Our celebrities and other animals
Ever since I came across that unfortunate anti-circus video featuring a motley crew of Maltese celebs, I’ve been trying to figure out why the whole thing just backfires so spectacularly.
Why on earth do some of us find the whole thing so cringe-worthy that we can’t watch it without looking away? Why do we protest and rush to write biting critiques when a Maltese TV presenter decides to sit naked in a studio in aid of yet another good cause? It’s not like this whole silly ‘Get your kit off for charity’ stunt hasn’t been played out time and time again all over the world.
And yet, all ironic hell breaks loosewhen Moira Delia decides to shed her trousers for a magazine and Joe Azzopardi mouths the hilariously iconic line “my bed is my toilet”. Are we being too harsh by half or do these guys deserve the flak? What cultural undertones lie beneath many people’s almost knee-jerk rejection when faced with this unhappy video? Is it the quality of the clip itself, the people in it or our perennial issue with language that makes it so mysteriously unbearable?
I asked a few friends from one particular walk of life (they’re all university graduates with an interest in the media) what they make of the anti-circus clip and the perhaps disproportionately violent reaction it aroused on blogsand facebook. So violent, in fact, that one friend sent me this terse reply: “Sorry, loads to say on this one, none of which is for public consumption in a newspaper, I'm afraid!” Heady stuff, you’ll agree, considering that what we’re talking about here is just an apparently harmless awareness-raising video clip.
The anti-anti-circus video reaction seems to have focused on three problematic issues.
The video itself: While a few friends thought that the quality of the video was “so neutral that it hardly warrants an analysis as to its quality”, an expert in the genre disagreed: “Films, adverts and so on work on many levels. Critical to their success is their ability to encourage an audience to suspend their disbelief – something that this anti-circus clip fails to do miserably. The 100 seconds of narrative vignettes draw on for a lifetime. The experience of watching this can only be described as cringingly skin-crawling. You actually feel dirty after you’ve watched it for it sits in this liminally absurd space reminiscent of Little Britain’s “I want Bitty” moment. Although unlike Little Britain this is neither parody nor is it meant to be funny.”
Indeed, several Maltese sit-coms and teleserials do appear to have this unintentional Little Britain feel about them, my latest unlucky encounter being a never-ending sequence during which, after having eaten a plate of brungiel, Eileen Montesin’s character complains that she’s developed stomach cramps, proceeds to tell Hector Bruno all about her pressing intestinal problems in all earnestness and ends up throwing up several times on prime-time television. Can everyone really do what the hell they like on Maltese TV these days as long as they don’t take the name of the Lord in vain?
The language question: Several English-language newspapers, we read books in the language and a good bulk of our daily communication happens in English. Not to mention all the plays. Yet we still seem to have a serious problem when people speak it on TV. This is really quite odd when you think about it. While one person I interviewed thought that “the hullaballoo about English accents is the usual post-colonial hangover typical of an unconfident nation still unsure of its identity”, others disagreed. “The artificiality of that video is even more pronounced in its English version…at least in Maltese it’s somehow unintentionally funny”, said one friend.
“People who make a big deal about the way we pronounce English bother me”, said another friend who went on to question, however, why an English version was made in the first place. “If we think we’re being sophisticated by doing that, it backfired massively to say the least. From the odd pronunciation of “bed”, “toilet” and “collar” to the endless word by word schoolboy and schoolgirl litany of the annoying “You are their only hope” mantra as if we’re back in primary, it’s all quite painful.”
But all this seems rather circular to me. The fact remains that several people who watched the video wince at the odd pronunciation proving that the whole language issue is still very messy in this country.
Maltese celebs:Does the concept of a Maltese celebrity somehow jar? What makes a celebrity a celebrity? Is it outstanding achievements, special talents, a large admiring audience? Or is incessant media exposure, achieved by hook or by crook, sufficient to propel a mere mortal into the celebrities’ hall of fame?
“My niggling feeling”, said one friend “is that the latter is increasingly becoming the bench mark. Which is why the cringe-factor creeps in, since a celebrity without a genuine admiring audience is simply a sitting duck. And shoot we do – Bang, Bang, Bang! Nor can one ignore the fact that on an international level, celebrities are normally larger-than-life personas, who inhabit the collective imagination like demigods, and who only the lucky few have the privilege of meeting in person. This precious quality sadly eludes our affable local celebs who have a much greater possibility of bumping into us at PAVI than winning an Oscar or an Emmy”.
Another friend commented that “Perhaps that anti-circus spot is so cringe-worthy because these personalities have decided to ride the wave and embark on a moral crusade, a la Bono. The concept of a Maltese celebrity is so abhorrent because it mimics its counterpart while failing terribly because it lacks humor, originality and irony. The Maltese celebrity (if s/he thinks s/he is one) isn’t an oxymoron but just a moron”.
But it wasn’t all one-way criticism either as some chided the critics, pointing out that it was unfair to claim, as some have done, that these celebrities are simply looking for publicity. “It’s as if stunts featuring well-known people aren’t produced all over the globe. It stinks of Maltese tall poppy syndrome”, said one person I spoke to.
“I strongly suspect that the argument is a petty, personal one against the celebs in question, but cunningly couched in side-arguments relating to editing style, hairstyle and sartorial choices”, said another friend. “Maltese people don’t like homegrown celebrities. It is a deadly mix of small-island envy, blowing out each other's candles, and an absence of a critical infrastructure which can independently deem who's hot and who's not. Celebrities in Malta, in fact, no longer exist due to sheer talent, but solely thanks to their networking skills and their adeptness at obtaining financial leverage and occupying vacant spaces of 'power'. When, then, other 'celebs' (lower down the list) point out flaws, it's obvious that the cat fight has started”.
Others disagreed saying that the video makes them cringe because of the enormous amount of pretention that went into it. “I don’t like these celebrities climbing onto their moral high horse in this manner” said one person I spoke to, “I can just about tolerate them on their third-rate shows but their metamorphosis into saccharine preachers is a step too far. Their moralizing like some new-age priests is unbearable and frankly off-putting. These guys should stick to what they do best.”
One thing is for certain. The anti-circus video appears to have created more debate in this small corner of the globe than Julian Assange and his WikiLeaks. On a cultural level, the local still matters.