Hate Bomb

By Pam Hadder

We made you, we can destroy you.  There is deeply disturbing love-hate relationship with celebrity – it’s nothing new, but technology access has allowed destructive, spiteful behaviour to mushroom out of control. The vilest diatribes are vaulted into cyberspace without regard of who might be hurt, a volley of cruel imagery and words. With their assumed cloak of invisibility, users can be unbelievably base.

Celebrities: we are dazzled by their charisma, we are awed by their stature, and we fantasize about the wealth they enjoy; imagining a life of luxury and unimaginable abundance. Yet we love to see them brought to their knees, humiliated and ultimately destroyed – we made you, we can destroy you.  What does this say of human nature?  I like to think I’m not so evil a creature, but I’m not immune to enjoying some tabloid-style schlock. As a woman that has always felt the pressure to weigh less, be more feminine, and has never able to achieve 100% acceptance, my heart does warm a little when the paparazzi sneak pics of stars without makeup, for example!  I want to say, “See, they are just people – packaged and airbrushed; they have typical human ‘flaws’ – they aren’t what you think!”

Think of the great icons of film, music and public life, people like Elvis and Marilyn.  Pushed and manipulated by studios, managers and agents; addicted to drugs and ultimately destroyed as they strove to be thin enough, vivacious enough; to fit the hypersexualised, surreal die that had been cast.  Even at the peak of studio-manipulated “perfection,” Marilyn and Elvis were never enough; they could not satiate the human monster. A lot of people got rich, and a lot of folks are still making money on their celebrity. What do Lady Diana, Bill Clinton, Lindsey Lohan, Amy Winehouse, Amanda Bynes, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber have in common?  They have all been ruthlessly stalked, singled out and bullied, and some of them are no longer with us – did we push them over the edge?  I was sickened when Amy Winehouse died and jerks who had belittled her for her appearance and addictions cooed, “Oh what a tragic loss!”  Hypocrites.

Yes, I’m just as guilty; just as vulnerable to salacious gossip – I am far from blameless. But I clearly see that Justin Bieber is just someone’s son, a kid who experienced unusual success at a very young age and who is trying to fit in– he’s just a few years older than my own son for goodness sake.  Seeing Biebs in prison orange with bad skin just feels so uncomfortable; it makes me want to scream, “Where the hell are the good people – and where is his family in all of this?”  I worry for him and for us.  We should consider that he is being exploited by hangers-on who will be gone as soon as the money and drugs run out. Even on my toughest day when I am juggling bills and hustling for work, I wouldn’t trade places with Bieber or any other hounded “celebrity” not even for one hour – no thanks!  And as we enter the month of love, I choose to express my opinions with great care - love first, love without bounds. You are self-made; I choose to honour your existence.

Inanimate Intimacy

This past weekend we got a break from the severe cold (aka Artic Vortex!) and I happily catapulted my sheepskin-swathed self out for dinner and a movie.  It was a hugely encouraging experience from the get-go, as there were quite a few new movies to choose from – well, maybe not so “new” as I have been holed up since before the holiday season – so let’s rephrase that as “new to me!”  My girlfriend and I settled on the film, “She” – starring Amy Adams and Joaquin Phoenix; it is about a nerdy guy who falls in love with his OS named Samantha.

The movie was really fantastic on many levels – it had the superficial appeal of many films (great actors, quirky humour, etc.), but this was greatly downplayed in favour of thought-provoking content.  What has me wanting to see this film again is its cleverly written script and haunting, complex themes those words define. Unlike most films that hit mainstream theatres, “She” has the meat of a stage performance.  Highly successful in creating a realistic-futuristic experience using subtly crafted visual layers of alienation, the film treads a fine line between the immediate and what lies ahead. 

Take for example the pasty-faced urbanites smiling and talking not to each other, but to their respective customized OS – I could see a lot of myself and people I know in those faces and behaviours! Yes, scary but true – even as I write this, I know I will be posting it to a blog and sharing it on a number of social media platforms, and I am seriously questioning the value and reasoning behind all of that. A word that comes to mind is “posturing” – a sort of distanced posturing versus real connection and communication. Thus I reconsider the real world impact and personal context of my blog forays: a virtual smattering of self, volleyed off into the uncertainty of an ever-expanding cyber-surreality for a purpose that is half crap-shoot science and half boredom-loneliness-ego-driven-whatever-ness.

Compelling in its awkwardness, frustrating with its deliberate lack of videographic grandeur, relatable in its human brokenness, and memorable for the poetic wisdom woven throughout like a welcome breeze, “She” is more like something you expect to see screened at Sundance.  Most of all, the film has served as a reality check for this writer, this woman, this tech lover – it makes me want to touch, taste, feel , see more of the three-dimensional, flawed and fabulous real world and it puts all of this into harsh relativity.  Over and out.