When did it happen? That subtle shift? When did addiction evolve from something unspeakable to fun entertainment for the whole family?
Today, when a celebrity begins to emanate that now-familiar whiff of an impending crash-and-burn (hospitalized due to "exhaustion"? A drunken talk show appearance, perhaps?) we all make popcorn and pull up our chairs.
When David Hasselfoff has a makeout session with a big mac (apparently after a makeout session with a bottle of Wild Turkey), we can't tweet that shit fast enough. The ongoing Lindsay nonsense is obviously fascinating enough to earn her a cool $2 million. We revel when housewives get shitfaced and begin fighting. We smile, feeling superior, when paparrazzi capture Brandi barely walking out of a bar, her tampon string dangling in the breeze for all to see. Thank God I was never like that. We think smugly. Was I? We stare, open-mouthed, at the woman who's trailer is so crammed with years of trash and rats she has to bungie cord herself sitting on her toilet just to get some shut-eye.
Addiction as entertainment has troubled me for a long time, as I wrote in the New York Times this summer (article here). But of all the addiction shows, there were two that troubled me the most. Both were created with the best of intentions, I believe. And thankfully, both were recently canceled. I think it's fair to say one started it all...I just wish I could say the other ended it.
The first is A & E's "Intervention." Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was well done. Yeah, it saved people's lives (At least I fucking hope so.) All the people involved are incredibly respected interventionists. It had classy music. It was well-edited.
But I also know what goes into making a show, what producers can be like, and especially what happens overnight to your life once you've been on TV for one night.
I can't begin to grasp how it would feel to live in a small town & have my intervention filmed. All my family's dirty laundry exposed, for everyone to see and judge. My weeping mother. My crushed father. My betrayed sister. My shame.
My nightmare.
Oh, it gets better. Turns out you've been duped into this whole thing. Yep. A & E was even proud of it. Each episode of "Intervention" opened with: "June (or whoever) has been asked to do a documentary about heroin. She has no idea her family is planning an intervention on her in 2 days."
Exciting!
So, after shooting up/nodding off/ rambling about nonsense for 48 hours, June is hit with this double-whammy: her family, shaking and sobbing with grief as they read letters detailing her sins from their perspective and demanding she leave this second for some tiny rehab...AND IT'S ALL CAUGHT ON CAMERA!!!
That's why I hated it. At the core of the show, it's really about deceiving someone stupid enough to be an addict.
The ethics of that were never questioned, to my knowledge. Why?
Because they're addicts. They deserved it.
The ethics of that were never questioned, to my knowledge. Why?
Because they're addicts. They deserved it.
Another show that troubled me was “Celebrity Rehab.” "CR" was the brain child of Dr. Drew, and while I actually agree with many of Dr. Drew's views regarding addiction, it's his ethics I question. To be totally fair, I've spoken with a few people who were either treated themselves by him, or a family member was, and across the board, people adore him. They say he really and truly cares and not just when the cameras were on.
That said, in my opinion, all the show accomplished was to further push people away from any real understanding of the epidemic that’s killing millions and destroying lives. I just don't believe you can effectively help addicts while exploiting them so you can be on TV.
(OK, I almost choked on a Twizzler just now. Did you guys know Dr. Drew once wrote a book called "The Mirror Effect: How Celebrity Narcissism Is Seducing America"? Me, neither. You know, not to be a total smartass, but I'm thinking that's a book he might want to get reacquainted with at the beach this summer.)
There have been a few participants of the 6 seasons (SIX!?) of the show who seem to have found some real recovery, like Mackenzie Phillips and Jennifer Gimenez (two women I adore, who's recovery I admire). Also, I can understand why some of them did it...they'd tried other rehabs before, maybe doing it in public would finally work?
However, a staggering number of participants have also died. This caused a great deal of backlash in the press against Dr. Drew, which I found ludicrous. Addicts die. Many of us lose the battle. That’s simply the horrifying reality.
Then this niggling question began to haunt me: Well, what if those people had gone to an actual, non-televised rehab? Instead of filming a TV show with people messed up in the same way they were, they went for 90 days to a place with real people? Would they be alive today?
Who knows?
But If Dr. Drew was so committed to helping addicts, (and from all reports, he is) then why couldn't he simply have donated his money or his time? Why did it have to be filmed? For 6 years?
I don't believe Dr. Drew's intentions were in ANY way malevolent.
His addiction got in the way, and like all addicts--he was simply feeding his own ravenous beast. He just happens to have an addiction to fame.
Whether you're an addict or not, I don't think it's a huge leap to imagine that when one is at the point of needing rehab, or an intervention, things are usually pretty fucking dire. Therefore, like the addicts on "Intervention," could any of the participants of "Celebrity Rehab" really be expected to be of sound enough mind to make best decision whether or not to televise their rehabilitation?
Did they look at their drunken signature and think what the fuck have I done?
I’ve been to rehab. People (and yes, I do sadly include myself) show up drooling, weeping and bombed out of their minds. One lovely fellow showed up, and while being checked in, decided to defecate in his pants, which sent his bride of a week (who was dropping him off) into hysterics so loud & dramatic we gave him shit about it for weeks. My point is, it's usually the very hardest, scariest, embarrassing & vulnerable day of your entire life. To be honest, remembering how much self-hatred and despair and terror I felt, I think I'd rather be dead than have that moment, or any of my rehab, televised.
It must be said that the participants themselves (with all due respect to the lovely Ms. Gimenez & Ms. Phillips) were mostly people who used to be famous, yet to be famous, or were simply "infamous." It amazed me, how many were clearly seeking 15 more minutes of fame, When they had yet to deal with their first 15.
I managed to watch parts of different episodes of "CR", but I could only last a scene or two before furiously changing the channel to Animal Planet, praying a gorilla show would kick this imagined scenario out of my brain:
How do I know this? Well, I happen to know something that Dr. Drew doesn't. And that is - fame... It breaks your heart.
I know it's so hard to believe, people don't want to believe it, but it does. I swear. There's this moment when you realize what a lying, deceiving, cheating bastard fame really is. You are slammed by a crushing betrayal and unimaginable depression as it begins to dawn on you that this THING you'd been doggedly pursuing for so long, this THING you were convinced would finally fill that cavernous hole in your soul, this THING that would mean your life was wonderful and you weren't broken, this THING you've given your heart, dreams, soul, trust & love to since you were a kid....
That said, in my opinion, all the show accomplished was to further push people away from any real understanding of the epidemic that’s killing millions and destroying lives. I just don't believe you can effectively help addicts while exploiting them so you can be on TV.
(OK, I almost choked on a Twizzler just now. Did you guys know Dr. Drew once wrote a book called "The Mirror Effect: How Celebrity Narcissism Is Seducing America"? Me, neither. You know, not to be a total smartass, but I'm thinking that's a book he might want to get reacquainted with at the beach this summer.)
There have been a few participants of the 6 seasons (SIX!?) of the show who seem to have found some real recovery, like Mackenzie Phillips and Jennifer Gimenez (two women I adore, who's recovery I admire). Also, I can understand why some of them did it...they'd tried other rehabs before, maybe doing it in public would finally work?
However, a staggering number of participants have also died. This caused a great deal of backlash in the press against Dr. Drew, which I found ludicrous. Addicts die. Many of us lose the battle. That’s simply the horrifying reality.
Then this niggling question began to haunt me: Well, what if those people had gone to an actual, non-televised rehab? Instead of filming a TV show with people messed up in the same way they were, they went for 90 days to a place with real people? Would they be alive today?
Who knows?
But If Dr. Drew was so committed to helping addicts, (and from all reports, he is) then why couldn't he simply have donated his money or his time? Why did it have to be filmed? For 6 years?
I don't believe Dr. Drew's intentions were in ANY way malevolent.
His addiction got in the way, and like all addicts--he was simply feeding his own ravenous beast. He just happens to have an addiction to fame.
Whether you're an addict or not, I don't think it's a huge leap to imagine that when one is at the point of needing rehab, or an intervention, things are usually pretty fucking dire. Therefore, like the addicts on "Intervention," could any of the participants of "Celebrity Rehab" really be expected to be of sound enough mind to make best decision whether or not to televise their rehabilitation?
Did they look at their drunken signature and think what the fuck have I done?
I’ve been to rehab. People (and yes, I do sadly include myself) show up drooling, weeping and bombed out of their minds. One lovely fellow showed up, and while being checked in, decided to defecate in his pants, which sent his bride of a week (who was dropping him off) into hysterics so loud & dramatic we gave him shit about it for weeks. My point is, it's usually the very hardest, scariest, embarrassing & vulnerable day of your entire life. To be honest, remembering how much self-hatred and despair and terror I felt, I think I'd rather be dead than have that moment, or any of my rehab, televised.
It must be said that the participants themselves (with all due respect to the lovely Ms. Gimenez & Ms. Phillips) were mostly people who used to be famous, yet to be famous, or were simply "infamous." It amazed me, how many were clearly seeking 15 more minutes of fame, When they had yet to deal with their first 15.
I managed to watch parts of different episodes of "CR", but I could only last a scene or two before furiously changing the channel to Animal Planet, praying a gorilla show would kick this imagined scenario out of my brain:
A flea-infested, dirty shithole, filled with empty bottles, syringes, old headshots and loneliness. The phone rings, and the addict is startled awake. His bleary eyes finally focus on the number. His agent? She hasn't taken his calls for 3 years, why would she be calling him?
Unless--Hope begins to blossom in his chest as he answers it. As he clears his throat, he imagines his comeback film. Maybe Tarantino, finally!
His smile stays plastered on even as his agent perkily explains that theres a show about former celebrities who are now addicts and need rehab. They've offered him a slot for the next season! Isn’t that exciting?
He is crushed, mortified. He once worked with great directors & went to the Oscars & slept with gorgeous women. He's better than this!
But he needs the money, desperately. And the exposure. And help....And THAT is how, instead of the real rehab with real people he so desperately needed, he ended up doing a television show. By the time he's sobered up enough to realize what’s really going on, it's too late. The very last of his pride has been demolished.
How do I know this? Well, I happen to know something that Dr. Drew doesn't. And that is - fame... It breaks your heart.
I know it's so hard to believe, people don't want to believe it, but it does. I swear. There's this moment when you realize what a lying, deceiving, cheating bastard fame really is. You are slammed by a crushing betrayal and unimaginable depression as it begins to dawn on you that this THING you'd been doggedly pursuing for so long, this THING you were convinced would finally fill that cavernous hole in your soul, this THING that would mean your life was wonderful and you weren't broken, this THING you've given your heart, dreams, soul, trust & love to since you were a kid....
It's been laughing at you behind your back the whole time.
The best way I can describe it is this: Imagine digging in the hot sands of Egypt & stumbling across an undiscovered pyramid and spending years and years of backbreaking labor and every dime you have breaking into the thing-only to find it empty with the sole exception of a long- ago discarded McDonalds wrapper.
That's what fame feels like.
It's the disappointment of your life, even as people around you are giddy with pride and excitement. It sure seems to fulfill them. But you stay, because it's what you've sacrificed everything for. And you got nowhere else to go. You cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it will become all those things your heart aches for.
And that, my friends, is why so many famous people either become addicts, go bonkers, or become unfeeling monsters. Some become all three. It takes a lot of hard work to become a happy human being after becoming famous. Most fail. I’m still working on it.
Hey, I wonder what would happen if all addicts decided to never again watch anything that exploits addiction? And that can be whatever you define it to be. This has nothing to do with 12 steps or anonymity. It's your private conviction, your way of saying "No more. I am not a joke, or your evening entertainment." As Greg Williams points out in "The Anonymous People"-people in recovery have a voice. A huge voice, 25 million strong. Could you imagine if we used it?
FYI...this is a clip from Letterman that a commenter below wanted to see.
The best way I can describe it is this: Imagine digging in the hot sands of Egypt & stumbling across an undiscovered pyramid and spending years and years of backbreaking labor and every dime you have breaking into the thing-only to find it empty with the sole exception of a long- ago discarded McDonalds wrapper.
That's what fame feels like.
It's the disappointment of your life, even as people around you are giddy with pride and excitement. It sure seems to fulfill them. But you stay, because it's what you've sacrificed everything for. And you got nowhere else to go. You cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it will become all those things your heart aches for.
And that, my friends, is why so many famous people either become addicts, go bonkers, or become unfeeling monsters. Some become all three. It takes a lot of hard work to become a happy human being after becoming famous. Most fail. I’m still working on it.
Hey, I wonder what would happen if all addicts decided to never again watch anything that exploits addiction? And that can be whatever you define it to be. This has nothing to do with 12 steps or anonymity. It's your private conviction, your way of saying "No more. I am not a joke, or your evening entertainment." As Greg Williams points out in "The Anonymous People"-people in recovery have a voice. A huge voice, 25 million strong. Could you imagine if we used it?
FYI...this is a clip from Letterman that a commenter below wanted to see.