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This is the body of Leo, this is the Diet Coke of Leo
BY CHRIS WRIGHT
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There’s going to be an awful lot of sore necks in Boston this morning. The reason for this, it probably goes without saying, was the DNC. As NAACP president Kweisi Mfume took the stage last night, the masses swivelled and craned. Fingers were pointed. Cameras clicked. Not that Mfume had anything to do with it. "Look!" people yelped, looking directly at me. "It’s him!" As it turns out, I wasn’t the cause of the pandemonium at all. It was John Cusack, the movie star, who sat watching the procedings from an open balcony three rows behind me. Swivel. Crane. Point. Click-flash. Click-flash. This was my overwhelming impression of the last night of the DNC. Not the speeches. Not the dawning of a new day in America. Cusack wasn’t the end of it. After a while, Ben Affleck showed up, then Leonardo DiCaprio, Hillary Clinton, Rob Reiner, P. Diddy. Understandably, with such an array of celebrities it was difficult to get too worked up over the plight of the homeless, reproductive rights, the war on terror, and the other important issues being discussed on the FleetCenter stage. The thing is, there were so many tantalizing permutations — Affleck and Diddy sharing a private joke, Cusack and Clinton shooting the breeze, DiCaprio and Reiner, Cusack and Affleck. It was dizzying, and people looked on with the kinds of expressions that usually greet firework finales — "Wow!" and "Oooh!" Many, many pictures were taken. Even when the speakers started to get interesting — when Joseph Biden and Wesley Clark and Joe Lieberman and Madeleine Albright took the stage — our own reactions seemed less pertinent than the reactions of those in the Star Pen. While swelling with patriotism during Wesley Clark’s emotional tribute to the troops, we turned to see if Diddy was doing likewise. And when Kerry came on, the swiveling continued, particularly when the presidential nominee paid tribute to his wife, Teresa. We wanted to see, in the midst of the "Teresa!" chants, what Hillary would be doing. Clapping, it turns out. Just an ordinary woman in an extravagantly expensive peach-colored suit watching what was going on. Wow. But then this is what the DNC’s been about all week — getting up close and personal (relatively speaking) with people we’ve seen on television. Because, let’s not forget, we could have just as easily watched the thing on TV — same messages, same people. What made the affair so captivating was the element of flesh, the physical presence of not only the Kerrys and the Clintons but the Jerry Springers and the Sarah Jessica Parkers. Why? What is it that makes seeing celebrities in person so much more thrilling than seeing them on the screen? But maybe this isn’t the right question. It’s because we see them on TV that we swivel and crane. Fame, from our side of the screen, seems somehow less than real, or at least not quite earthly. Seeing celebrities in the flesh is a way of finding a connection between the metaphysical and the physical — like the Eucharist. Transubstantiation. The spirit of Leo made corporeal. As the DNC wound down, John Cusack stood and watched the bombardment of balloons and the blizzard of red, white, and blue confetti, and we felt our own enjoyment had somehow been heightened by this fact. At least for a while. As people streamed out of the arena, many of them barely gave Cusack a second glance. It seems strange to say so, but we in Boston might be in the early stages of taking celebrity for granted. Soon, though, things will return to normal. The media tent will be dismantled, the barriers will be taken down, as will the bunting. The celebrities will go home. Come next week, we’ll probably be back to getting all fluttery when we spot the weather guy from Channel Five. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m kind of looking forward to it.
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