In a column published Jan. 8 in the Globe and Mail, Leah McLaren considers the changing nature of fame. The column—titled “Go on, get famous—you’ll be the envy of idiots everywhere”—points to the ongoing worship of fame and the acquisition of celebrity as the ultimate validation of talent.
However, McLaren points to a gradual backslide in celebrity lifestyle. High-profile individuals are moving from glitz and glamour to sleaze and scandal.
McLaren points to websites like Facebook and YouTube, that let ordinary individuals draw attention to themselves in the same way a celebrity might. Reality TV brought this celebrity into the mainstream. This “democratization of fame” led to a “devaluation of celebrity.” McLaren consults American cultural critic Cintra Wilson, who claims that we have witnessed the “collapse of fame.” As individuals became increasingly public, celebrities became disposable, and fell prey to addiction and melodrama.
It’s hard to argue with the conclusion McLaren offers—that fame can be a dangerous and warping experience. But fame and infamy are different things. Not every celebrity succumbs to drug addiction or high-profile heartbreak, nor is it reasonable to suppose that this is a phenomenon unique to this generation. Celebrities have always been embroiled in scandal; television and the Internet simply made this scandal more public.
McLaren points to an age of “obsessive image-management.” It’s important to acknowledge that not every infamous celebrity is entirely lacking self-awareness. Many trade on, or play up, a persona in order to reap the benefits of fame—hardly an innovation of the 21st century.
It’s also important to recognize that sometimes celebrities don’t seem like real people—we’re so used to seeing them in the public eye that even their real lives turn into fiction.
Celebrity and fame are frequently by-products of being part of something that is simply popular, not laudable or impressive. However, this signals only that fame is changing, not that it has died—and that it has always been arbitrary. McLaren describes a celebrity’s spiral out of control as a “spectacle of celebrity toxicity,” but the spectacle reflects as much about the audience as the performers. Though unpleasant to acknowledge, it’s gratifying to wallow in the dirty laundry of others, confident that we can hop out at our leisure.
What we deem famous—and more broadly, who deserves the title of “celebrity”—reveals a great deal about ourselves.
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