Imagine this.
You are a bright young female celebrity, emerging from years of training, struggles, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it roles to break out onto the international scene. You’re famous. You’re beautiful. You’re young, but tough; and the future is spread out in front of you for the taking.
And then you get the phone call. It’s a leading fashion magazine, and they want to put you on the cover. Yes, YOU. The shoot goes well – albeit slightly uncomfortable – and they take you out for lunch to speak with one of their leading journalists, who will be profiling you.
He’s older, approaching 50. You sit down, and he compliments your beauty. You feel, once again, slightly uncomfortable, but he’s held in high esteem so you put on your best smile and turn up the charm. Weeks later when you read the article, your skin crawls. It’s not what he said, but how he said it – the tone of his piece is leery, and patronising, and over sexualising what you thought was meant to be a conversation about your career.
You’re disappointed. But what were you expecting?
In recent months, we have seen a spate of high-profile male journalists come under fire for the tone of their interview profiles.
Why were they cooking together? Was she in his house? Why? They are questions we almost can’t bear to ask, but Haskell would love you to anyway. The interview is leery in its fatherly gaze, dripping with sexual nuance.
But wait, it gets worse. Haskell goes on to paint Gomez – who has worked full time since age six, and owns her own production company – as his damsel in distress, arriving at his door amidst “an unusually wet and windy evening in Los Angeles.” He talks in great depth about her mental illness, about her pretty-in-pink young female fans. The Gomez we see is devoid of her usual strength and professionalism, something… weaker.
“Even as she projects strength and self-assuredness, Gomez is not stingy with frailty,” says Haskell. “’I’ve cried onstage more times than I can count, and I’m not a cute crier,’ she says.”
To Haskell, she is young. Lonely. Desperate for domesticity, for a simple life – like cooking her favourite dinner for a man, on a rainy night, to the tunes of Dolly Parton. Lucky she had him, right?
“’Oh, Mylanta!’ she wails, watching her cheesy potatoes travel around the table, a whiff of the simpler joys of home. ‘Look, I love what I do, and I’m aware of how lucky I am, but—how can I say this without sounding weird? I just really can’t wait for people to forget about me’,” Haskell writes.
It feels like an episode of the Brady Bunch.
There's no place for Mad Men-esque antics in modern journalism. (Image: Debmar-Mercury 20th Television)
The temptation to judge the older male reporter in his plight to portray the beautiful young starlet hangs heavy. But can you really blame Cohen, or Haskell, or the hordes of other male writers for falling to the knees in the presence of a star? Do they know any better? Is this simply the comet’s tail of a tradition, an understanding of gender roles, that traces itself back to almost the beginning of time?
One thing is certain. The tone of these articles is uncomfortable to read. The gushing descriptions of their beauty, the numerous references to their age… it’s a style that feels dated, a relic of a bygone era. A lingering wink that belongs in Mad Men, not modern journalism.
For comparison’s sake, I spent some time trawling online for the instance of female reporters interviewing handsome young men. I wanted to know if, given the same opportunity, their responses to youth and beauty would be the same.
Unsurprisingly, the level of respect was infinitely higher. When 60-year-old American entertainment journalist Katie Couric interviewed Prince Harry, for example, she did not even mention his looks, introducing him instead for his charity work, cheeky sense of humour, and “warm and personal side” when speaking about his Grandmother, the Queen.
Australian veteran reporter Angela Bishop, when speaking with Hollywood actor Aaron Eckhart, touched on travel, Formula One (which he was here to attend), his new movie, and his career as a whole. Not a single mention of his looks, his photoshoots, or his legions of female fans. Oh, the restraint!
Margot told 'The Project' she felt her Vanity Fair interview had a 'creepy undertone'. (Image: Getty)
In fact, once you step out of the trashy world of celebrity gossip and into the hallowed realm of interview pieces with Hollywood’s biggest stars - the crème de la crème of entertainment reporting - you’ll actually be hard pressed to find a female reporter who shows the same shameless attraction to their subject.
Whether it’s because of instinct, personal experience, or simply respect; smart female writers know that there’s always more to someone’s story than their looks alone. We’ve had to fight that battle ourselves a long time ago.
The age-old custom for powerhouse publications like Vogue and Vanity Fair, both steeped in tradition, to use an older male journalist to profile a younger female star must certainly be on its way out. When I first considered the quandary of the roles - older man, younger female, the power play of journalist and subject - I was sure that the only solution was to avoid it altogether.
But just as female writers have taught themselves to look beyond sexuality or easy angles, male writers must to the same. Be better. Try harder. Aim higher. Because with the new wave of unbelievable talent sweeping through Hollywood, they better catch up quick - or get left behind, with that leery wink and a pinch on the bum.
Top Comments
ALL OF THE PENDING!
Gimme mah goddamned validation. Got the DTs.
That Vanity Fair article about Margot Robbie was one of the most absurd and revolting articles I have ever read. I can't believe an editor published it.