be they about health, diet, beauty, our ambitions or what is supposed to make us happy.
Many definitions of celebrity culture have been proposed. For this book I am interested in our preoccupation with and the value we attach to celebrity lifestyles and to celebrities themselves—whether in the realm of movies, music or sports— and all the industries and social structures that create and sustain them. Celebrity culture is often blamed for the dumbing down of our social discourse, but less has been said about how it is a source of misinformation. Indeed, celebrity culture has emerged as one of the most significant and influential sources of pseudoscientific baloney. It fills our cultural landscape with notions ranging from those that are patently absurd and widely mocked (such as Simon Cowell’s hiring of a psychic “house healer” to exorcise his home of “negative energy”) to those that gain substantial social traction and market appeal. The popularity of juicing, cleanses, detox diets, weird exercise routines and a boatload of beauty and anti-aging products and practices can be linked directly to celebrity endorsements. Think, for example, of Katy Perry and Hilary Swank’s advocacy on behalf of vitamins, Gwyneth Paltrow’s enthusiasm for colon cleanses and a gluten-free diet, Jennifer Aniston’s ballyhooed belief in water cures, or just about every celebrity’s advice on how to lose weight.
Looking at these health and well-being issues through the lens of celebrity culture may seem frivolous. But we should not underestimate the impact celebrities can have on our preferences and attitudes—which is, of course, why they are so frequently paid millions of dollars by advertisers to move product. Specific examples abound. Angelina Jolie’s revelation that genetic testing precipitated her decision to have a preventative mastectomy resulted in an immediate increase in demand for both genetic testing and preventative mastectomies. Similarly, and perhaps more damagingly, images of celebrities smoking—in film, on TV shows and in magazines—are linked to an increase in cigarette consumption. The celebrity trend for using beautifying and rejuvenating vitamin intravenous therapy has reportedly caused a shortage of critical medical supplies. Ill-informed celebrity statements about the alleged risks associated with vaccines (most notably by Jenny McCarthy) have adversely impacted public dialogue on the value of vaccines. And, most disturbingly, reports of celebrity suicides are associated with an increase in suicide in the general public. I could go on and on and on.
It has been suggested that humans are evolutionarily wired to follow and, perhaps, be influenced by people they look up to. Many species, including other primates, carefully watch dominant individuals within their group. Evolutionary psychologists have speculated that this tendency evolved as part of a package of innate predispositions that allow humans to learn from successful role models. The process happens unconsciously. While this propensity may have helped prehistoric huntergatherers to acquire useful bits of knowledge and skill, in the context of modern society, following Gwyneth Paltrow’s health advice or coveting Kim Kardashian’s life provides little benefit. In fact, in the pages that follow I will argue that celebrity culture has emerged as one of our society’s most pernicious forces, contributing to, among other things, poor health decisions, wasted investments in useless beauty and fitness products, a decreased understanding of how science works, and increased dissatisfaction with our appearance and, perhaps, our lives.
Of course, the impact of celebrity culture reaches well beyond the areas of health and beauty. Increasingly, becoming a celebrity or obtaining a celebrity lifestyle is viewed as a reasonable and obtainable life goal. Even President Obama has commented on the trend. In a 2013 interview he suggested that the constant exposure to “the lifestyles of the rich and famous” has caused “a shift in culture.” In the past, “kids weren’t monitoring every day what Kim Kardashian was wearing, or where Kanye West was going on vacation, and thinking that somehow that was the mark of success,” President Obama said. These comments are both unusual (how many times has the leader of the free world taken time to speculate about the social impact of a reality TV star?) and correct.
As we will see in the chapters to follow, ample evidence supports Obama’s observations. Survey research from the United States has revealed that becoming famous is now viewed as a key part of the American Dream. And numerous studies have found that becoming a celebrity—or gaining success in a celebrity-oriented profession such as singing, acting or sports—has emerged as the primary aspiration of a substantial segment of the population. Social media has played a significant role in this development, by bringing celebrities closer to the public and multiplying the opportunities to make social comparisons. The celebrity life seems real, awesome and accessible. One recent study, published in 2013, found that social media interactions with celebrities, particularly through Twitter, allow fans to feel that they have an “authentic” relationship with their idols. They have the sense, rightly or not, that the interactions are real, which in turn leads them to become more “involved and invested in celebrities’ lives.”
The central goal of this book is simple: to get to the truth about the claims that flow from celebrity culture, be they about the diets that purport to make us thin, the anti-aging products that will keep us forever youthful and wrinkle free, or the actions that we are told we should take, like auditioning for American Idol, to propel us into the realm of celebrity. I seek to separate sense from nonsense and provide useable and evidence-informed advice about the strategies that actually work and those that are a complete waste of money and time. I look at everything from vitamins and organic food to gluten-free diets and the chance of making it big as an actor, musician or professional athlete. I also explore the impact of celebrity culture on things like body image, the use of cosmetic surgery and unhealthy behaviors, such as smoking and sunbathing. I examine what it is like to be a celebrity, as well as the social and biological forces that seem to compel many of us to “reach for the stars.”
To this end I have deployed a range of traditional scholarly methods, including analyzing the best-available scientific data and interviewing renowned academic and clinical experts. But I have also tried to gain an understanding of various aspects of the celebrity universe and its social impact by interacting with actors, musicians and even porn stars. To put my research in context, I tried celebrity-recommended beauty routines and diets. I signed on with a modeling agency and went to a modeling competition in New York. And I have tried to immerse myself in the celebrity-oriented media. For example, I followed celebrity Twitter feeds, read gossip blogs and forced myself to read every issue— cover to cover—of the world’s most popular celebrity-oriented publication, People magazine, for an entire year.
The book is organized into three sections, one focusing on health and beauty, one on celebrity ambition, and one on the nature of celebrity life. These sections roughly correspond to the cumulative effect of three celebrity-driven illusions. Part 1 explores the first illusion, which is that celebrity culture embodies a real, achievable and desirable ideal of health and beauty, and confers on celebrities the authority to impart health and beauty advice. Part 2 addresses the second illusion, that the status of celebrity can (and should) be achieved by anyone who dreams/ works/believes in him- or herself with sufficient intensity. This is an illusion I witnessed firsthand at the American Idol audition and, as we will see, is central to the role celebrity culture plays in our lives. The final illusion, and the subject of Part 3, is that celebrities lead the happiest, most desirable, most fulfilled lives.
A few words about tone: This book is not meant to mock those who enjoy popular culture or follow celebrities. On the contrary, I love celebrity culture. I always have. Indeed, my interest in celebrity culture is one reason I wanted to write this book. When I play Trivial Pursuit, the only questions I can reliably answer are the ones from the entertainment category. Each award season, without any effort, I somehow become aware of all the nominees for the Golden Globes, the Grammys, and, of course, the Oscars. I even have a vague knowledge of the celebrities in the running for a People’s Choice Award. It is as if the names of the nominees are implanted in my brain as I sleep. I probably know more about Pamela Anderson and Gwyneth Paltrow than about Albert Einstein, Albert Camus or, for that matter, Albert my neighbor. So, if you love and follow celebrity culture, this book is for you.
I am also not going to try to deny or minimize the power of celebrity. Being near the very famous does create an odd, unquantifiable electricity. I felt it myself when, in order to get into the swing of things, I attended the Hollywood premiere of the movie This Is the End, starring James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill and Emma Watson. I don’t mean that I was invited to attend the premiere or to interview the stars. No, I stood outside the theater with hordes of screaming fans waiting for the stars to be delivered in big black limos. At first, I tried to fool myself into believing that I was there as an academic, an impartial observer. I was Jane Goodall in the Hollywood jungle. But as each limo pulled up I got progressively more into it, standing on my tippy toes to see who would emerge from the vehicle.
“Is that James?” I asked no one in particular. It was not. I sighed along with my neighbors. “Oh! It’s nobody!”
We all hoped the stars would come to our corner of the line. So we would yell things like “Emma! Emma! Over here!” It didn’t work. Pencil-thin Emma Watson waved in our direction but did not stop. But normal-size Seth Rogen did. Indeed, I swear that Seth and I had a moment, locking eyes in a kind of friendly, if silent, Canadian-to-Canadian exchange.
“Seth seems like a nice guy,” I said to the guy standing next to me. How the hell would I know that? And why did I want to tell a stranger?
So it’s true: celebrities have the capacity to cast a spell on us all. Celebrity culture really is, as the research tells us, a tremendously powerful force. Given this reality, this book is also relevant for those of you who hate celebrity culture—and I know you are out there because I heard from many of you while I was writing about it. If you are looking for further reason to be skeptical of celebrity culture and its impact on our society, the pages that follow will provide you with an abundance of science-informed ammunition.
Shows like American Idol leverage this fascination with celebrities and our desire to reap the rewards of celebrity status. Indeed, the promise of becoming a celebrity is the unspoken reward for participating on the show. Hence, my decision to start our journey at an American Idol audition.
The massive line of wannabes moves much faster than I expect. American Idol is an efficient machine, processing participants like a factory farm processes chickens. Today is only the registration phase. If I satisfy some basic criteria, I will get a wristband that allows me to audition tomorrow morning.
The rules state that I must be an American citizen. Check. A person must not have done well on a previous American Idol season. Check. I must not have a current recording contract. Check. I must not have a close personal or family relationship with the company that owns American Idol. Check. And I must be between the ages of 15 and 28. Okay, this last requirement could prove to be a challenge.
Still, I have taken this audition seriously. If given the opportunity, I intend to sing “Lost in the Supermarket,” by The Clash. Over the past few weeks I have rehearsed a slightly jazzy version of the song in front of my kids, who invariably give me severe Simon Cowell-ish feedback. “Terrible.” “Out of tune.” “What key was that?” But despite their harsh reviews, I feel that I’ve prepared a unique and only marginally embarrassing audition piece. I am ready for my chance!
All of the American Idol employees wear pale-blue T-shirts embossed with the show’s logo and headsets attached to walkietalkie devices. One of them escorts me to a table where a woman will decide if I can move on to the next phase of the competition. The woman, who is young enough to be a contestant, looks me up and down and I can tell by her you-have-got-to-be-kidding smile and the tilt of her head that her decision has been made. But before she can announce her verdict I launch into a plea.
“Look, I know I am a bit too old,” I say quickly.
She grimaces. “A bit?”
“But I really want to do this and I’ve got a great song prepared!”
Seeing that I am getting nowhere and fearing that I am going to be tossed out, I relent and tell her about my book project. To my surprise, she seems intrigued. After I make my case to the on-site producer, the Idol team agrees to let me come back tomorrow. I can’t audition, but I can hang with the contestants. Good enough. My jazzy punk styling will need to wait for another day.
I arrive back at the American Idol auditions the next morning just as the contestants are gathering under a TV camera attached to the end of a massive boom. The camera swings over the crowd, generating screams and the waving of signs informing the world that the holder has “Got It” and we should “Look No Further,” or, of course, that he or she is the “Next American Idol.” The scene is repeated again and again as an Idol employee with a megaphone calls for more enthusiasm with each pass of the camera.
Currently in its thirteenth season, American Idol has developed into a true cultural phenomenon. Tens of thousands of individuals have auditioned for the show. From 2003 to 2011 it was the highest rated show on TV. It is, quite simply, the most popular show of the last decade. Some episodes have attracted nearly forty million viewers. While it has lost momentum over the past few seasons, in 2013 it was still ranked as the seventh most watched regularly scheduled program on TV. And its influence has led to the introduction of other reach-for-the-starsand-become-a-celebrity shows, such as America’s Got Talent, The X Factor, The Voice and So You Think You Can Dance.
It is no surprise, then, that so many view Idol as a vehicle they can ride to superstardom. As I mingle and chat with the contestants, I hear this theme again and again. “Singing is everything,” one teenage girl tells me. She is standing alone at the edge of the crowd, wearing a baggie hoodie and jeans, her long hair obscuring much of her face. She views the show as her best chance at fame and fortune because, as she explains, she has “never had any money.” As a child she was abused, so when she becomes a star (she tells this in a matter-of-fact tone that suggests she is certain this will happen) she intends to “help the less fortunate.” A weak “good luck” is all I can muster in the face of her puzzling optimism.
I chat with many contestants who have been to multiple auditions. One girl with bright-red hair has auditioned five times, never making it past the first round. “Just nerves,” she explains. Another, a fifteen-year-old who informs me that “this is her dream” and “something she has wanted her whole life,” just finished competing on the rival TV show, The X Factor.
While a few people say their expectations are modest, and are auditioning merely for the experience, the vast majority seem to be swinging for the fences. Big-time fame is the goal. They tell me that you must “reach for the stars” and “hold on to your dreams” and “continue to believe” and that singing is “the number-one priority in life.”
Then a strange thing happens. I look up from my notepad and find a small crowd gathering around me—a tight semicircle of smiling contestants eager to be interviewed. Some are throwing my way bits of biographical information about their age, their experience and their multiple talents. It occurs to me that they think I am from a reputable newspaper or magazine, but my explanation that I am working on a book project does little to dampen the enthusiasm. Everyone wants to be interviewed. They want exposure. Just when I start to worry that my little scrum might get out of hand I am saved by none other than Ryan Seacrest.
“Who is ready to change their life today?” Seacrest screams. “Is the next American Idol here?” Everyone goes berserk.
Seacrest moves through the crowd, a camera crew recording his genial interactions with the contestants. He comes closer and closer to my position. And just when it seems possible that he is going to back into me, I make a fatal mistake. I take out my phone and snap a few pictures. Who can blame me? It’s Ryan Seacrest! He is so close I could touch his perfectly coiffed hair.
A headset-wearing Idol employee taps me on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she says, “but you don’t belong here.”
INTRODUCTION
IDOL DREAMS
Damn, I shouldn’t have slept so long, is my first thought when I see the size of the line, which is already the width of a boxcar and the length of an aircraft carrier. It is early in the morning and cold. Many of my line mates have blankets and a diminishing food supply. It is clear they have been here for a very long time.
The people in the line come in three categories: teenager, young adult and parent. The last category is, by far, the smallest. And its members are invariably attached to someone from the first category. This makes me an oddball. As far as I can tell, I am the only solo, middle-aged man. I try to look confident and purposeful, as if I am here for some very specific and important reason, but I am sure I look mostly awkward and out of place.
“What are you doing here?” a young woman asks me through a big friendly smile. She is dressed in an outfit that gives her the appearance of someone who just walked off the set of a Mötley Crüe video, circa 1987.
I want to say, “Making a complete fool of myself,” especially since I am in serious need of caffeine and do not feel particularly chatty. Instead I offer an ambiguous, “I’m not really sure.”
“What are your goals?” I ask the woman, who goes by the not-uncool moniker Shakespeare Sunday.
“I want to make it. And this seems a good place to start,” she replies. “American Idol needs a rock star!” All of the people within earshot of this last comment raise their arms and let out a loud “Wooooooo!” It is as if this group of strangers had rehearsed the moment, which ended in high-fives and fist bumps.
Ms. Sunday hands me her smartphone and invites me to listen to a recording of her work, which is much better than I expected—though I am not sure what I expected. Before the song finishes, Ms. Sunday (I just can’t bring myself to call her Shakespeare) notices a commotion down the line and abruptly ends our exchange. She pushes herself toward the edge of the line, grooming herself as she goes. Ms. Sunday has spotted a TV camera.
A man with a microphone is interviewing people in the line, asking them about their hometown, what makes them special and, of course, if they are the next American Idol. As the camera crew tracks the lineup, a wave of preening and posing moves with it. The criteria for selection as an interviewee seem straightforward: those selected are attractive and/or there is something distinctive about their appearance. My new friend, Ms. Sunday, is among the chosen. She satisfies both requirements, but mostly the latter.
I am not (at least currently) a singer and I do not have any plans to become one. My voice is terrible. Fortunately, my future does not depend on it. I am a university professor who has spent the last twenty years researching and writing about the health policy implications of things like genetics, stem cell research, obesity, health care reform and personalized medicine. So what the heck am I doing at an American Idol audition? Well, I hope to audition! And why do I want to audition? Because I want to learn more about and get as close as I can to the phenomenon of celebrity. And nothing represents celebrity culture better than American Idol.
Over the past few decades, celebrity culture’s grip on our society has tightened. This is a truism. I don’t need to convince anyone that we live in the age of celebrity. Yes, celebrities have been part of the cultural landscape for most of human history. From Alexander the Great to Lord Byron, a fascination with the famous has always been with us. But never has celebrity culture played such a dominant role in so many aspects of our lives. As we will see, it has a measurable influence on individual health care decisions, on the things we do to stay healthy, on how we view ourselves physically, on the material goods we want to possess and on our future career aspirations. Whether we like it or not, celebrity culture has a profound impact on our world, framing how we think about important issues and even influencing how we view our place in the universe. But this is not a book about celebrity culture—many interesting and thoughtful treatises already exist on the nature and causes of our obsession with famous people. Rather, in this book I analyze and debunk the messages and promises—implicit and explicit—that flow from the celebrity realm, be they about health, diet, beauty, our ambitions or what is supposed to make us happy.
Many definitions of celebrity culture have been proposed. For this book I am interested in our preoccupation with and the value we attach to celebrity lifestyles and to celebrities themselves—whether in the realm of movies, music or sports— and all the industries and social structures that create and sustain them. Celebrity culture is often blamed for the dumbing down of our social discourse, but less has been said about how it is a source of misinformation. Indeed, celebrity culture has emerged as one of the most significant and influential sources of pseudoscientific baloney. It fills our cultural landscape with notions ranging from those that are patently absurd and widely mocked (such as Simon Cowell’s hiring of a psychic “house healer” to exorcise his home of “negative energy”) to those that gain substantial social traction and market appeal. The popularity of juicing, cleanses, detox diets, weird exercise routines and a boatload of beauty and anti-aging products and practices can be linked directly to celebrity endorsements. Think, for example, of Katy Perry and Hilary Swank’s advocacy on behalf of vitamins, Gwyneth Paltrow’s enthusiasm for colon cleanses and a gluten-free diet, Jennifer Aniston’s ballyhooed belief in water cures, or just about every celebrity’s advice on how to lose weight.
Looking at these health and well-being issues through the lens of celebrity culture may seem frivolous. But we should not underestimate the impact celebrities can have on our preferences and attitudes—which is, of course, why they are so frequently paid millions of dollars by advertisers to move product. Specific examples abound. Angelina Jolie’s revelation that genetic testing precipitated her decision to have a preventative mastectomy resulted in an immediate increase in demand for both genetic testing and preventative mastectomies. Similarly, and perhaps more damagingly, images of celebrities smoking—in film, on TV shows and in magazines—are linked to an increase in cigarette consumption. The celebrity trend for using beautifying and rejuvenating vitamin intravenous therapy has reportedly caused a shortage of critical medical supplies. Ill-informed celebrity statements about the alleged risks associated with vaccines (most notably by Jenny McCarthy) have adversely impacted public dialogue on the value of vaccines. And, most disturbingly, reports of celebrity suicides are associated with an increase in suicide in the general public. I could go on and on and on.
It has been suggested that humans are evolutionarily wired to follow and, perhaps, be influenced by people they look up to. Many species, including other primates, carefully watch dominant individuals within their group. Evolutionary psychologists have speculated that this tendency evolved as part of a package of innate predispositions that allow humans to learn from successful role models. The process happens unconsciously. While this propensity may have helped prehistoric huntergatherers to acquire useful bits of knowledge and skill, in the context of modern society, following Gwyneth Paltrow’s health advice or coveting Kim Kardashian’s life provides little benefit. In fact, in the pages that follow I will argue that celebrity culture has emerged as one of our society’s most pernicious forces, contributing to, among other things, poor health decisions, wasted investments in useless beauty and fitness products, a decreased understanding of how science works, and increased dissatisfaction with our appearance and, perhaps, our lives.
Of course, the impact of celebrity culture reaches well beyond the areas of health and beauty. Increasingly, becoming a celebrity or obtaining a celebrity lifestyle is viewed as a reasonable and obtainable life goal. Even President Obama has commented on the trend. In a 2013 interview he suggested that the constant exposure to “the lifestyles of the rich and famous” has caused “a shift in culture.” In the past, “kids weren’t monitoring every day what Kim Kardashian was wearing, or where Kanye West was going on vacation, and thinking that somehow that was the mark of success,” President Obama said. These comments are both unusual (how many times has the leader of the free world taken time to speculate about the social impact of a reality TV star?) and correct.
As we will see in the chapters to follow, ample evidence supports Obama’s observations. Survey research from the United States has revealed that becoming famous is now viewed as a key part of the American Dream. And numerous studies have found that becoming a celebrity—or gaining success in a celebrity-oriented profession such as singing, acting or sports—has emerged as the primary aspiration of a substantial segment of the population. Social media has played a significant role in this development, by bringing celebrities closer to the public and multiplying the opportunities to make social comparisons. The celebrity life seems real, awesome and accessible. One recent study, published in 2013, found that social media interactions with celebrities, particularly through Twitter, allow fans to feel that they have an “authentic” relationship with their idols. They have the sense, rightly or not, that the interactions are real, which in turn leads them to become more “involved and invested in celebrities’ lives.”
The central goal of this book is simple: to get to the truth about the claims that flow from celebrity culture, be they about the diets that purport to make us thin, the anti-aging products that will keep us forever youthful and wrinkle free, or the actions that we are told we should take, like auditioning for American Idol, to propel us into the realm of celebrity. I seek to separate sense from nonsense and provide useable and evidence-informed advice about the strategies that actually work and those that are a complete waste of money and time. I look at everything from vitamins and organic food to gluten-free diets and the chance of making it big as an actor, musician or professional athlete. I also explore the impact of celebrity culture on things like body image, the use of cosmetic surgery and unhealthy behaviors, such as smoking and sunbathing. I examine what it is like to be a celebrity, as well as the social and biological forces that seem to compel many of us to “reach for the stars.”
To this end I have deployed a range of traditional scholarly methods, including analyzing the best-available scientific data and interviewing renowned academic and clinical experts. But I have also tried to gain an understanding of various aspects of the celebrity universe and its social impact by interacting with actors, musicians and even porn stars. To put my research in context, I tried celebrity-recommended beauty routines and diets. I signed on with a modeling agency and went to a modeling competition in New York. And I have tried to immerse myself in the celebrity-oriented media. For example, I followed celebrity Twitter feeds, read gossip blogs and forced myself to read every issue— cover to cover—of the world’s most popular celebrity-oriented publication, People magazine, for an entire year.
The book is organized into three sections, one focusing on health and beauty, one on celebrity ambition, and one on the nature of celebrity life. These sections roughly correspond to the cumulative effect of three celebrity-driven illusions. Part 1 explores the first illusion, which is that celebrity culture embodies a real, achievable and desirable ideal of health and beauty, and confers on celebrities the authority to impart health and beauty advice. Part 2 addresses the second illusion, that the status of celebrity can (and should) be achieved by anyone who dreams/ works/believes in him- or herself with sufficient intensity. This is an illusion I witnessed firsthand at the American Idol audition and, as we will see, is central to the role celebrity culture plays in our lives. The final illusion, and the subject of Part 3, is that celebrities lead the happiest, most desirable, most fulfilled lives.
A few words about tone: This book is not meant to mock those who enjoy popular culture or follow celebrities. On the contrary, I love celebrity culture. I always have. Indeed, my interest in celebrity culture is one reason I wanted to write this book. When I play Trivial Pursuit, the only questions I can reliably answer are the ones from the entertainment category. Each award season, without any effort, I somehow become aware of all the nominees for the Golden Globes, the Grammys, and, of course, the Oscars. I even have a vague knowledge of the celebrities in the running for a People’s Choice Award. It is as if the names of the nominees are implanted in my brain as I sleep. I probably know more about Pamela Anderson and Gwyneth Paltrow than about Albert Einstein, Albert Camus or, for that matter, Albert my neighbor. So, if you love and follow celebrity culture, this book is for you.
I am also not going to try to deny or minimize the power of celebrity. Being near the very famous does create an odd, unquantifiable electricity. I felt it myself when, in order to get into the swing of things, I attended the Hollywood premiere of the movie This Is the End, starring James Franco, Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill and Emma Watson. I don’t mean that I was invited to attend the premiere or to interview the stars. No, I stood outside the theater with hordes of screaming fans waiting for the stars to be delivered in big black limos. At first, I tried to fool myself into believing that I was there as an academic, an impartial observer. I was Jane Goodall in the Hollywood jungle. But as each limo pulled up I got progressively more into it, standing on my tippy toes to see who would emerge from the vehicle.
“Is that James?” I asked no one in particular. It was not. I sighed along with my neighbors. “Oh! It’s nobody!”
We all hoped the stars would come to our corner of the line. So we would yell things like “Emma! Emma! Over here!” It didn’t work. Pencil-thin Emma Watson waved in our direction but did not stop. But normal-size Seth Rogen did. Indeed, I swear that Seth and I had a moment, locking eyes in a kind of friendly, if silent, Canadian-to-Canadian exchange.
“Seth seems like a nice guy,” I said to the guy standing next to me. How the hell would I know that? And why did I want to tell a stranger?
So it’s true: celebrities have the capacity to cast a spell on us all. Celebrity culture really is, as the research tells us, a tremendously powerful force. Given this reality, this book is also relevant for those of you who hate celebrity culture—and I know you are out there because I heard from many of you while I was writing about it. If you are looking for further reason to be skeptical of celebrity culture and its impact on our society, the pages that follow will provide you with an abundance of science-informed ammunition.
Shows like American Idol leverage this fascination with celebrities and our desire to reap the rewards of celebrity status. Indeed, the promise of becoming a celebrity is the unspoken reward for participating on the show. Hence, my decision to start our journey at an American Idol audition.
The massive line of wannabes moves much faster than I expect. American Idol is an efficient machine, processing participants like a factory farm processes chickens. Today is only the registration phase. If I satisfy some basic criteria, I will get a wristband that allows me to audition tomorrow morning.
The rules state that I must be an American citizen. Check. A person must not have done well on a previous American Idol season. Check. I must not have a current recording contract. Check. I must not have a close personal or family relationship with the company that owns American Idol. Check. And I must be between the ages of 15 and 28. Okay, this last requirement could prove to be a challenge.
Still, I have taken this audition seriously. If given the opportunity, I intend to sing “Lost in the Supermarket,” by The Clash. Over the past few weeks I have rehearsed a slightly jazzy version of the song in front of my kids, who invariably give me severe Simon Cowell-ish feedback. “Terrible.” “Out of tune.” “What key was that?” But despite their harsh reviews, I feel that I’ve prepared a unique and only marginally embarrassing audition piece. I am ready for my chance!
All of the American Idol employees wear pale-blue T-shirts embossed with the show’s logo and headsets attached to walkietalkie devices. One of them escorts me to a table where a woman will decide if I can move on to the next phase of the competition. The woman, who is young enough to be a contestant, looks me up and down and I can tell by her you-have-got-to-be-kidding smile and the tilt of her head that her decision has been made. But before she can announce her verdict I launch into a plea.
“Look, I know I am a bit too old,” I say quickly.
She grimaces. “A bit?”
“But I really want to do this and I’ve got a great song prepared!”
Seeing that I am getting nowhere and fearing that I am going to be tossed out, I relent and tell her about my book project. To my surprise, she seems intrigued. After I make my case to the on-site producer, the Idol team agrees to let me come back tomorrow. I can’t audition, but I can hang with the contestants. Good enough. My jazzy punk styling will need to wait for another day.
I arrive back at the American Idol auditions the next morning just as the contestants are gathering under a TV camera attached to the end of a massive boom. The camera swings over the crowd, generating screams and the waving of signs informing the world that the holder has “Got It” and we should “Look No Further,” or, of course, that he or she is the “Next American Idol.” The scene is repeated again and again as an Idol employee with a megaphone calls for more enthusiasm with each pass of the camera.
Currently in its thirteenth season, American Idol has developed into a true cultural phenomenon. Tens of thousands of individuals have auditioned for the show. From 2003 to 2011 it was the highest rated show on TV. It is, quite simply, the most popular show of the last decade. Some episodes have attracted nearly forty million viewers. While it has lost momentum over the past few seasons, in 2013 it was still ranked as the seventh most watched regularly scheduled program on TV. And its influence has led to the introduction of other reach-for-the-starsand-become-a-celebrity shows, such as America’s Got Talent, The X Factor, The Voice and So You Think You Can Dance.
It is no surprise, then, that so many view Idol as a vehicle they can ride to superstardom. As I mingle and chat with the contestants, I hear this theme again and again. “Singing is everything,” one teenage girl tells me. She is standing alone at the edge of the crowd, wearing a baggie hoodie and jeans, her long hair obscuring much of her face. She views the show as her best chance at fame and fortune because, as she explains, she has “never had any money.” As a child she was abused, so when she becomes a star (she tells this in a matter-of-fact tone that suggests she is certain this will happen) she intends to “help the less fortunate.” A weak “good luck” is all I can muster in the face of her puzzling optimism.
I chat with many contestants who have been to multiple auditions. One girl with bright-red hair has auditioned five times, never making it past the first round. “Just nerves,” she explains. Another, a fifteen-year-old who informs me that “this is her dream” and “something she has wanted her whole life,” just finished competing on the rival TV show, The X Factor.
While a few people say their expectations are modest, and are auditioning merely for the experience, the vast majority seem to be swinging for the fences. Big-time fame is the goal. They tell me that you must “reach for the stars” and “hold on to your dreams” and “continue to believe” and that singing is “the number-one priority in life.”
Then a strange thing happens. I look up from my notepad and find a small crowd gathering around me—a tight semicircle of smiling contestants eager to be interviewed. Some are throwing my way bits of biographical information about their age, their experience and their multiple talents. It occurs to me that they think I am from a reputable newspaper or magazine, but my explanation that I am working on a book project does little to dampen the enthusiasm. Everyone wants to be interviewed. They want exposure. Just when I start to worry that my little scrum might get out of hand I am saved by none other than Ryan Seacrest.
“Who is ready to change their life today?” Seacrest screams. “Is the next American Idol here?” Everyone goes berserk.
Seacrest moves through the crowd, a camera crew recording his genial interactions with the contestants. He comes closer and closer to my position. And just when it seems possible that he is going to back into me, I make a fatal mistake. I take out my phone and snap a few pictures. Who can blame me? It’s Ryan Seacrest! He is so close I could touch his perfectly coiffed hair.
A headset-wearing Idol employee taps me on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she says, “but you don’t belong here.”
