I don’t watch Dancing With the Stars (or as it is affectionately known in puff print articles, DWTS; apparently, the title is too long to type). The fact is, I watch very little reality TV, except sports, of course. I did watch Season II of Survivor just to see what all the excitement was about (Tina won). I enjoy Donald Trump’s The Apprentice, or its companion post shark-jumping version, The Celebrity Apprentice. Being in human resources, I rationalize this guilty pleasure as work-related. I’ve never watched an entire episode of American Idol. I do keep up with happenings in the reality genre by reading about the shows online or in magazines or newspapers. I stay abreast of pop culture, but frankly, I don’t really get the reality TV craze. I get the psychology behind its popularity and the socio-economic pressures that make a successful vehicle. I just find most of it too formulaic, slow moving, and unwatchable.
Cherie joined me in the basement man-cave yesterday, and during a routine channel surf, DWTS became the eddy from which we could not escape. We know the show is popular, and I have been reading about Bristol Palin’s surprising run through the competition. In the spirit of marital compromise, I didn’t surf on to either Lifetime or ESPN. I decided that on this night, Cherie and I would wade into the shallow end of the cultural pool together. On this night, we will watch ballroom dancing on TV.
My first question about the show involves the title. “Dancing” makes sense. “Stars”? I need some help here. How does a unwed teen mom from a small town in Alaska qualify as a star? I have to admit that I smile at the irony of Sarah Palin cheering on her daughter as young Bristol shakes her booty in a cage, then rhythmically thrusts her unmarried pelvis into her dance partner’s crotch for all of Real America to see. Is this an example of female empowerment, Sarah, or sexploitation? Is cage dancing in revealing outfits and being rated on a scale from 1-10 based on the level of sexual tension expressed just wholesome Monday night fun? Too bad Katie Couric will not have the opportunity to ask the GOP contender that ‘gotcha’ question.
Lest you think I’m one of the ‘haters’ picking on Palin family values hypocrisy, next up was Jennifer Grey, a real star, albeit 30 years and one nose ago. She could really move those hips. The highlight was her dry humping her partner while they were standing on the judges’ table. The audience snapped to attention (pun intended) at the climax of her performance. I instinctively turned around to be sure that my children were protected from the act and not in the room. Ms. Grey was not as concerned as I was, since her 6 year old daughter (at least I think it was her daughter, and the age estimate is mine) was in the live audience, applauding her mommy, and the strange man that had just simulated sex under the hot studio lights with her.
On days like this I feel that having a teenage daughter myself is turning me into Tipper Gore in full revolt against the entertainment media. There is innuendo and sexual double entendre everywhere I look, and no longer in a good way. From what I have read, and what I have now seen once for my own eyes, this particular popular program has climbed in the ratings to new heights while dragging the viewers to a new low in values, and I wonder if I am the only one concerned.
Robin Givhan wrote a great piece in the October 17, 2010 Washington Post about the double standard of moral outrage at the early sexualization of America’s youth, and the shoulder-shrugging affirmation of a show like DWTS. She points out that critics of Miley Cyrus, who is working to shed her squeaky Disney image and appeal to a new demographic, should take a closer look at America’s #1 show (on ABC, a Disney property):
“Cyrus once again has demonstrated that she is a performer and a businessperson -- not the protector of childhood innocence. Parents are distressed because she recently released a music video for "Who Owns My Heart" in which she is dressed skimpily, made up heavily and, at a certain point, dancing enthusiastically -- but not vulgarly -- in a crowded nightclub. Her movements are sensual and suggestive, but they are less provocative than the grinding rumbas that are regularly showcased on an evening of "Dancing With the Stars," during which contestants -- some of them teenagers, some senior citizens -- are vehemently admonished by the judges for not being sexy enough. Cue to the audience's applause.”
The entire commentary is worth a read, especially her admonition of 76 year old Florence Henderson’s attempt to evolve into the more lecherous version of Betty White, but this is the best line of all:
“…our popular culture is known for neither nuance nor subtlety; we require a smack over the head -- a Lady Gaga-size, meat-dress drubbing -- before we start paying attention.”
Maybe that’s what this is all about. We as a nation can no longer be shocked. We should have realized this once Dennis Franz’s bare bottom made its' network debut on NYPD Blue. The moral lines that we thought were permanently drawn were actually drawn in sand, and sand lines can be changed without anyone noticing. Perhaps Sarah Palin will draw new ones during her 2012 campaign for legitimacy.
That’s reality TV to me.
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