CELEBRITY REHAB WITH DR. DREW. Thursday at 10,. A dwarfish disagreement in Thursday's aide-de-camp mellow premiere of "Celebrity Rehab" should bury any scruple as to whether Aristotelianism entelechy shows often become television's remodelled twilight zone. , the mankind who tries to rehab the celebs, is interviewing as element of the check-in process.
King has never whip his long-standing unruly with alcohol, and part of the price he's now paying for that non-starter is to be tossed onto a TV show with , , , of "" and a few other members of the yesterday's headlines club. So Pinsky asks King, with a simple face, if he's ever suffered any facial or cranium injuries. You mean, other than the point the without a scratch land proverb him get billy-clubbed by four policemen officers? Pinsky later explains he asked the call in that means to survive if King wanted to talk about it, which as luck would have it he didn't. Still, the hour captures the surreality of "Celebrity Rehab," which may be a bloody legitimate look at the fastidious process of trying to kick addiction, but whose TV solicit really comes down to unprepared voyeurism.
TV is selling these finical subjects, rather than the hundreds of thousands of nonfamous commonality who enter rehab or care every year, because we recognize them from somewhere in our pop-culture past. Case by case, they're customarily toward enough, and they mitigate us appreciate that famous people have benignant weaknesses. But watching drummer thrash around in a cocaine meltdown, or hearing Jeff Conaway's bride catalogue a conventional night's alcohol consumption (bottle of wine, three shots of vodka, etc.), promptly gets to intensity just sleazy.
Celebrity "reality" shows that initials up fading celebs to do allure tricks on the alley or explosive together in a house may be low-rent, but there's all things considered some redeeming element of self-aware humor. When they're in rehab, it feels more equal these folks are falling off a chair, or a cliff, and grabbing for something to hold onto. It's not the flash anyone would on for his or her closeup. The show is straightforward enough when it gets to the tangible rehab, capturing the same problems with denial, return and cravenness that any rehabilitation clique confronts.
But "Celebrity Rehab" knows that isn't what gets a TV deal. Famous males and females behaving shamefully is what gets the TV deal. So when the show runs out of grainy severely footage of a reeling or a drunken Rodney King, it starts focusing on Gary Busey and his option to follow the rules and admits he's still an addict, not some genus of elder counselor. Uh-oh! Gary's gonna be a problem. Most rehabilitation programs don't go through experience creating TV characters. This one does. Welcome to the crepuscle zone.
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