Ellen Leventry: August 2007 Archives

As a child, I remember hearing adults talk about the day JFK was shot, recounting with vivid detail where they were when they heard the news. I knew, even as a child, that the death of the president had been a historic tagedy, but sensed that there was an emotional resonance I couldn’t connect with; a personal aspect that I couldn't quite grasp. Later, I learned that many people of that generation shared a common sorrow over idealism and hope they felt died that day in Dallas. And yet, it seemed that my generation had never experienced such a visceral, unifying, moment.

Other than distinctly recalling laying on my living room’s shag carpet watching television when I heard about the U.S. bombing of Libya in 1986, I don’t remember where I was during many of the great breaking news stories of the last three decades. But I can describe to you in exhaustive detail where I was the night Diana died, though I won’t. Simply put, I was staying at a friend’s apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn, watching "Saturday Night Live" (Spice Girls were the guests that night).

At that point, Diana had been rushed to the hospital and had not yet passed away, but I still felt this immense despondency. I was never a devoted royals watcher, so the reaction confused me. But I stood vigil at the television, taking in every iota of information. This is, I thought to myself, my JFK moment.

I am not easily offended or disgusted by the media. I peruse US Weekly, regularly log on to TMZ.com, and love reality television. Admittedly, I feel an impish glee when I see on the cover of Star or The Enquirer that celebrities have cellulite, too. But the suicide attempt of comedic actor Owen Wilson is not cellulite or celebutantes gone wild--and the press has officially crossed the taste line.

My colleague Esther Kustanowitz wrote yesterday that what she is taking away from this macabre blitzkrieg is that "this is yet another illustration of a simple fact of celebrity culture: A person is not always who they are on-screen--that even if someone seems relatable on screen, or seems raucously hilarious and fun loving, there is likely another side you can't see, and might not want to see."

But, I would argue that statement applies to everyone, not just celebrities. The funny guy in the cubicle next to you, the peppy aerobics instructor, the "put-together" executive you admire, they all could be harboring the illness dubbed the Noonday Demon.

There’s this reality show in which 12-15 year olds are sent out to a remote location to use their survival skills to win physical and mental challenges, expel other contestants, and work toward winning a grand prize.

You could be forgiven for thinking I'm describing the recently lambasted "Kid Nation," airing on CBS beginning September 19, but you would be a wrong. The afore-described show is called "Endurance" and is a three time Daytime Emmy Award-nominee on Discovery Kids.

I first caught an episode of "Endurance" maybe four or five years ago randomly flipping through Saturday morning programming. I was intrigued by this kiddie "Survivor" and was amazed at the strenuous challenges these kids undertook in order to win their families luxury vacations.

So, when I saw advertisements for and heard early scuttlebutt about CBS's "Kid Nation," I was curious to see what this primetime "Lord of the Flies" was all about. Would William F. Golding's classic make great reality TV? Absolutely. Just look at "Survivor." But, would audiences buy a literal interpretation of the story, with actual children trying for 40 days to make a New Mexico ghost town into a community without any adult supervision? Now that I wasn't so sure about.

Is Time Magazine trying to make sublimal suggestions about its recent coverboy the Reverend Billy Graham? The question comes from none other than celebrity gossip website TMZ.com.

"Rev. Billy Graham's cover photo for Time magazine is innocent enough in and of itself," the site notes, "but when you look at it superimposed over the Time logo, it looks like someone drew devil's horns on him."

Perhaps, the site surmises, someone at the magazine was trying to pass judgement on the "Pastor to Power" in the same way Graham once cited AIDS as a "judgement from God"--a statement, the site points out, that was not included in the cover story, but which, the site fails to report, Graham vehemently retracted.

Personally, I think TMZ is trying a little too hard to see what they want to see. I mean, it's beyond obvious that those are meant to be horse ears and not devil horns. Someone needs to get their glasses checked.

Take the Reverend Graham Rorschach test and see for yourself.

Summertime is a time for rashes--poison ivy, heat rash--but this summer there's been a rash of religion on reality shows. Why, just in the last week alone I've seen a group of former boy band members go through a Native American blessing ceremony on VH1's "Mission: Manband" and watched a real estate speculator perform a house-selling blessing ceremony and declare, straight-faced, that a newly purchased home needs an exorcism on Bravo's "Flipping Out."

Then there's a man calling himself "Mr. Mitzvah" who recently rode the world's scariest roller coaster to impress Stan Lee on SciFi's "Who Wants to Be a Superhero?" (He later got booted.) And finally there's the "Big Brother" brouhaha brought about by contestent Amber's anti-semitic remarks on the show's live web feed.

Remember a few weeks ago when I was waxing poetic about how art is supposed to provoke, as well as inspire? Well, the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, the 60-year-old mother of all other fringe theater festivals, is providing plenty of provocation...

This summer, Wednesday night is reality TV night for my digital video recorder, committing to memory both "So You Think You Can Dance" and "Top Chef" for my later consumption. Usually "Top Chef" serves up the drama with the delicious...