The Stardom Craze

It seems to me that everybody nowadays has a lust for stardom, a desire not only to be known but to be adored as well. Perhaps the media is partly responsible. And economics is apparently a motivating factor.

The never-ending queues at the gates of television studios are proof of the great eagerness of people to be admitted to the shows. I'm not even talking of those coming to the scheduled auditions, but the multitudes who simply want to be part of the crowd in the so-called "game" shows.

Obviously, many of those who line up for days on end to get to the TV game shows are lured by the giveaways and big prizes. But there are also those who come for the sheer chance of being seen on TV. To this latter group, it's all worth the long wait outside the building, day and night. When they return home after being caught by the quick-panning camera, they are sure to be greeted by excited neighbors as a celebrity of sorts.

By the looks of it, this craving for celebrity status cuts across the different levels of our society. The children of rural peasants see it as a shortcut route for beating the poverty of their families. On the other hand, the very prospect of fame attracts the young well-to-do urbanites.

The fish vendor at the small market in my neighborhood has a teenage daughter she wants me to help get a break in showbiz. Almost every night the girl sings her lungs out at a nearby karaoke joint, spending away part of her mother's hard-earned income. The mother doesn't mind; she wants her songbird to become a star.

My friend working at a bookstore chain also asks me to try his son at the camera. The boy will surely make a good talk-show host, the father tells me. In fact, they always get the lad to emcee in their (the father's) company parties. And his son is taking up Mass Communications in school.

It saddens me every time I'm asked to help someone become a star. Firstly, I'm no star maker. I do film and TV productions, yes; but it's mainly my producers who choose the people appearing in the shows, while I focus on the much broader tasks. Secondly, I myself have had a slight taste of stardom once and found it to do me more harm than good.

In the past, I worked as a radio deejay for five long years or so. This was at a time when there were fewer radio stations in the city, and you had to be really something to be allowed a chance to go on air. You had to have good speaking voice, good English, good grasp of the whole universe.

It was so difficult to get into radio then. The ones who emerged through the various layers of screenings were those deemed capable of blazing in the sky, so to speak. In the small galaxy of local radio in those days only real stars would do.

At first, being a radio star was a great pleasure to me. My grade school teachers sent me admiring letters, and so did people - mostly young ones - I didn't know. An uptown restaurant refused to let me pay for a dinner with my friends. I insisted but the owner was adamant; he asked me instead to sign my name on the restaurant wall.

There were many other frills that came with that little stardom. I watched movies and went discoing without buying tickets. During my final semester at school, the dean devised a special study program for me so I could finish my course without having to regularly attend classroom classes. It was in consideration of my media job, she said.

I got invited everywhere. A school in a city in the Cebu southwest had to suspend classes the after-noon I visited their campus. The students dashed out of the classrooms to meet my group as soon as we arrived.

The popular attention was soon making me uncomfortable going out alone. There had to be someone or a small group with me, always. I would no longer enter a store by myself. I did not want people to see me choosing toilet paper or underwear in the display racks; an alalay (aide) should do that for me. Damned me! Who did I think I was - Elvis Presley?

Many radio fans would visit the station often, to see how I looked like. Once, in a rock concert at a posh hotel, a girl noticed me and started giggling. She grabbed her friend towards me. It was like she had seen the Messiah. And I liked it.

She started adoring me out loud, but her friend was apparently oblivious. The other girl was in fact getting confused about all the fuss her companion was making about me. She asked plainly, "Who's he?" Ouch! What a blow to my bloated ego.

It was a crazy feeling I had at that time. I was embarrassed for the girl who was embarrassed that her friend didn't even know who I was. It was like… well… okay, okay: I was embarrassed, period.

One sure thing, stardom makes one feel self-important. And more than anything, self-important people are most hungry for attention, recognition, and adoration. Strangely, the brighter the star, the deeper the yearning to be noticed.

If this stardom madness could afflict a mere deejay of a small, local radio station, I can't imagine how badly it can hit the real big stars. For sure, only very, very few - if any - don't have it. The star status just gets to your head. Some handle it well, but only outwardly; in private, they are the same miserable wrecks.

The showbiz industry dishes out all kinds of stars these days. There's "Little Star," "Diamond Star," "Star for All Seasons," "Star of the Night," everything from shooting stars to falling stars. And there's a frenzied search on television for new, younger stars. The older stars soon fade away; just look where most of the 90s stars are now.

Those wishing to blast off to the heavens must be circumspect. Parents who want their own unrealized dreams for stardom pursued by their children, and the young people themselves who may have been fired up by their parents' encouragement, must fully understand the price it takes.

You need to do all you can in order to shine: rest very little, bury yourself in work, hone your talents (if you've got any at all) when there's no work, peddle your-self every-where. Once you begin to twinkle, your privacy and precious personal freedom vanish. Worst of all, a blazing star can burn in its own fire.

(E-MAIL: modequillo @gmail.com)