'Idol' is an increasingly cruel reality
"American Idol" is one of the nicest reality shows on TV. It grants aspiring singers a swig of the American dream -- a fantasy cocktail of fame, hype, and lots of money. In a semblance of democracy, it brings opportunity to "real people" who might otherwise squander their talents at karaoke bars and cheesy family weddings. The Fox series, which returned for its fourth season this week, is the Lady Bountiful of prime time TV.
At least until Mr. Hyde shows up and rips a few tender egos to shreds with his jagged teeth. "American Idol," so enabling and celebratory, so potent in its ability to rally the voting public, is also one of the cruelest reality shows going. The filmed talent auditions, which lure every wannabe away from his hair-brush mike and bedroom mirror, constitute some of the most breathtakingly sadistic sequences ever to hit the small screen. As the judges laugh in the faces of vulnerable kids with clumped hair and pockmarked skin, they re-create the "Carrie"-esque nightmare of every freshman geek ever accused of having cooties. They are the rich and famous shaking their heads over the great unwashed, the haves chuckling about the have-nots.
And, as this week has shown, the young people meeting with the most humiliation are far from the charming geeks we've met on WB shows, the wry mathematics whizzes who are every hero's best friend. These are heavily deluded individuals who don't seem to hear themselves clearly, who appear to be clinging to reality by a thread of hope. I've always felt that, given the visibility of the reality genre, reality contestants should know what they're signing up for -- especially on dating shows such as "The Bachelor" or competitions like "The Apprentice." But many of the broken folks who hand away their image to "American Idol" may truly have no understanding of the jeers they'll be facing from millions of viewers.
Recent portraits in self-delusion have included the stunned man who forgot the lyrics, froze, left the room, returned, then sobbed as the camera lingered on his silent misery; the woman who jumped up and down singing "YMCA," her breasts bobbing one beat behind her with a mind of their own; and the smug dude who claimed to be Toni Braxton's cousin, whose voice sounded like Elvis Presley singing his way through an epileptic fit. Each of them met with the utter disbelief of the inquisition-like judges, including a very Ethan Hawke-ish Mark McGrath.
The most memorable audition was by a blonde in a bright red shirt named Mary Roach, whom AOL has already dubbed "The Female William Hung" and "Scary Mary." Singing Carole King's "I Feel the Earth Move," she threw her body into convulsions as she shrieked out the lyrics. When Cowell asked her how she felt she did, her answer was a confident "Not too shabby." She then told the judges about the voices in her head, in case there was any question of her stability. If she is indeed the female Hung, she has already earned her guilt money from the public.
The William Hung phenomenon has fed this bonfire of inhumanity, with host Ryan Seacrest now gleefully asking, "Which of these contestants will be the next William Hung?" In this first post-Hung season, the show is giving the audition episodes added importance, upping them from two to three weeks and including guest judges on the panels. And we have to assume that the show's screeners are purposely letting more awful performers into the judging room, in order to fill up a few weeks' worth of snide laughs. Surely, someone heard Mary Roach before Simon & Co. did and thought, "She's perfectly ridiculous. Send her in." That same person probably came up with the idea of rounding up the worst singers and asking them to perform "America the Beautiful" for a collage of outrageously off-key renditions.
I'm not sure "American Idol" can take responsibility for every dreamer who flocks to its cattle calls like pilgrims on a religious trek. And, in our high-gloss TV atmosphere, there is something quite welcome about Cowell's scathing honesty, even if the truth can hurt. But setting up clueless and desperate people for public shaming isn't the truth; it's exploitation. There's a line between taking cruel advantage of someone's feeble delusion and enjoying their foibles; in some cases, it's a fine line, but one that's clear to anyone with a heart.
We know that "American Idol" is a promotional juggernaut, with ads and product placements seemingly eating up half its airtime. And we know that despite its democratic process, its phone voting system may well be flawed. But we don't tend to think of "American Idol" as a mean-spirited program in the manner of the "My Big Fat Obnoxious" shows. But, until the finalists are chosen and the voting public jumps into the fray later in the season, the show has little compunction about feeding the Mary Roaches of the world to the wolves.
Matthew Gilbert can be reached at gilbert@globe.com. 