Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston in happier times: their lives are an obsession for millions, and evolution may be to blame.
Credit: Boris Horvat/AFP
BUT PERHAPS we're flirting with the real issue here. If celebrity is just a glammed-up version of survival of the fittest, then surely we should be talking more about sex. Sex is at the root of celebrity worship, according to Douglas Kenrick of Arizona State University. He thinks that in some ways we're duped into believing the stars are part of our own reproductive pool. "It's natural for us to keep track of the mating relationships of 'Brangelina'. Because if someone of high-status becomes available, it's time to take action - or keep very close tabs on your partner."
Fisher agrees that celebrities can trigger any of the three brain systems involved in mating and reproduction: the first controls our sex drive, the second controls romantic love (associated with elation, mood swings, obsessive thoughts), and the third is responsible for attachment, that sense of calm and security we feel with a long-term partner. She also points out that the system linked with romantic love - increased dopamine activity in certain regions of the brain - is also responsible for addictions, and that people rejected in love show brain activity similar to people craving cocaine. So physiological evidence lends support to Houran's idea that at higher levels, celebrity worship becomes addictive.
But is there really an epidemic? Social psychologists agree that we've always worshipped celebrities - throughout human history we've always idolised people more successful and beautiful than ourselves. But Houran suspects that celebrity worship is becoming more prevalent and more intense, and he cites the technology boom of the past few decades - especially the arrival of the Internet - as the main reason for this trend. With its rapid transmission of images, sound bites and vast volumes of information, the Internet has brought the world and its celebrities closer, faster … and continuously. Even if we wanted to stop consuming the celebrity product, Houran reckons "It's like someone trying to stop overeating in the middle of a candy store."
So in this fast-food age of celebrity, our television, film and music industries have become star factories, pumping out batches of celebrities with short shelf-lives. This happens most explicitly in the form of reality television. Each season, Big Brother, Australian Idol and Survivor take a batch of relative unknowns and transform them into overnight stars, often for doing very little other than being watched. Graeme Turner, professor of cultural studies at the University of Queensland in Brisbane and author of Understanding Celebrity, says that reality TV provides a new kind of revenue stream for the industry, because instead of having to pay for established stars and their agents, producers can develop their own stars from scratch. "The only thing that's weak about the business plan is that you can't run repeats." Which is why there'll be a new crop of disposable stars every season.
While many think reality television and the throwaway celebrity have stripped the magic out of stardom, Rojek takes a very different line. He sees the rise of reality TV as a victory for democracy. "The people we regard as role models are emerging from our own ranks. We have become celebrities to ourselves - our passions, our desires, our flaws." He thinks Western society's tendency to subject the stars to intense scrutiny is a healthy part of the democratic process. "The idea that celebrities have feet of clay has got to be better than, say, fascist Germany, when Hitler was seen as a god and you couldn't criticise him without being killed."
Humans do like to gossip, and while some idolise, most are quite happy to dish out dirt on celebrities and spread it. In fact, Turner thinks the word 'worship' misrepresents our relationship with celebrities. He thinks that having someone to look down on makes us feel better about ourselves, so one of the functions of gossip magazines and celebrity-packed tabloids is to create objects of contempt for the working class. And the media are a fickle lot according to Turner, who likens media commentary on celebrities to the football match calls by Australian comedians 'Rampaging' Roy Slaven and H.G. Nelson (played by John Doyle and Greg Pickhaver). "One minute the guy's a genius, and the next minute … he's a joke!"
We need look no further than the imperiled Kate Moss, caught on film snorting cocaine: she went from adored supermodel working for Chanel and Rimmel (among others) to contractless trash-bag within days.
But whatever your moral stance on the media and celebrities, there's no denying that in commercially driven, celebrity saturated Western societies, we're devouring them as if they were consumables - soaking up every last drop of information we can get. But perhaps it's not an epidemic. Perhaps it's only natural. After all, who can argue with hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and very good hair?
So the next time you reach for the gossip mags and catch a fellow shopper's disapproving eye, perhaps you can smile, murmur "It's Darwinian, darling", and enjoy some quality time with Jen.
Erica Harrison is a Sydney science writer and a regular contributor COSMOS.
