Idle worship

Strange things happen when we come face to face with our idols.

In another life I was producing a television program at Channel Seven. One particular day I was having lunch with a young production assistant when her sandwich all but fell from her hand. She was gazing fixedly across the station’s canteen in wonderment as her favourite Daddo walked through the door. She quickly told me how she believed him to be the best thing that had ever happened to the small screen. “My chance for a good deed!” I thought.

I wandered over and asked said Daddo if he wouldn’t mind stopping by the table as one of our production crew was a big fan. He was happy to oblige. But the moment we arrived at the table her eyes went wide with horror and she slammed her head down on its surface. From then on, no-one – not even the Daddo – could coax her out of her self-imposed exile.

Our attractions, particularly our idols, exercise an undeniably powerful influence over our lives.
Network TEN’s television staple, Idol, is the annual quest for Australia teen pin-up. The show’s executive producer Stephen Tate told The Guide major changes had been made this year to favour those who, “… wanted to express themselves musically, not necessarily get their heads on television.”

However the latest series has demonstrated once again that form has a strange way of beating content when it comes to competitions. Throughout this year’s event consistently good performers have been overlooked by the voting public in favour of the well-formed. The classic example was the inexorable rise of third-place getter Dean Geyer who clearly lacked the musical capabilities of the Opera House finalists Damien Leith and Jessica Mauboy, but almost stole their places because he was, to quote Derek Zoolander, “Ridiculously good looking.”

The final extravaganza did thankfully deliver us an Idol for 2006 whose debut album will be deservedly vying for Christmas shopper’s attention. But the series has again demonstrated how prone we are to the power of our affections. Each week the teenage girls who formed Team Dean screamed and cried over his gains and setbacks in much the same way their mothers swooned over George Michael and their grandmothers wept for the Beatles.

Sony/BMG has discovered that these attractions don’t always translate to dollars spent but it would be foolish to underestimate their power. Who, in life, hasn’t met someone continually undone by their desire to do what is attractive over what is actually good for them?

The more we watch programs like Idol, the more we buy into the ideologies behind them. In this case, the producers, judges and record companies work hard to convince us there is an inseparable connection between youth, talent, beauty and success. If not, why all the concentration on what a singer is wearing each week? The supposition is that inside each finalist is a pop god or goddess who just has to be coaxed out on to the stage. And the viewer’s silent assumption is that they too are potential ‘diamonds in the rough’ who, given enough polishing, could also become objects of national worship. After all, who has watched and not wondered what song they would have chosen, should they have been standing in the spotlight?

We project our desires on these contestants and they become less of themselves and more of a shell for our own dreams. But Idol’s emphasis on assembling the right pieces for success is a pity really because the best singers aren’t always the best lookers, just as life’s truths aren’t always the most palatable ones.

We cringe and laugh at the delusional entrants who demonstrate that they are blind to just how little talent they possess. But we preserve a personal blind-spot when we consider our own standing before God, and continue to focus our attention on chasing the rainbow. The flagging careers of former Idols should be a cautionary tale, showing that popularity is no lasting path to success. In the end, what does it really matter if a person gains the whole world?

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