Dialogue: When fame is a four-letter word

In Victorian times fame and fortune were awarded to those who not only worked hard but also were extraordinarily good at something. Serious progress was made in science, technology and the arts and those who found themselves continually in the news were heroes, role models or talented.

Then, aided by the advent of television, this changed. Suddenly the ordinary bloke could get their 15 minutes of fame but not have to do much because there were of billions of equally ordinary and talentless viewers living under the misguided principle that those on TV must in some way be better than them.

If Woody Allen is right and 80 per cent of success is about turning up, then a person can turn up in the right place at the right time in front of millions of people ... and a star is born.

We live in an age when the great majority who are labelled famous, stars or role models have done nothing more than hired a great publicist. Popular culture is littered with fantasy personalities who are the creations of their spin-doctors.

Politicians who once kissed babies to portray the softer side of their public image now must adopt more elaborate publicity strategies to fight through the plethora of personalities clogging the media.

When I sat through the tedious news story of our Prime Minister's unusual mountain climbing holiday, I couldn't help wondering if Helen Clark would have preferred a 10-day Club Med package to unwind but thought it might look a little frivolous.

Strangely, even the dumbest of consumers are aware that most of our heroes are media inventions. We all play the game and when someone threatens to blow the whistle on the scam, we brand him or her a spoilsport.

Consider Princess Anne, probably the most intelligent royal, commenting on the absurdity of the public presenting the Royals with flowers on walkabouts. Indeed, why continue with the charade that later in the day Her Majesty and family would be washing vases and flower arranging in the drawing room. Nevertheless, the pragmatic Anne was chastised by a public which prefers escapism and fantasy.

It was the public who elevated a virginal bride who scraped through secondary school but married well to an almost saint-like status. Diana, the Princess of Wales, ironically became both the queen of hearts and the mistress of media manipulation.

When Liz Hurley launches a multimillion-dollar career off the back of a brief appearance in an even briefer dress, it becomes obvious that the criteria for public adoration have been set too low. Hire a good spin doctor and one can bounce back even after embarrassing expose, or so found Liz's ex, Hugh Grant. He even did talk shows soon after his fall from grace, no doubt encouraged by his publicist to laugh off his indiscretion and get back on the promotional horse.

Our popular culture breeds pseudo celebrities famous for being famous. These stars are created by smart publicists, elevated by the media and sanctioned by the mob. Joe and Joanne Average will readily grant anyone stardom as long as they play by the unwritten rules.

Rule one is don't believe your own publicity. That's why I like that Nick from Shortland Street. He turns up, does his lines and, as far as we know, doesn't think it grants him a ticket to Hollywood. He always looks bemused about being on television even when supposedly in character.

The second rule is to remember those who made you can break you just as easily. It's a fine-edged sword playing the media game with the public. It wears thin hearing celebrities bemoan paparazzi and fans who are vital participants in the whole fame game.

One moment we are congratulating Liz Gunn for her efforts on behalf of child abuse. But soon we are denying her any sympathy when she finds the heat of the media too hot. While she may have been forgiven for the Rangi Whakaruru debacle, her cries of media victimisation seemed self-indulgent when considering the true victims of abuse she sought to represent.

I couldn't help thinking a spin-doctor could have weaved a positive angle into the affair. As Oscar Wilde, himself a victim of public pressure, put it ... the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.