By Martha Irvine
The Associated Press
CHICAGO - Joe Cristina is making a pest of himself.
"Are you ready yet? Hey, pick me. I'm your man," he says, grinning at a casting producer who's setting up a video camera in the VIP room of a Chicago bar. It's 10:30 p.m. on a Friday night and already, Cristina and several others are crammed in the hallway outside, peering in anxiously as the sliding doors open and close.
Before the night is out, a select few will twirl before the camera to show off their bodies. They will complete an application that includes such questions as "Are you comfortable in a bathing suit?" and "What are your sexual turn-ons and fetishes?" And some will share those details on camera - all in a bid to make it on to Elimidate, a raucous and sometimes ruthless reality dating show that, even those auditioning acknowledge, leaves many participants looking foolish.
So why in the world is Cristina, a recent college graduate who now works for a rental car agency, so keen to audition?
"I'm not going to lie to you - it's that 15 minutes of fame," the 21-year-old says, giving a nod to artist Andy Warhol's decades-old prediction that everyone would be famous for that amount of time.
Now it seems that Warhol's words have come true, or - at least - more people than ever want them to be true.
After fame with frenzy
While chasing fame has always been part of the American dream, the quest has turned to frenzy, thanks in part to reality TV, Web cams and "blogging," first-person diaries posted on the Web for all the world to see. Today, even cell phones have cameras that allow a person to e-mail instant photos of themselves to large groups of perfect strangers.
"For years, teens have been standing in front of the mirror, performing with a hairbrush microphone," says Matthew Felling of the Center for Media and Public Affairs, a Washington-based media watchdog. "Now there are multiple industries devoted to showcasing this behavior."
At least one pop culture expert says that access to exposure has helped create a generation of young Americans in love with, as he calls it, "pure, slobbering attention."
"Humans have almost this pathological behavioral characteristic that makes them scream out 'Look at me!"' says Robert Thompson, director of the Center for the Study of Popular Television and a professor at Syracuse University. Time was, he says, when his students were focussed on one thing: making money.
"Now," Thompson says, "given the choice between becoming fabulously wealthy or fabulously famous, most of them choose famous."
Adrienne Katzman, a 23-year-old from Washington, knows what he means. She fantasizes about being on the CBS show The Amazing Race, a reality program that features two-person teams racing across the globe. She's also writing a pop fiction book with a friend in hopes of doing something that will put her "on the map."
"I think fame will give meaning to my life," says Katzman, who works as a corporate fund-raiser. "I mean, who am I right now? A face in a million." Ari Golan, who owns a TV production company in Chicago, sees that hunger for fame all the time when he films shows for Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones, whose programs often get rowdy and outrageous.
"We've always asked what would drive people to expose themselves knowing that it would be degrading," he says. "I guess the average idiot has less sensibility than desire for fame."
Golan is well aware of the irony of his comment, given that he, too, is at the Chicago bar waiting to audition for Elimidate. He knows he's probably older than what the casting crew is looking for (he won't say how old), but wants to give it a shot anyway.
"Maybe it'd be good for my business, a little exposure," he says. "Maybe it'd just be fun."
He never makes it through the door.
Meanwhile, as music from the downstairs dance floor is pounding in the background, casting director Brendon Blincoe fires questions at would-be contestants who sit on a couch and talk to him while the camera is running.
"I don't care how good-looking they are. If they don't show some personality on camera, they're going to suck," Blincoe says before the auditions begin.
He's looking for argumentative. He's looking for sexy. He's looking for someone who'll say just about anything.
Many of those auditioning talk about the thrill of putting themselves out there - something Katzman, the Washingtonian who wants to be on "The Amazing Race," understands.
Offbeat stories about real lives, she says, help push the envelope.
"No one will pay attention to some humdrum love story or hero-saves-the-day story. We need excitement, adventure, something that will keep us drawn in and clinging to the edge of our seats," she says.
"Drama is life nowadays."
Certainly, for this generation of young people, life has been documented almost as if it were their own personal movie, says Thompson, the Syracuse professor.
"Dad had a camera aimed right at them when they exited the womb," he says. "Every time they took a first step or blew out the candles on their birthday cake, somebody was videotaping it."
Martha Irvine can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
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