In the second season premiere of “My Life on the D-List” (Tuesday, June 6, 9pm, Bravo), comedienne Kathy Griffin, fresh from playing the Paramount, spends a substantial amount of time tooling around Charlottesville—and the resulting footage is not pretty (just take a glance at the adjoining sidebar, and recoil at our rube-itude). But, in classic Griffin fashion, she reserves the most painful moments for herself, showcasing not one, but two incidents of soul-shattering humiliation. In the first, the proclamation ceremony for Kathy Griffin Day in Louis-ville, Kentucky, is attended by literally 10 people—nine of whom work in City Hall. In the second, she is delighted when the charity auction she set up on eBay tops $20,000, only to discover that most of the bids are fakes. “This wouldn’t happen to Nicole Kidman,” she says, devastated.
Well, that’s because Nicole Kidman is a legitimate celebrity. And Kathy Griffin is something else entirely. While she’s built a sizeable Hollywood resumé, it’s not exactly filled with top-tier material. Best known as the sassy sidekick on the late Brooke Shields laffer “Suddenly Susan,” the girl’s career has since been stuck somewhere between laughable and nonexistent: She’s the kind of actor who manages to score a role in Pulp Fiction, but absolutely nobody notices. Despite the 52 projects listed under her name on the Internet Movie Database, nothing can change the fact that Kathy Griffin is not a star. Kathy Griffin will never be a star. Kathy Griffin is simply an ordinary person with an almost pathological lust for fame who somehow clawed her way into Hollywood and landed some third-tier gigs out of sheer force of will.
But here’s the thing: Kathy Griffin freely acknowledges this. And that is why we should embrace her.
There is nothing particularly remarkable about Kathy Griffin. You know a Kathy Griffin. You went to high school with a Kathy Griffin. She’s that kind-of-plain girl who was really funny, and so eventually got invited to sit at the cool kids’ table, but was also smart enough to see through their BS, and would come to your sleepovers and talk shit about them behind their backs.
This sort of ladder-climbing, super-bitchy backstabbing is Griffin’s bread and butter, and remains her major contribution to America’s pop culture landscape. She has managed to infiltrate the elusive Club Fame that we all, admittedly or not, want to be a part of, and she gleefully lifts the curtain to show us just how stupid and/or crazy its den-izens really are. Consider her mind- blowing account of her stint on “Hollywood Squares,” where she watched Little Richard berate Anna Nicole Smith backstage be-cause he actually thought her tiny dog was the puppet Triumph the Insult Comic Dog (who had been harassing the rock ‘n’ roll legend during the taping). Or her dead-on analysis of why “America’s Next Top Model” host Tyra Banks switches from Snotty Bitch Tyra to Ghetto Tyra during the judging in order to score street cred.
Now, lots of folks make fun of celebrities. (The male version of Kathy Griffin, David Spade, has made quite a career out of it, to name just one.) And yet, at the same time, the vast majority of us can’t resist thumbing through Us Weekly in the checkout line, and some of us have even been known to get into office screaming matches about who’s more sympathetic, Angelina or Jennifer. (By the way, if you side with Jennifer, you are a loser.) We just act like we’re above it all. What sets Griffin apart is that she never acts like she’s above it. She’s completely, totally self-aware that, even as she tears down the Miracle-Tanned tower of celebrity, she is desperate to be sitting atop it. She’s just too damn cool to pretend that she’s too cool for school.
I’ll bet Nicole Kidman could never say that.
Kathy does C’ville
Five great local moments captured on Griffin’s
“My Life on the D List”
5. Griffin and her husband, Matt, do a “surprise” visit at the home of a Charlottesville fan named Prakash, who suffers from rheumatoid arthritis. (Griffin’s rationale: “Because I’m a giver…and also to get some free press.”) After a brief meet-and-greet, she and Matt leave, and joke in the limo about how Prakash was totally faking it in order to scam a visit. Griffin vows to do the same with her mother to get some face time with Debbie Reynolds.
4. Nattily dressed WCAV general assignment reporter Phillip Stewart accompanies Griffin on her arthritic fan visit. Following his pre-interview, Stewart—referred to as “D-List reporter” by the editors, and who are we to argue?—gives a disposable camera to his cameraman and asks for a picture with Griffin, explaining that he’s a “huge fan of the show, [and] trying to remain as professional as possible.” Not so much on that last part there, Phil.
3. Charlottesville Police Chief Tim Longo greets Griffin when she arrives at the Boar’s Head Inn. Longo identifies himself as a “huge fan,” gives her flowers (!) and then informs her that the police will escort her to her show at the Paramount. (Was there really nothing better for the chief of police to do than lead a stand-up comic around town that night?) In any event, Griffin is sure that the chief is in love with her, and tells husband, Matt, to prepare for a night of swinging with the Longos. Longo then shows up for the escort looking fine in his civvies, blue jeans and a white, untucked button-down shirt. Ladies and gentlemen, last call for boarding the dreamboat…
2. After the show, Paramount impresario Chad Hershner informs Griffin that, “I have a group of about 20 gay guys who have stayed to see you…” Charming.
1. Dr. John Hong (who is, at the very least, among the 20 gay guys Hershner alluded to) pays Griffin a backstage visit. The moment he crosses the threshold into the D-lister’s dressing room, the internist/ medical columnist/ice dancer ceases to be a human being and, for the next five minutes, more closely resembles a cartoon caricature of a human being. Seriously, it’s like Griffin is acting in Who Framed Roger Rabbit? as Hong literally hops around the room just squealing with excitement that he’s getting to meet this woman, the tertiary lead on “Suddenly Susan.” He tells her she is his favorite comedienne of all time, is “so hot” and “so sexy, baby.” The viewer ponders what might happen should he meet, say, Nicole Kidman, but quickly forgets all that once he starts inquiring about her gynecological health and busts out what I would propose to be Charlottes-ville’s new tourism slogan: “If you ever need a Pap, come over here to Charlottes-ville. Dr. Hong.” Can’t you just see the billboards?—E.R.