By now, you might be one of the 35 million people who've watched the youtube clip of Susan Boyle—the 47-yr-old Scot who never had a French kiss—sing "I Dreamed a Dream" on Britain's Got Talent.
If you're not, here's the story that everyone's talking about: Susan Boyle is an unemployed, single woman who lives alone with her cat Pebbles in the hamlet of Blackburn and has never gotten formal vocal training (or been kissed).
She won a spot to sing on TV, on Britain's version of American Idol, in front of an audience of millions, including the critical judge Simon Cowell (owner of a record label, gatekeeper to riches and fame).
When the pedestrian Susan walks onto the stage, the cameras pan the crowd, and the crowd looks universally repulsed. Susan's potbelly pushes a curve into her silky dress. Her frizzy hair is a bush of a mess. How could anything valuable come from someone so...pathetic?
Simon Cowell looks down and gets ready to stomach another lame human being.
Then the woman starts to sing. As she opens her mouth, it's as if angels have arrived. As this dowdy woman gets to the second verse of the song, the whole room is shuddering with resonance: "I dreamed a dream in time gone by," she sings, "When hope was high, and life worth living." Her voice is pitch-perfect and holds the poignancy of what history has missed--the underdog, the lonely, the privately brilliant.
The cameras course over the crowd. People in the audience who had previously rolled their eyes now grab their mouths. People who had laughed now gawk with disbelief. My God, they think--and we the youtube viewers rhythmically intone--talent can come from something ugly!
The popular response to this youtube clip has been a sort of group catharsis. As Maureen Callahan writes so brilliantly in her recent article on the topic, "There is something disturbing about the collective rejection-embrace-elevation of Susan Boyle. There is [a] self-congratulation [and] the idea that we, the secondary viewers, the judges of those who are judging, are...more evolved."
There's a Shakespearean purging here. We see an auditorium full of shallow people reject someone ugly. Then, we see her perform well. Then we, by way of independent judgment, embrace her. We feel proud of ourselves.
But let it be known that this is exactly the sort of purging--like eating the Eucharist or pledging routine apologies--that allows us to return to former patterns.
For context, remember that--without a doubt--Simon Cowell had seen this women sing before. He and his crew had vetted her in multiple pre-T.V. auditions. Know that he also had a plan: He would stage her as "ugly." He would not dye her hair, gird her with make-up, or suggest a more flattering dress before this international T.V. performance. He would encourage her to confess her virginity. As the TV's rolled, he did roll his own eyes in faux-doubt, a drama of his classic cynicism. But Simon Cowell knew exactly how this woman would sing before she opened her slightly mustached mouth.
The set up (the ugly loser, the powerful man's false judgment, the ethical correction) was a way for superficial T.V. or for Simon Cowell to feel a little less guilty about himself. Or said again, this show served as reputation-control for Simon Cowell as much as it served any pure purpose for Susan Boyle. Sensational TV shows (American Idol, The Bachelor, Rock of Love) have gotten rich off of pummeling the quiet or the ugly with an aggressive spirit--with an exaggerated judgment on nuance. Cowell is famous for his ability to cut people down without an appreciation for their effort; he's become king because of his unapologetic simplicity of judgment.
In this light, the whole Susan Boyle incident can be read as a sort of "bread and circus." That was the phrase that Romans used to explain the trickster power of their empire. It meant that if you throw the masses some occasional crumb--some food or joy--you can get away with tyranny. That's how I see this Susan Boyle thing. Our media is a factory and government of the superficial: They've gotten rich by valuing, and having us value, simple, sensational stuff. They can only get away with this behavior if they occasionally throw us a crumb--if they say, "Look, some ugly people happen to sound pretty!!" (Get out!! Can you believe it?!) This crumb comes with the message that "we respect nuance; we respect personality."
But do they, really; or is this just some ritual penance on their part?
