Wait, What? Feeling Bad for Celebrities?

This past week I went on a date. A unique type of date, for that matter. A date with my boyfriend's mom. I'll call his mom C for the purposes of this post. The plan was to see the documentary Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work. C showed up at the theater a half hour before the movie was supposed to start so she could purchase our tickets. About twenty-six minutes before the previews were set to begin, she called me.

"The movie's sold out. We have to pick something else."

"Um, are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, I just asked and they said there's not a seat left!"

"OK, but I'm not sure how that's possible," I began, the disappointment evident in my tone. "I mean, the movie came out almost a month ago, it's a WEDNESDAY NIGHT, why would it be so packed?"

I had waited for weeks to see this woman perform on the big screen, to gauge how much plastic surgery she had since the last time I watched her criticizing red carpet outfits on television.

"The theater where it's playing holds fourteen people," she replied, almost incredulously.

Fourteen people. Right. Because any public theater would have that few seats. But as we walked by that room on the way to another movie, I peered inside. Sure enough, there were only fourteen seats. Although I was so anxious to see the film that I was willing to sit on the floor, I knew that might not be the most appropriate suggestion for the occasion. Not everyone would like to listen to Rivers spewing obscenities with dropped popcorn embedded in their clothing. Perhaps I'm the only one.

After my disappointment, I was finally able to see the movie. Of course I had to wait three whole days until I was home in a different state and with my mom. The wait was painful but I survived.

When we arrived in the theater, I was shocked to see a completely different scene than I had expected: an extraordinarily large, completely empty theater! And as the opening scene flashed on screen, another unexpected scene: Rivers with no makeup on. None. Zilch. Nada. Not even a stroke of foundation. But, of course, we viewers didn't get to see her entire face as that could be too damaging to her image. We only caught pieces of it.

What's interesting, though, is that this one makeup-less scene seems to have foreshadowed what I was about to learn from the rest of the film. I know, I know, it seems silly that I would actually learn something from watching this vulgar creature's escapades from rural Wisconsin to fashionable neighborhoods in Los Angeles to her luxurious apartment in Manhattan.

But I did.

I realized that behind all that makeup lies an incredibly vulnerable woman. There hides an older lady who, even at seventy-five years of age, feels like she still has so much to accomplish in her life, that nothing in her career has been satisfactory enough to call it quits and retire like a normal person. She flaunts herself in the eye of the media, only to be judged, torn to shreds and judged again, just so that she will hopefully feel one day that she has accomplished something so large that she can finally consider herself a success.

I understand that it might seem strange that I'm siding with this successful woman who, as wealthy as she is, still chooses to present this unprotected side upon herself. But this movie made me consider anyone who's in the public eye.

Like just now, for example, I'll admit that I just clicked Perez Hilton's Twitter link to see what Lindsay Lohan's mugshot looks like. (I accidentally just typed "mugshit" and it seems like an appropriate Freudian slip here.) Not only is it pathetic that I'm looking at the mugshot of a girl who I don't even know, but what's worse is that she's having so many people look at it while she's also dealing with this situation on a personal level. People are judging her, they have since The Parent Trap, and they will for as long as she's exposed in the media. So for as much as she's messed up, and as many issues as she has, I almost feel a little sorry for her. What if my every move were scrutinized? What if I felt that I needed to have my life broadcasted throughout the world just to make myself feel successful? (OK, maybe in some twisted way I'm doing that now here...)

Anyway, I'm realizing that it's important to consider the flip side of fame: all of the negative ramifications that come along with it. Everyone has problems, but some of the biggest problems come to those like Joan or Lindsay who have decided to make their fame in front of anyone with a computer. It's times like these that I'm proud to be a nobody who's at home eating an ice cream pop in my pajamas.

XOXO,
R.