October 03, 2002
hollywood, save me from your tabloids
Listening to: Mogwai - Dial:Revenge
Reading: study books & Jostein Gaarder
There's a documentary on TV right now which
I've decided to stop watching after I got halfway through.
'When Cameras Cross The Line.'
The documentary was supposed to prove how scandalous the issue of celebrities harassed by
paparazzi was and how it could not be tolerated. Over and over again they showed an
endless repertoire of angry celebrities "pushed over the edge" and people
placing their hands over the camera lens pleading for the pictures to stop. They even
followed a 'famous' paparazzi around for a night to see how his job worked.
What I found amusing about it was that the material used to expose this shocking reality was of course provided by the "paparazzi scum" themselves, and most likely they were well-paid for it. And Mr Narrator did announce each sentence with a supposedly-shocked tone, but the undertone of excitement and that practiced thrill of end-of-sentence drama is so unmistakeable I had to get up and leave.
They weren't trying to prove anything or help anyone. All those celebrities frustrated and nerve-wracked as if they didn't pay a one-way ticket into camera hell to begin with... no one could save them. Watching half of that unsympathetic documentary with its feeble excuse of a purpose made me realise that.