Look. I love reality television. I do. I watch a number of shows that I admit to, and a number of shows that I hide like a heroin habit. However, I do so knowing one simple fact: ain't nothin' real about it. At the very least, the observer effect states that being watched changes the behavior of the observed. This is why contestants on the Amazing Race check their lip gloss before wading through a vat of cow manure to find a marble. On the other end of the reality spectrum (or as I like to call it, Rock of Love-ism)people will do pretty much anything to be on television. Play football in the mud in bikinis, tattoo the name of a person they've never met on their bodies, and the list goes on. Not that I've. Ever. Watched. Rock of Love.
Anyway, it's all in good fun and in the name of entertainment, so we suspend our disbelief for an hour and watch voraciously. The supreme ruler of all reality television is the talent contest. In the United States, American Idol enthralls us with its wealth of talented kids with back stories that make us cry and root for them. Or you know, point and laugh. There are other shows, but this one is by far the most popular. In England, AI's Simon Cowell has created a number of televised talent competitions, one of them being Britain's Got Talent. The "talent" is more on the order of the old Gong Show than American Idol, with contestants performing all sorts of "talents" to move through the competition. There are of course singers as well,and that is where we come to Season Three and Ms. Susan Boyle.
In case you have been living under a rock, Susan Boyle is a frumpy 47 year old self proclaimed virgin who has always dreamed of being a singer. Her dream was thwarted because her invalid mother needed caring for, and so Susan long ago said goodbye to music and lived her life as a caretaker. Until now. In dramatic fashion, Boyle was trotted onto the stage to the agape mouths of judgmental audience members and pithy stoic judges only to open her mouth and sing a perfectly lovely version of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables. The audience awash in tears in regret of their dismissal of Boyle jumped to their feet and applauded. Mean old Simon Cowell burst into a smile heralding Boyle as the next pop sensation, while immediately locking her down to a recording contract with Syco Records, his Sony imprint. A story of great inspiration to all.
Except it isn't. Now understand, my problem with this isn't about Susan Boyle, really. While I am certainly "hatin'" as one of my friends put it, I'm not really hating on Boyle. The media, particularly in inspiration starved America, have jumped all over this story. Every media outlet from the legitimate news to the tabloids have reported Boyle's "never been kissed" story (which by the way, she quickly dismissed as being blown out of proportion. Hey, honey, YOU said it).They have discussed the hardship of her life taking care of her mother from the 90's until 2007. Most importantly, they just can't understand how such a global treasure could have been hidden from view for so long. I mean, EVEN SIMON COWELL'S legendary face of stone broke into a toothy grin as she was singing.
Except that every aspect of this story is contrived and carved for maximum drama. Was Susan Boyle a caretaker for her sick mother? Yes. Has she actually avoided being kissed for 47 years? No. Does she possess a better than average vocal talent? Yes. Is it so remarkable as to seem otherworldly? No. Was the audience legitimately surprised by that voice coming from that mouth? Probably. Was Simon Cowell? No. Because he auditioned her. No. Folks, she was picked to be on Britain's Got Talent because she is not pretty to look at. Accept it. Understand it. If this woman looked like Eliza Dushku, she would never have gotten a second glance for THIS PARTICULAR OUTLET. BGT is a freakshow, no more, no less. Hey, and if it gets the lady some fame, which she clearly wants, then good on her. But don't try and sell her to me as an inspiration. Because there is nothing inspiring about Simon Cowell going for maximum shock value in getting a dowdy middle aged woman with a partially fictitious backstory who happens to be able to sing. That, my friends, is television... and Simon Cowell is one of the best in the business at manipulating his audience. If you don't believe me, ask Taylor Hicks.
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