Insofar as a programme detailing the downfall, as it were, of a famous film star (do they still use the term?) can be reasonably tasteful, the one I saw yesterday managed to give some sense of genuine sympathy for the actor in question. I still felt somewhat soiled watching the thing though, and it says little for my character that I continued to watch. It wasn't that I was terribly desirous to discover the grim details; simply that the spectacle of the train wreck was compelling. Some dreadful voice messages the guy was assumed to have sent in a particularly violent, drunken outburst had the power of the bleakest kind of drama.
I really have no idea whether the guy is basically a decent sort bought low by alcohol and betrayal, or a nasty piece of work whose innate nastiness is inevitably unravelling. But I do know I'm deeply glad I'm not him or at all close to his condition.
At one point there was a clip of him saying something to the effect that public humiliation is every one's worse fear. It's not mine actually, not even close. In fact, such humiliation is something I think I could survive with relative ease. So the sheer fact of the making of the programme I was watching - humiliation on the grandest of scales whichever way you cut it - had an awful ironic power in itself.
It was all deeply and strangely, almost pointlessly sad. And the fact that there are people far, far worse off than this guy, and far more worthy of attention, just added to the sadness.
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