Forever your gall

Here's the thing: I've only seen one episode of American Idol. (It was a bad-auditions episode, and frankly, I was hoping for worse.) I mostly know Paula Abdul as a dancer and choreographer who stumbled into a couple hit records in the late 80s and early 90s. I, um, owned Forever Your Girl on cassette. (And I still contend that "Knocked Out" is a great song, even if it owes most of its compelling rhythm to "Rock Steady" by Levert.) So I was curious to see Bravo's reality show based on Paula's life. I've watched all five episodes thus far, and have come to a few conclusions.

For one: that woman is a freaking mess!

(For another: She's kind of an asshole too.)

Which is not to say that I think Paula has nothing to offer. Nobody in their right mind would claim that she's a great singer, but I'll totally defend her as a dancer and choreographer. When I was in 11th grade (20 years ago), I was such a huge fan of Control and its Paula-choreographed videos that somebody referred to me as "that girl who dances like Janet Jackson." (I still glow a little bit just thinking about that.)

Paula's choreography always struck me as making so much sense: she'd coordinate physical movements to the most interesting part of the song, whether it was the lyrics, the beat, the bassline or some minor flourish in the music. Whether by coincidence or early exposure, she dances the way I dance -- only much, much, much better.

So I was somewhat stoked to see "Hey Paula." I thought it could be a fun look at someone whose earlier work I've enjoyed. But it became a fascinating glimpse into a mind teetering on the edge of total collapse, a 40-car trainwreck with coal dust, scrap metal and chicken feathers flying everywhere.

The first episode seemed kinda tame. Paula went to the Grammys, flew to Philly for a late-night jewelry-hawking session on QVC that same night and then flew back home. It wasn't exactly riveting TV, but there were a few tense moments in there. For instance, Paula's assistants didn't pack comfy clothes for her late-night flight, and some of the jewelry pieces weren't what Paula had specified. She shook her head in frustration a few times, but got through it okay.

The second episode was where things started to take a turn. Paula was in New York to receive a Woman of the Year award from some young-fashion-designer group (an award given by Tim Freakin' Gunn!!!), meet with some folks about her perfume line and do a marathon press junket for American Idol.

I think we all know how that one went. Paula's narration in the second episode explained that she'd suffered from insomnia for years, and that combined with the cold she got in New York made her kinda loopy on-air. Her publicist Jeff bolsters this story; as he watches her self-destruct on the monitors, he marvels about what a pro Paula is, that she's on her 40th interview and he doesn't know how she does it. (He also acknowledges that her answers are getting more and more erratic as the interviews drag on, but doesn't do anything to stop the interviews or get Paula to take a break. Which makes me think he kinda sucks as a publicist.)

But the Idol interview debacle was just the cherry on top of a crazy-ass sundae. The day before, Paula had gone to the offices of the folks creating her perfume line and had met with them. She started off fairly coherent -- but I should qualify that. "Coherent" for Paula on this show means capable of getting out about 3/4 of a sentence and only using hand gestures and/or noises to complete her thoughts about 20% of the time. The bar is low, folks.

By the end of the meeting session, she was hunkered down on the floor of the perfume offices, sniffing test strips and laughing her unsettling inpatient laugh. In fairness, she had dropped a test strip and bent down to pick it up, but... why did she stay down there? She seemed to think she was being bubbly and charming, but the people around her were laughing that embarrassed, indulgent maybe-if-we-laugh-she'll-stop kind of chuckle. What Paula might not have noticed was that her business partners were among those embarrassed, which might not bode well for her perfume line.

But honestly: why the hell does Paula Abdul have a perfume line? Some hyphenated careers make sense: dancer-choreographer, dancer-singer, singer-singing judge. But choreographer-dancer-singer-singing judge-maker of fine smells?! It just doesn't seem like a logical use of Paula's talents. (I'm not sure singing was, either, but that ship has sailed.)

It's a recipe for trouble: take a person who's extremely talented in one area, but who's trying business ventures in just about every other possible area in a push to capitalize on every opportunity, add an inability and/or unwillingness to take basic care of themselves in terms of food and sleep, and toss in several public appearances a week. Even the most gracious person in the world would start to fall apart on that regimen.

The thing is, though, Paula doesn't come across as the most gracious person in the world. She comes across as a blame-shifting, narcissistic drama queen with a mind-boggling sense of entitlement and damn near no compassion for her fellow humans unless they're kissing her ass from a respectful distance. What makes this parade of unpleasantness all the more off-putting is how she keeps insisting that she's America's sweetheart despite providing evidence to the contrary on every episode.

That's kind of a theme with her: she's blameless, innocent, always a victim, always surrounded by incompetence and misperceptions. Paula frequently rolls her eyes as she mugs at the camera, sometimes even saying, "You see what I have to put up with?" What I see is someone who's failed to recognize that if something's always going wrong around you, maybe the problem is you. She regularly complains about miscommunication and other people not understanding her or knowing the truth, but the woman can barely string a sentence together. Whose fault is it that you're misunderstood if you're incoherent, Paula?

I think I finally crossed over to finding Paula revolting during the fourth episode, when she hit a snag at another QVC appearance. Apparently, every season, she gives her jewelry to the contestants on American Idol. Which is actually quite nice, so I'll give her a point there. But she was freaking out that her manager at QVC hadn't set aside enough jewelry for the AI contestants. (I'm still not sure what the consequences of that would be; she might have to order more jewelry for the contestants and send it to them later or maybe just give them fruit baskets or something else instead.) I'm taking forever to set this up, but I hope you get just how silly and ultimately inconsequential this conflict was.

Paula, true to form, started crying and declaring that how nobody was respecting her and how she'd never experienced that kind of treatment ever in the industry -- she seems to say that a lot, which kinda renders it false, if you ask me. After regrouping and appearing to get a little perspective, she told the camera wearily, "I'm just tired of people not treating me like the gift that I am."

I had to rewind a couple times to be sure she actually said that. And see, I'm a big enough sap that I think it would be a beautiful world if every human being (and all dogs and most cats) were treated like a gift, 'cause really, we are. But Paula isn't applying this lovely philosophy to the rest of the world; she's applying it solely to herself.

And I'm thinking, honey, you danced with an animated cat. Get the hell over yourself.

I'm really starting to feel for her assistants. Yes, that's plural; she has several. Her hair and makeup dude, her wardrobe stylist, her main assistant and her assistant assistant. Plus her (kinda useless) publicist and whatever consultants or managers she needs for the task at hand, be it selling something on QVC or getting through a well-prepped appearance on Letterman. It's weird; you'd think the only things she had to do herself were sleeping and eating. But she can't seem to find the time to do either, and whines about this to her klatch of assistants every single episode.

Worst of all, though, is the now-famous "Bratz movie" meltdown from the fifth episode. First, Paula hides a packet of beef jerky that looks quite a bit like dog poo (shrinkwrapped dog poo with a "beef jerky" label on it, but still) in an assistant's bed as a prank. When the assistant finds it and dutifully screams, Paula damn near has an aneurysm laughing in her room. Good-natured hijinks, folks!

But then, she gets an email on her PDA and -- oh, let's just watch.

We see so many of the recurring themes here: the complaints about mistreatment, the victimization, the delusions of grandeur. Not only is it kinda presumptuous to think that God won't stop business deals from falling through, being shielded from the Bratz movie is the very sort of thing I'd want an interventionist God to do on my behalf.

Throughout the series, Paula has insisted that she doesn't use recreational drugs. (Note that such a statement still leaves the door wide open for a truckload of prescription medication to sail through.) If I could offer Paula one piece of advice, it would be this: Even if you aren't all hopped up on booze and pills, say that you are.

Say that you are and get checked into some major long-term facility where they'll teach you to take care of yourself, where you'll learn to value the feelings of others, where you can get over this need to be viewed as the put-upon plucky underdog, where you can try to develop relationships with people who aren't on your payroll and will tell you "no" and "you were late so I left" and "knock that off right now!"

Or, y'know, keep on living like Elvis. Just remember, the throne at the end of that road isn't the one marked "Princess of the Universe."

Comments

[Cheesemeister]

Paula really is a train wreck. I'm pretty sure she's addicted to prescription pain killers but something about her makes me suspect there may be a little coke mixed in there, and I'm not talking the soft drink.

[Felicia]

Check out clips of her from the Dr. Phil special that aired last year where she wonders why she can't get a man. It's 30 minutes of meltdown.

[BronzeMan]

Thanks for this recap. I tried to watch the show but had to look away, really, it was so scarring to sit through any of it. The worst part of _Hey Paula_ was its timeless metaphorical value, since Paula Abdul is a symbol of the worst character traits we have to war against in ourselves, and finally avoid outright in others.

Paula's show unpleasantly reminded me of the most annoying people I've had to cut out of my life recently: snarky colleagues, self-important students, and of course, that annoying friend everyone has who takes a long time to get rid of. There'sa rampant American epidemic of selfishness and dissipation that Paula Abdul crystallizes. It's painful to watch and painful to suffer in real time.

The best we can all do is be on guard against any whiffs of self-important disregard for others in ourselves. Otherwise, we too will be letting out brain farts in national interviews and crying about some retail agent not giving us free pendants.

John

[SueBee]

SNAP! Double check that last pic--when did she turn into Steven Tyler? What the? If that won't make a girl check-in to an "assistance facility" nothing will. God bless!