Salient

On 22 October 1995, women all over England sighed in unison. Exactly nine months later, thousands of families welcomed a new person into their lives. It was the night of the fifth episode of the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice—the happy evening on which we saw Colin Firth jump into a lake and emerge with his white shirt clinging to his chest, his dark curls framing his brooding eyes. My fingers tremble as I type this; it takes all the strength that I can muster to hold myself back from turning this column into a work of erotic fiction.

The next day even the most reputable newspapers reported the breaking news. The director, Simon Langton, wrote: “Nobody had the slightest inkling that Colin Firth, wearing a lightweight cotton voile shirt with his nipples showing underneath, would have such an effect.” Giggle. Colin. Giggle. Nipples. As a fan of all things trivial, I adore it when events like this make the front page. Long gone are the days when newspapers were considered great sources of information, so we may as well delight in the transparency of such journalism. Trash-mag journalism is incredibly appealing to me; I dream of a time when I’ll spend my days writing articles instructing readers how to lose seven kilograms in seven seconds.

Last week anyone who picked up a newspaper or popped online would have found it hard to miss the numerous articles about Britain’s newest star, Susan Boyle. A self-proclaimed “short and dumpy” woman from Blackburn, Susan surprised a severe and cynical audience on last week’s episode of Britain’s Got Talent and has since become an internet phenomenon. Videos of her performance of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ from Les Misérables have had well over 50 million hits at the time of writing, and columnists all over New Zealand have since delighted in analysing the reasons behind her success. The least cynical proclaim her as a prodigious talent who never got her ‘big break’, and the more sceptical emphasise the fact that before she started singing, the cruel audience cat-called and laughed at her for reasons no less superficial than her looks. It is the surprise that such a wonderful voice could come from someone so unattractive, they suggest, that provoked the audience to stand and cheer as wildly as they did.

Now for those of you who haven’t seen her, Susan Boyle is a forty-seven year old woman who is, I think, reasonably attractive. She isn’t a busty, botoxed Hollywood Barbie, but I wouldn’t be unhappy if I reached forty-seven and looked as fresh-faced as she does. Nonetheless, barely an article has been written that doesn’t at least mention her physical appearance—clear evidence of our connection of success and good looks in this image obsessed-world. To analyse this too carefully would be both boring and hypocritical; I am, after all, hoping to write a number of articles in my lifetime on the merits of pastel colours during the spring season.

The show itself is supremely and overtly manipulative. Once I had seen Susan Boyle’s audition I was hooked—I spent at least an hour looking up other clips from previous seasons. I don’t pretend that I am above enjoying the emotional highs and lows that the producers cleverly manoeuvre, but I must admit that the sentimentality of the show surprised me. The Brits have started letting their stiff upper lips quiver through stories of the adversity the contestants have faced, and the ‘fighters’ seem to be the ones who receive the most praise. Susan Boyle, the never-been kissed virgin who has spent her life looking after her ill mother, George Sampson, the little Billy Elliott who wants to dance his way out of his council estate, and Andrew Johnston, the Soprano choirboy who has been bullied constantly because of his singing. All of them went far in the competition, and all of them were praised for their fighting spirits.

Meanwhile, Lydia Hurley, an 11 year old who sang a song called ‘Posh’ in an upper-class accent was stopped in her tracks by Simon, who said on the show that he hates “stage-school monsters”. It’s not just the triumph of the average-looking, then, that makes the success of people like Susan Boyle so euphoric for the audience. The audience encourages those who want a better life, and are fighting the oppressive British class system. They are the ones who Britain is backing.

I’m not sure I’ve met anyone who has read Pride and Prejudice and not fallen in love with the heroine, Elizabeth Bennett. Fiery and intelligent, though with little money, she wins the love of Mr Darcy despite his obsession with marrying a well connected woman. Susan, with that voice, I bet Colin Firth is on the way to Blackburn.

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