Nathaniel

Shockey

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March 31, 2008

South Park Kills Britney Spears, While the Crowd Cheers Them On

South Park recently aired an episode titled “Britney’s New Look.” A brief synopsis: Paparazzi drive Britney Spears to the edge, and she proceeds to blow off most of her head with a shotgun, at which point everyone assumes she’s simply sporting a new look.

The boys try to hide Britney, but the paparazzi eventually find her and harass her until she dies, lying on the ground in the fetal position. Mr. Marsh, one of the adult characters, explains that the situation is no different than the way some ancient cultures dressed up beautiful young women and sacrificed them (see “The Rite of Spring”).

“Britney must die,” he explains. The end of the episode suggests that the next victim will be Miley Cyrus, also known as Hannah Montana.

The episode was never very funny. Actually, it was very hard to watch. And as far as I can see, the message was not at all far from the truth.

In Peter Jackson’s King Kong, playwright Jack Driscoll says about filmmaker Carl Denham, “That's the thing you come to learn about Carl, his undying ability to destroy the things he loves.” And you have to wonder about our society’s uncanny ability to destroy the things we, at one point, seemed to love.

W. H. Auden’s epic poem, “Horae Canonicae,” is devoted to the death of Christ, and one of the primary themes is the crowd, which shouted “Hosanna” on Palm Sunday and “Crucify Him!” seven days later.

“Joining the crowd is the only thing all men can do,” Auden says. He gives a haunting portrayal of an expressionless, silent mob, standing still, “a monster with one red eye.”

He writes:

“Not one can remember why he shouted or what about

So loudly in the sunshine this morning;

All if challenged would reply

‘It was the monster with one red eye,

A crowd that saw him die, not I.’”

One doesn’t have to follow celebrities around with a camera that flashes four pictures a second to contribute to the way we dehumanize everyone we envy. It’s more than a mere fascination with every misstep a celebrity makes. The process is much more than the ugly way we speculate who’s gay, who’s pregnant, who’s racist, whose had plastic surgery. It’s about the reverence, the worship, the “Hosannas” we silently utter when we sit at home, dreary-eyed, obsessive, telling ourselves that these people aren’t real.

It’s true that if you’re stupid enough to get famous, you ought to know what comes with it. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

I wonder if it is too late. Too late to slow down the insane amount of momentum attached to celebrity worship. Too late to find new sources of entertainment. Too late to bankrupt the industries bent on slandering, harassing and dehumanizing anyone worth a dirty nickel. Logic suggests that it’s never too late to divorce ourselves from the murderous crowd. But it’s hard to imagine.

It’s difficult to say what it will take for us to start seeing the Britney Spearses of the world as human again, if we’ll stop ourselves before it really is too late. It would be nice to think that we’ll prove the writers of South Park wrong and give Miley Cyrus a chance to be treated like a person. But we all know that’s not going to happen. We all know the crowd very well, and the truth is that in our society, it takes a certain kind of resilient, clear-headed celebrity to survive the tireless harassment.

We can only remind ourselves that celebrities are just humans with a talent that probably has less inherent value than a neighbor’s ability as an elementary school teacher. The solution to this horrendous condition can only begin with decisions made by individuals, not a crowd.

© 2008 North Star Writers Group. May not be republished without permission.

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