Not a short story, but short nonetheless. Thought I'd take a break from fiction and delve into the perilous recesses of personal opinion...
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the Emmys this week. On a day of being miserably couch-ridden due to the ever-so-interrupting cold, they were a welcomed distraction from nose-trumpeting and hippo-hacking. The pre-show ceremonies, however, did not palliate my condition. I know, I know. I could’ve changed the channel. But realizing that millions—if not the majority—of Americans were watching the jaunt of gaudily-clad theatricals down the blood-red carpet, I could not but help use this display as fodder for a critical lens.
“Who are you wearing?” Dolled-up interviewers love to ask this ubiquitous question to arriving actors. But is it necessary? Superfluous, I say. As if we need to know how many already-wealthy fashion designers they keep throwing money at. Sure it’s good for the economy—a niche economy more than likely catering to the have-mores. Fashion is big, I get it. Yet we get enough of it in the endless commercials played between the ceremony itself, let alone the ads during the dreaded empty-your-pockets, holiday-hegemony celebration.
Secondly, E!’s or NBC’s gym-rat/ stiletto-wobbler hosts need to extend their interviewing skills to non-actors. Are actors talented? Yes. Do they work harder than others in TV series production? That, I’m not so sure. What about the often unrecognized voices of directors, producers, writers, film editors, graphic artists, sound engineers, music arrangers? Actors seize spotlights every time. Let’s give the lesser-paid talents, who put in longer hours, their time to shine and be heard. After all, America likes merit—Rosie the Riveter had merit.
Hey, and why not have a pre-show section on those running the Emmys? You know, the people who roll out the red carpet, spruce the place up, and show the “exalted” to their seats. Behind-the-scenes perspectives stimulate and entertain. Awards set designers, parking attendants, photographers, janitors—these worthies would drip ceremony anecdotes from their mouths like melted molasses.
Set designers spotted McConaughey scoping out the place hours before start time. Valets witnessed Julia Roberts and Kristin Wiig arguing over a parking spot. (Well, their limo escorts, really. The actresses chitchatted during the discord.) A bathroom cleaner confessed Seinfeld truly is a germ-a-phobe, after a recently-filled soap dispenser was practically empty when the comedian left the facility. All I’m saying is why can’t we document everyday people running the award show that tends to award TV shows that do just that—dramatize the average persons—albeit in a more scripted, fictional manner?