Is Jennifer Lopez The Bellwether?

By Richard Laermer, Guest Author

As we move from mediocrity (the 2000s) into a decade of fabulous, forward-thinking, show-us positivism, we’ll always remember the star from these years who turned our cynicism into a beloved trait, none other than J. Lo “Don’t Call Me That” Lopez.

People who work in media-could be you-constantly shake their ink-stained heads over the antics that any Hollywood figure will engage in to remain in the news. For instance, did you know that Tom “Roseanne’s Ex” Arnold, to promote his latest movie, let People magazine know—horrors—that he had a low sperm count and it was “killing him” that he wasn’t able to have “our own child” with his bride Julie. (Oh, and they divorced a year later after his movie tanked, when she probably realized his sperm count was not the lowest thing about him—baby-making skills notwithstanding.)

In the 1930s, megastars of the studio system were focused on the buzz they could get from having children or talking of some charity they were sort of involved in, and this most likely culminated in 1960` in the mother of all such campaigns: Elizabeth Taylor’s desperate quest for an Oscar for Butterfield 8, which if you’ve seen the movie on Turner Classics, you know was desperate even for Miss Taylor.

In that moment in time, Taylor portrayed herself as someone who was near death (not in the movie, but in the press, so keep up!), and voters felt so bad that a major star could have kicked it that they gave her the goddamn award.

No matter how outrageous the gimmick or how much the fake support for the rainforests may seem to anger the masses, filmgoers the world over still will always need objects to worship. And the next decade will not change that one bit.

Larger-than-life figures provide us a service. Love them, despise their hair, chuckle when they hook up, hate them for being rich, but in the end we always plunk down for their offering.

Until now.

Thanks to Jennifer Lopez, people have decidedly had enough of “image a day” puffery. This woman has tried everything, and I’m not exaggerating: she’s been a diva, a movie star, a romantic comedian, a put-upon daughter, a lady from the Bronx, a married “mama,” a half of a Hollywood duo, a disco starlet, a Chiquita, and my favorite: the next Gloria Estefan. She even was maybe pregnant for a while in 2007—coyly denying it, then claiming it at a concert where her nearby husband swore, half-kidding, “We’ll go away now”—and yet by milking her pre-pregnancy month helped to heighten a national debate that did not work; she sold hardly any of two CDs that were rushed out (Spanish-language, then pop). She and Anthony were having twins—no pun apparently intended.

It was probably her 2003 Bennifer Show with former movie stud Ben Affleck that lost her the opportunity for true Elizabeth Taylorhood. During their time together, they pretended so diligently to be in love that even people who normally eat up this stuff got a little nauseous over their antics. Watching Af-Lo on Dateline NBC talking up their evenings preparing meals together—when they looked chemically like they had just met—as a moment for the cookbooks: It was there that their PR camp must have realized it had taken things too far, because in the coming weeks, as Ben was “caught” at a Vegas strip show after cameras were sent a media alert . . . their tearful breakup gave Jennifer a little more time in the spotlight…

Then Lo disappeared for nearly two years, only to try three new images, namely Jane Fonda sidekick, wedded to a teenage sweetheart and ultimately, “Call me Jennifer,” for she had matured, all of which bombed in a crash of cacophony.

But in an outrageously long paragraph, it’s time to consider what this means for Hollywood in the future. Whereas Jay Low used her fame in the most ridiculous way (The Affleck Chronicles were only one example of her roller-coaster antics: J. Lo Blows were as follows: moaning about abusive childhood memories for her role as an abused wife; being from the Bronx for the tall tale Maid in Manhattan; and finally, ironically, the victim of media hype for her underestimated tour dates (“my first time on stage!”) with husband Marc Antony. Credit where it’s due, though: remember the 2003 Britney Madonna Lip Lock on the base-level MTV Music Awards? It was unveiled that Lopez was supposed to be the third set of lips but bowed out, claiming that retakes on a film were due. She told a reporter later that she – not her words – didn’t want to be the butt (sorry, had to) of any more national jokes, which any Trendspotter knows is impossible, since that’s her trade.), others have taken to being a little more honest about who they are. I appreciated the new star Topher Grace (Eric, the redheaded kid from That 70’s Show who hilariously played himself in Ocean’s Something before becoming a typical star-on-the-rise) saying to Parade magazine: “I just hope I don’t screw this up, because that’s the kind of guy I am.” Even if it’s faux, you feel good hearing something a vaguely regular guy.

And there is something to be said for people like Lopez who think they are G-ds in fact getting a comeuppance from their fans. Overexposure has killed many a career in every trade. In 2001, J. Lo, now called Jennifer, was the biggest of the big, and is now a star most likely to be found soon on Trivial Pursuit. And her album of 2007, “Brave,” was, uncannily, called Worst of the Year by Entertainment Weekly for a “too shallow [even by Ashley Tinsdale standards] offering without at least a smallish window into her soul.” Finally, La Lopez was made ridiculous by pretending to be an, uh, artist on the covers of most magazines in 2007.

She has received but one mention in a book about the future–mine, titled “2011,” coming out in April. Who is worse? In 2003 alert media watchers noted the tiny words in the right corner of Vanity Fair’s cover that portended the future of that one poor lost soul: “Bonus. No Britney Spears Interview.”