User Comments:
5 out of 6 people found the following comment useful:-
The Michael Crichton Worship Hour, 3 February 2003
Author:
rrichr from Berkeley CA
I've been fortunate to have spent some time living in the South and
getting
to know southerners, including many in Charlie Rose' home state of North
Carolina. The South is a singular region and contributes significantly to
the American mosaic. I'm not talking about the `Big South'; Atlanta,
Charlotte, etc. but the South of small to mid-sized towns where traces of
authentic regionality still remain. Once you get past the almost
inescapable, low-grade xenophobia that southerners often exhibit, they
can
be amazingly good-natured and generous. People everywhere have this
capacity, of course, but southerners have a certain, unique way of doing
it,
a certain style. They also can, if one steps over lines that are often
invisible to all except the natives, be quite judgmental and unforgiving.
But again, it's all done with that certain style. Because I appreciate
southerners, I appreciate Charlie Rose who is nothing if not southern. A
product of the granitic Americana that still lives below the Mason-Dixon,
and further polished by matriculation at Duke, the Stanford of the East,
or
Yale of the South, whichever works for you, Charlie Rose has enough suave
for an entire ballroom of people and is slicker than snot on a glass
doorknob.
This is one reason why his show works so well. Another is that Mr. Rose
is a
lawyer by training (Duke Law, of course), and he does not interview
guests
as much as cross-examines them. But he does it with such riveting savoir
faire that his guests seldom know what has hit them; no need for anyone
to
be under oath. We are reminded that it's not what one does so much as how
one does it; an understanding that must absolutely be grasped for
successful
navigation of the bayous of southern society. Rose's interviews of
relevant
figures in diplomatic and political circles, as well as his timely foci
on
other critical current affairs are often real public services, more than
worthy of our time and attention. In the days following 9/11, there was
seldom a better place to be on the tube than the Charlie Show. Mr. Rose
has
certainly paid his dues and established his well-deserved niche. But why
is
he such an unabashed Celebrity Hag?
Watching Charlie Rose fawn over someone like, for example, Tom Cruise,
actually seeming to care what he thinks, is highly embarrassing. Sure Mr.
Cruise is a competent actor. I admire his integrity and lack of obvious
vanity in such films as Born On The Fourth Of July. Hell, I didn't even
mind
him in Legend. But let's keep it real. There's something about getting
paid
cyclopean amounts of money that tends to bring out the best in many of
us. I
certainly appreciate film, but if I find myself even slightly concerned
about the details of Tom Cruise's thought process, or that of almost any
actor, so many of whom are remarkably uninteresting `in person', I'll
know
that I no longer have a life. I mean, do Julianne Moore or Nicole Kidman,
both undeniably luminous, really have anything to tell us, especially
now?
Tom Hanks? For the entire hour? (If only Charlie and I were both black so
I
could say, `N****r, please.' ) Sure, Tom's a nice guy, but so am I,
despite
my lack of millions, and I have had more than a few reasons not to keep
the
nice going.
We, and Charlie, genuflect to such people because we are becoming a
society
of actors; unauthentic, psychologically-truncated role players and
poseurs.
We just don't get paid big bucks for it; the dubious index by which we
almost all measure our worth. We want to be someone else but without ever
having discovered our true selves. Charlie Rose may not quite understand
this, but he definitely knows how to use it. Sorry, Charlie, but when I
see
a Hollywood mug at the oak table, I'm gone, especially when said mug
belongs
to the astonishingly successful Michael Crichton, the person whom, I
suspect, Charlie himself really wants to be. Crichton, ever gracious, as
someone with his cash reserves can be, seems almost embarrassed at times
by
Charlie's slightly goggled-eyed supplication. You're cool too, C.R. Trust
me. We all are, if you know how to see it. But, when the dust settles,
I'll
keep my Confederate money on you, Charlie, even if Benjamin Netanyahu
rather
snoidily rejected your offer to bear diplomatic communications to Hosni
Mubarak. (Hey, Bibi's on the bench. You're still out there, plus you had
to
leave something for him to do, right?) You're still ok, even when your
impatience at not being allowed to define international policy on the air
nearly gets the better of you. Thanks for the many good moments. Keep up
the
good work.
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