Idolotry

Fox Network had a very good week last week, premiering its two flagship series with great style and popular receptivity. "24" continues to build audience rather than diminish, even as its plot machinations begin to fall into predictable patterns. And "American Idol," opening with its earliest elimination episodes, is also doing spectacularly. Well, if cynics like me tune in, there must be something to the phenomenon. I was offput when host Ryan Seacrest in his opening spouted the line "'American Idol' has become an integral part of American culture." I sneered at what I thought to be specious hyperbole. Yeah, America has produced Mark Twain, Edgar Allan Poe, George Gershwin and "American Idol." Take that, history. And the word "integral"--wow. Is it true that American culture cannot survive without this program?

But the more I watched the opening sequence, with its flashy production values (even more spectacular on hi-def, though nothing looks quite as good in HD as Jay Leno's LA skyline backdrop), and its teeming hordes of contestants, I began to wonder if there was something to the outrageous claim. It's easy to consign "American Idol" to the tradition of Major Bowes, Ted Mack, and "Star Search," each previous generation's talent jamborees. But none of them approached the scale and impact of this series. And none of them had the gumption to mine the dark side of the talent quest, which is so well-served in the audition phase of each season.

Here's where Chuck Barris, in eclipse media-wise but now hopefully hunting down Bin Laden, ratcheted up the interest through his celebration of talentlessness in "The Gong Show." A cleaner Howard Stern, he knew that exposing the underside of the American Dream could evoke laughter and contempt and all the things that make shadenfreuden worth experiencing. The "American Idol" producers cleverly mine that disdain for the average clueless American in these audition episodes, which like every car wreck and dog-and-pony show, present us with an irresistible cavalcade of freakishness. It astounds me that tens of thousands of wannabes show up at each audition. It's mind-blowing just imagining the process of winnowing down the contestants to those who make it into the final judging of Randy, Simon and Paula. I've discussed this with one of the show's apparently bountiful production staff and to no one's surprise he informed me that the screening is intense but aimed toweard true entertainment value. Quality voices are passed along, as well as a critical number of stupefying dufeses.

As a humanist I am then torn between sympathy for these naive, hopeful everypersons pursuing an impossible dream, and anger at the idiocy of their ambitions and self-aggrandizement. Here's where "American Idol" does reflect an American Experience. It used to be everyone aspired to be president; now just as many wish to be Ruben Stoddard or Carrie Underwood, and their parents and grandparents cruelly encourage this delusion. Well, people buy lottery tickets and root for the Cubs. In America Hope is certainly eternal.

"American Idol" also resonates more than earlier talent shows because the audience is so heavily invested in determining the outcome. All other programs had their closed set of judges; for this one, we get to vote. I don't have the statistics, but I gather that fifty million votes or so are cast through the ease of phones and web connections. Of course there are a lot of repeat voters, which, like the baseball all-star game balloting often skews the results oddly. But this is Democracy in Action, and as American as apple fritters and Nascar.

Which leads me to an interesting thought, which is that the electoral process of "American Idol" might be adapted to our Presidential elections. It can't be more lame or outmoded than the Electoral College, which is responsible for the historic mess our nation has been thrust into this decade on the international stage. But suppose an election were held which contested ten candidates, five Reps and five Dems. Each successive vote would eliminate the candidate with the fewest votes. Ryan Seacrest or someone more substantial, like Dave Letterman, could announce the decision and escort out the loser in a blaze of color, and perhaps the loser could sing a closing anthem. Wait a second--Showtime already did that on a reality show called "The American President." Life and art, hmm. They both suck.