Cast Away the Idea of Paying Dues

When Anna Paquin, then 11, won a best supporting actress Oscar in 1994 for “The Piano,” a writer friend quipped to an actor, “How does it feel to know a 10-year-old is at the top of your profession? I don’t see any kids that age writing movies.”

Certainly, most people would like to think their job requires a degree of special skill--that someone couldn’t stagger in off the street with zero experience and design a building, churn out an entertaining script or, to cite a closer-to-home example, pen an informative column about the television industry.

Yet as actors stood onstage Sunday thanking producers, agents and managers (followed occasionally by spouses and mothers) while cradling Emmys, it was hard not to think about all the people who stumble and bungle their way into on-air professions such as acting and broadcasting with no prior training--including 16 new invaders thrust into the spotlight by CBS’ “Survivor,” some of whom attended the ceremony.

Even the also-rans from “Survivor” have quickly parlayed their participation in the show--not the folks who produced, edited or conceived it, mind you, but the ones forced to eat enormous bug larvae--into parts in prime-time TV shows.

Winner Richard Hatch will tape an appearance this week on CBS’ “Becker,” while fellow island inmates Gervase Peterson, Jenna Lewis and Joel Klug will guest-star on “Nash Bridges.” Four members of the group will climb into “The Hollywood Squares.” Lewis will play a resistance fighter who survives (get it?) a plane crash in an episode of the new UPN series “Freedom,” while Peterson turned up on that network’s “The Hughleys” on Monday.

Sonja Christopher, the first ousted contestant, is slated for a guest role on “Diagnosis Murder,” and Susan Hawk will appear on the new series “DAG.” Dr. Sean Kenniff became the medical correspondent for “Extra.”

This trend hardly begins and ends with the “Survivor” gang. Darva Conger, who said, “I just want to go back to my real life” in her first interview after answering the question “Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?” in Fox’s much-lampooned special, has since posed for Playboy and regularly pops up (if not out) at various celebrity functions.

Monica Lewinsky became a commercial spokeswoman and proved on “Saturday Night Live” that it’s possible to play oneself poorly. Various O.J. Simpson trial figures, including Paula Barbieri and Brian “Kato” Kaelin, landed acting gigs, and the latter hosted a radio talk show.

Athletes leave the field, shower and seemingly walk straight into movie roles and the broadcast booth, from Brian Bosworth to Dennis Rodman. So do coaches, at least on the latter front, bringing a level of insider knowledge to the color commentary often balanced against an inability to articulate ideas--until 98-pound weaklings in broadcasting school must want to jump off a ledge.

Seeing these announcements drip out, how must actors feel? So much for honing one’s craft and enduring auditions. The producers and executives who hire them don’t put much stock in what they do, clearly, if they’ll blithely turn Shaquille O’Neal--ever seen one of his postgame interviews?--into a movie star.

The role for Christopher, 62, is especially vexing in light of the many actresses disenfranchised by having the audacity to be born before the Johnson administration. Given all the 50- and 60-year-old actresses out there hungry for work and completely ignored, is this really the best the casting department could do?

Two tides are at work here, both of them pretty pathetic. One involves the shockingly low price of admission to the once-select ranks of celebrity--the ultimate commentary on a society more impressed with fame than talent, with notoriety than merit.

The other stream, related to the first, stems from creative bankruptcy and fear--leading to the belief programmers must find a promotional hook or gimmick to corral the attention of viewers and combat the flood of choices available to them.

Put on quality shows with talented actors and hope the word gets out? Why struggle with that challenge when you can grab whatever’s burning brightest at that particular moment and try to light a fire before the spark flickers out?

And rest assured, in most instances that ember doesn’t glow for long, which means the “Survivor” bunch--barring any true discernible talent, rare in these cases--will be discarded as soon as it’s clear the public has moved on to something else. As proof, think of those would-be luminaries mentioned above, or the early $1-million winners on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” who, at last count, haven’t graced any People magazine covers lately.

Hollywood doesn’t promise longevity, but it is willing to dole out opportunities to those who, by happenstance, become public figures--an insult, really, both to those who have toiled long hours and dedicated years to the profession of acting as well as viewers, since the assumption seems to be we’re sitting around thinking, “Gosh, I can’t wait to see Jenna and Gervase again!”

In such an environment, the Screen Actors Guild--already waging a painful strike against advertisers over commercials--has reason to approach similar negotiations regarding movies and television next year with trepidation. Not only are the folks appearing in these so-called reality TV shows stealing time slots once allocated to series that employed you, but they’re auditioning for your jobs, too. (Some, such as “Big Brother” beauty queen Jamie Kern, have been fairly brazen about this objective, though an unfortunate voice should forestall any speaking parts in her case beyond perhaps a live-action version of “Smurfs.”)

Admittedly, it’s hard to imagine Monica, Darva or Jenna supplanting Emmy winners Sela Ward and Patricia Heaton at any future ceremonies, but the mere fact they can suddenly claim membership in the same club is further proof of how tenuous the grasp on such hardware can be in a culture where name recognition trumps know-how.

If nothing else, the casting of these instant actors provides a bit more heartburn for performers and additional fodder for smart-alecky types who wonder how tough acting can be if a child can reach the profession’s apex. Then again, once “Survivor XIV: The ‘Lord of the Flies’ Edition” inevitably comes to pass, with kids as the castaways, even 10-year-old SAG cardholders may find themselves out of luck.

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Brian Lowry’s column appears on Tuesdays. He can be reached by e-mail at brian.lowry@latimes.com.