Showing ugly truths of addiction and fame
HERE’S how “Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew,” which premiered on Thursday and will run on VH1 for eight weeks, ends: It didn’t work.
At least, for some.
In the five months from when the show was filmed and now, a few participants have very publicly fallen off the wagon. TMZ has aired video of two of them -- porn star Mary Carey and former professional wrestler Chyna -- in what appear to be states of intoxication.
TMZ also gleefully followed the plight of former “American Idol” finalist Jessica Sierra, who was arrested on drug charges last month.
Dr. Drew testified on Sierra’s behalf last week, and in a video on TMZ he can be seen advocating for a return to treatment. “Without that treatment, and with further incarceration, it really could be a very serious problem for her,” he told the judge. “I think her survival’s in question.”
The judge, a man who appeared uncomfortable with having to strain his credulity, replied: “I don’t want anybody glamorizing the fact that she’s a drug addict. I’m over that. I don’t want her treated any different than anybody else.”
As if -- famous is as famous does. The Sierra incident is unfortunate and well-timed publicity for “Celebrity Rehab,” which focuses not on results (that’s for the tabloids) but on process. Nine celebs signed up for the experience, which was filmed over a 21-day period of inpatient treatment at the Pasadena Recovery Center.
Dr. Drew Pinsky, long the wry, reasonable half of the syndicated “Loveline” duo, succeeds here for the same reason he can be difficult on his radio program: He’s skilled at masking his arched eyebrows. It might be easy to mock these C- and D-listers, but Dr. Drew never gives in to the urge. The dispassion of his clinical diagnoses is strangely comforting, and at odds with the flamboyance of his patients.
No one will be coddled on “Celebrity Rehab,” regardless of how diligent they are in their commitment to recovery (and despite the fact that the premiere opened, inevitably, with the hook from Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab”: “They tried to make me go to rehab/ I said ‘No, no, no.’ ”). Some, like Daniel Baldwin and Brigitte Nielsen, are appealingly articulate about their problems. Others, like Carey and Chyna, are more blithe. Singer Seth “Shifty” Binzer is verbally committed to getting clean, but the specter of relapse seems to be forever hanging just above him.
Mentoring role
IT’S Baldwin, oozing his family’s signature charisma, who cuts the most intriguing figure. He’s been in rehab nine times and speaks the language fluently, happily playing mentor to several other patients. He says he’s been sober for months before coming on the program and is using the experience to bolster his sobriety. He also says to Dr. Drew he’d been told that cocaine could be stored in fat cells for years before being released into the body -- Baldwin seemed pleased with the info, while Dr. Drew wondered if something more troubling was behind the statement.
And then there is Jeff Conaway, quite literally handicapped by pain and addiction. For most of his screen time, he is doubled over in a wheelchair, or being helped in and out of the bathroom, or having ointment applied to his backside by an attendant. That he was once the ramrod-straight Kenickie in “Grease” is almost unthinkable.
At the end of last week’s episode, Conaway was hospitalized during a particularly difficult detox. His moans and screams are truly unbearable, the sounds someone makes when pain has become so regular it has all but pulverized consideration for others.
The oldest participant on the show, he also appears to be one whose health is the most compromised. He is the in-house cautionary tale, and when he is wheeled off in a stretcher, it’s instructive to see the flashes of recognition and fear on the faces of the other cast members.
Conaway’s struggles aside, up to this point, “Celebrity Rehab” hasn’t been as consistently gruesome and taxing as A&E;’s “Intervention.” Much of the show focuses on group and one-on-one sessions that are less about physical health than emotional. This is where the celebrity portion of the show begins to melt away -- Sierra’s mother died from a drug overdose; Carey’s mother attempted suicide. Like many, these people are the products of complicated situations. And presumably, if they could afford expensive treatment of this sort, they wouldn’t agree to have it filmed. That they, at least for a time, rose to fame and wealth means little. In the end: Celebrities, they’re just like us.
That “Rehab” demystifies celebrity for viewers is no innovation -- VH1 has been doing that successfully for a couple of years now. But it’s unclear whether the “Rehab” experience will demystify celebrity for the celebrities. Fame has yet to truly be the subject of “Celebrity Rehab” -- it is a far less relatable disease than addiction, and sadly, in the age of tabloidism and celebreality, there is no cure.