Image and Word

If watching this season of America’s Next Top Model has taught me anything, it’s that Tyra Banks’ commitment to effecting positive change in the world is growing as steadily as her resemblance to a drag queen. Sadly, however, she is far more convincing as a cross-dressing diva than she is as an earnest do-gooder.

It all started off innocently enough, with the inclusion of one or two “plus-sized” girls among the aspiring models over the last few seasons. When one group of finalist models travelled to Thailand shortly after the tsunmai of 2004, there was a poignant moment when Tyra urged them all to meditate for a moment on the enormity of that tragedy.

This season, however, she takes it to new levels. Early on, the 13 finalists were introduced to the vehicle in which they will be chauffered throughout the season, a “green” people-mover bus not entirely dissimilar to the one in which I went to my senior prom. The modelettes’ first photo shoot was for a public service “campaign” on the subject of how smoking is, you know, like, bad for you and stuff; as an added bonus, during panel Tyra announced that smoking by contestants would be banned this season. Add to this the requisite woman’s department model and a contestant with Asperger’s for a fully rounded portfolio of social conscience. I would be only mildly surprised if next week’s challenge involves putting together the perfect look for dishing out reheated canned goods at the soup kitchen: “You want to look fierce, but not too light-hearted.”

This season’s bent towards the socially responsible would be more admirable, if the show didn’t so desperately want to have it both ways.

It wants to embrace a positive body image for women of all shapes, yet it wants to punish those who carry around a bit of a gut. It wants to project an image of environmental-friendliness, yet it wants to carpet the inside of the green vehicle with fake grass–a more telling symbol pop culture may never have offered. It wants to tell us how brave Asperger’s sufferer Heather is for competing on national TV, yet it certainly doesn’t want to bother to learn how to pronounce the name of the disorder. It tries to claim that the model-making process is empowering for the girls on the show, yet doesn’t hesitate to do a photo shoot depicting the aspirants as murder victims, taken down by their own jealous rivals.

Without this pretense of activism, America’s Next Top Model could certainly have been called anti-feminist or degrading. This new shallow veneer of moral impetus, however, is even worse than none at all. It says that doing the right thing is neither more serious, more arduous, or more lasting than striking a pose for the camera.