Cory's Reads #10: Panic! At The Podium
As the search for a new Jeopardy! host continues, the fight for our nation's integrity intensifies.
Had to have high, high hopes for a living
Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing
Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision
Always had high, high hopes
Had to have high, high hopes for a living
Didn't know how but I always had a feeling
I was gonna be that one in a million
Always had high, high hopes
Pretty inspiring stuff, right? For the uninitiated, those lyrics are brought to you by emo pop band Panic! At The Disco, whose chart-topping “High Hopes” has continued to cement itself within the American pop culture pantheon since its release in 2018. The song took on particular popularity during the 2020 Democratic Party presidential primaries, with candidates such as Amy Klobuchar, Cory Booker, and Julian Castro all making use of the song’s feel-good lyrics.
Of course, the most notable of the Democratic nominees to employ “High Hopes” in his quest for the presidency was none other than Mayor Pete Buttigieg, whose campaign staff even developed an original dance to the song.
Nevermind your thoughts on “High Hopes” (I hate it), the catchy tune has clearly resonated with Americans over the last few years. With its evocation of the prototypical underdog tale, the song speaks to an experience with which many of us are familiar, or at least imagine ourselves to be.
That last part is important when one considers the song in the context of the Buttigieg campaign. Mayor Pete, who now serves as the Secretary of Transportation within the Biden administration, is the furthest thing from an underdog. Indeed, the Harvard graduate has certainly “always had a vision.” But he has also always had a dime. Several dimes, in fact. With nearly four years of experience at management consulting firm McKinsey & Company, Buttigieg has always represented the polar opposite of an underdog. He has adjusted his political stances on a variety of topics according to what suits him and his current interests best, and he has dropped his own ambitions whenever an even greater opportunity presented itself. Buttigieg has largely failed upward, but none of that seems to matter, so long as he sells himself as the underdog whose “High Hopes” can carry him to the very top. It’s a trajectory many Americans aspire to, even if it is mostly unrealistic. To follow a path like Pete’s requires a great deal of wealth, entitlement, and perhaps even delusion.
And yet, this path is not unique to Pete Buttigieg. The ignorant American for whom power is all but promised remains one of the most popular characters of our time. We all know him (and by and large, it is a “he”): the spoiled brat who can climb his way to the top, unconcerned with the consequences of his actions, simply because he wants it, maybe even deserves it, more than the rest of us. Buttigieg is far from alone in this identity group. In truth, he's likely among its least harmful members.
These guys have been everywhere in the news cycle lately. Former New York governor Andrew Cuomo is one such sleazeball, not to mention his brother Chris. At least the former received his comeuppance, in the form of an impeachment. Looking to save face, Cuomo resigned before the State Assembly could beat him to the punch. Of course, the entire debacle surrounding the former governor centered around a series of sexual harassments, despicable unto themselves. What the controversy obscured, however, was Cuomo’s several other sins as governor of New York. Elevated to superstar status for his strong yet superficial attacks on Donald Trump throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, Cuomo became an American exemplar of leadership and responsibility. And yet, most leaders do not (or at least, should not) downplay nursing home deaths related to the pandemic they are supposedly so great at combating, nor do they employ prison labor in that very same combat.
Andrew’s ascension was aided by Chris and his cozy primetime spot on CNN. The two brothers teased and joked with one another on air night after night throughout 2020, demonstrating a clear disregard for journalistic and political ethics. Calling Chris Cuomo a journalist is likely a bit of a stretch, but he is a trusted voice in America, and trusted voices shouldn’t be advising elected officials on how to navigate accusations of sexual harassment, nor disappearing from the airwaves for weeks just as the pressure caves in around them. Climbers like the Cuomos, however, are unique in that they benefitted from that all-too-American advantage: nepotism. The sons of former New York governor Mario Cuomo, Andrew and Chris could reasonably believe they were destined for greatness, simply because their father could guarantee it.
The prevalence of these privileged Panickers (as I have since anointed them) has pervaded popular culture as well. These are the exact folks writer-director (and former Survivor contestant) Mike White set his sights on with his HBO miniseries The White Lotus. White’s latest project is one of my favorite things I’ve watched in 2021, with its witty blend of humor and cynicism. The show likely merits its own discussion, and I’m dying to draw a line between its tropically tense island setting and its creator’s time on Survivor. Nevertheless, I bring it up here as White’s skewering of the pathetically rich doubles as an incisive look at how we shape our political and social identities. Rich girl Olivia Mossbacher (Sydney Sweeney) is a woke leftist much like the rest of her generation, but she is ultimately confronted with her own privilege and her inability to separate herself from her wealth and her family’s exploitation of others. When push comes to shove, Olivia opts for personal comfort above all else. Her brother Quinn (Fred Hechinger), in making a similar realization about his own life, decides to actually do something about it, dedicating himself to the natural environment.
Perhaps the strongest example of a Panicker in The White Lotus is Shane Patton, who actor Jake Lacy shapes as one of the greatest douchebags ever put to screen. Honeymooning with his wife Rachel (Alexandra Daddario), Shane is fixated on making this trip as romantic as possible for him and Rachel both. Romance, in this case, almost exclusively means staying in the most expensive room at The White Lotus resort. When resort manager Armond (a terrific Murray Bartlett) accidentally double-books the Pineapple Suite, leaving Shane and Rachel with a just-as-nice-yet-slightly-less-expensive suite, Shane obsesses over the Pineapple Suite for the rest of his stay, even hilariously calling upon his mom (Molly Shannon) to help correct the situation. Shane’s quest for the Pineapple Suite comes at the expense of his relationship with Rachel, whom he largely ignores, interrupts, and belittles throughout their honeymoon. Shane openly acknowledges that sex and wealth drive his love (if you can even call it that) for Rachel. When pressed on where sex ranks in his list of priorities, Shane notes “it’s up there” between bites of breakfast buffet eggs. What makes Shane such a monster is not just that he is a bad guy, but that he believes himself to be a good guy, entirely unconcerned with how his actions affect others, so long as he gets what he wants.
Shane is a pretty clear villain, albeit an irresistible one, in The White Lotus. But guys like Shane aren’t always villainized in the same way. In fact, they are often elevated to protagonist status. Like it or not, just about every superhero is an entitled prick, and it certainly doesn’t help that most of them are either “chosen by the gods” or “sent to save humanity” or just plain-old fucking rich. I suppose the hero’s journey somewhat necessitates a self-absorbed asshole, and the proliferation of that basic plot across all forms of pop culture has spawned countless real-world cases. Director David Lowery interrogates this very idea with his recent film The Green Knight, a mesmerizing medieval epic inspired by the Arthurian legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Gawain is quite literally one of the most timeless protagonists to grace the silver screen in years, brought to life by Lowery and actor Dev Patel seven centuries after the debut of the mysterious chivalric romance that bears his name. He is also, despite Patel’s devilish good looks and undeniable charm, a bit of a jerk. Indeed, Gawain’s fixation on dignity and honor feels justified, admirable even, insofar as it resembles the dominant values of its time. But much like Shane’s obsession with money and sex, or Mayor Pete’s obsession with...um...trains(?), it also betrays a degree of selfishness, which ultimately drives Gawain to steamroll anyone who stands in the way of his quest. For all such figures, a journey towards acquisition of their coveted values is not one of self-actualization, but self-aggrandizement. For Gawain and others, power rules the day.
With The Green Knight, Lowery wonders aloud about the kinds of heroes we create for ourselves, and the lengths we are willing to go to modify and manipulate the myths surrounding those heroes. Early on in The Green Knight, Gawain stands for a portrait. He is already a hero: the brave knight-to-be who, in his quest for knighthood, stood toe-to-toe with the Green Knight and accepted the visitor’s year-long challenge. And yet, the attempt to memorialize Gawain doesn’t quite gel with the Gawain we see onscreen. The painter renders Gawain as markedly whiter than Patel’s own complexion would suggest. There’s an obvious parallel here with Jesus Christ, whose race is almost never accurately depicted even today. The Christian parallels run deep in The Green Knight, with Gawain’s quest mirroring that of Jesus towards Jerusalem. I’ll stop short of lumping Jesus in with the rest of the Panic! fan club, but Lowery might not be so kind. His film is concerned with our seeming inability to remember the sins of those we worship, both religiously and culturally.
To his credit, Gawain himself shares in this concern. Whilst imagining life upon escape from The Green Knight’s lethal blow, Gawain sees a world in which he has gotten what he wanted: honor, power, royalty. In such a world, Gawain eventually ascends to the throne and recognizes an altogether different portrait, one that was painted by Lady Hautdesert (Alicia Vikander) and much more closely resembles the Gawain we see. Interestingly, this portrait was painted upside down, through a refracted light. Earlier in the film, when Gawain encounters the Lady, she seduces him, and eventually concludes he “is no knight.” Why would Gawain embrace a portrait painted by someone who thought so poorly of him? Gawain’s vision demonstrates his awareness of his own delusion and greed. For better or worse, he deserves to be seen as he truly is. The whitewashing of his legacy does a disservice to both Gawain and us. Unwilling to spare even a few coins to a poor beggar boy (Barry Keoghan), or to honestly engage with Lord Bertilak (Joel Edgerton) in an exchange of winnings, Gawain is a liar and a coward. He may hope to be remembered differently, and we may be happy to oblige, but that’s how we end up with more Gawains, more Shanes, more Cuomo brothers, and more Mayor Petes.
It is also, as it turns out, how we end up with a guy like Mike Richards, former executive producer of Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune. The very fact that Richards retained such a title for as long as he did is a small miracle, or perhaps just evidence of his kinship with the aforementioned crew. Of course, only a few weeks ago, Richards was in position to claim a much more prominent role in American pop culture, succeeding the late Alex Trebek as host of Jeopardy!, until a history of harassment and discrimination finally caught up with him.
Richards is arguably my favorite case study in climbing the ladder of corruption, simply because he proved so bad at it. A relative no-name amongst even diehard game show fans, Richards first introduced himself to the Jeopardy! audience in November of 2020, paying tribute to Trebek in the wake of the legendary host’s death. It was a lofty responsibility for Richards, not only because Trebek was such an iconic figure, but because the host’s death came mere months into Richards’ tenure as executive producer. By the time Richards took over in early 2020, COVID-19 forced everyone out of the studio, making him a rather unfamiliar face amongst his coworkers. Richards’ behind-the-scenes role with Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune also already entailed a successive spotlight. The 46-year-old was following in the footsteps of the retiring Harry Friedman, who had been preceded by industry legend Merv Griffin. Richards’ inclusion in this club was not without warrant — his resume included stints with The Price Is Right and Let’s Make a Deal on CBS, as well as The Pyramid and Divided on GSN — but his insistence upon leveraging the role into an onscreen position — perhaps the most coveted in the world of game shows — suggests a solid degree of slime oozing beneath his surface.
In February of 2021, Richards once again appeared onscreen, serving as one of several Jeopardy! guest hosts. Richards characterized his time as host as a happy accident, an emergency response to another host’s last-minute cancellation. The Ringer‘s Claire McNeary has since reported that Richards’ guest hosting gig may not have been so incidental, and his subsequent rise to Jeopardy! host only casted further doubt on the matter. No matter what you thought of Richards’ performance behind the podium — informal polling saw him ranked within the top five candidates, trailing fan favorites such as Aaron Rodgers, Mayim Bialik, and Levar Burton — he was undoubtedly the least recognizable name in the bunch.
And yet, Richards almost pulled it off! Tasked with leading the search for the new host of Jeopardy!, Richards settled on...himself! The development led many fans to compare Richards to former U.S. Vice President Dick Cheney, perhaps the patron saint of the Panic! At The Disco fan club.
Richards recorded five episodes of the show in his week spent as host, all of which are expected to air sometime this month. But Richards’ seedy past (and McNeary’s brave reporting deserves another mention here) ultimately caught up with him, and he resigned as host on August 20th, 2021. Under particular inspection were Richards’ previous comments on his podcast, The Randumb Show, in which he disparaged women, Asians, and Jews. Richards even referred to one of his former cohosts — Beth Triffon, who just so happened to be his assistant at the time as well — as a “booth slut” for having worked as a model at the Consumer Electronics Show. Richards was also the subject of a wrongful termination lawsuit in 2010, wherein former The Price Is Right model Brandi Cochran accused him of making offensive comments about her pregnancy in 2008, and subsequently firing her for it. Cochran ultimately won her lawsuit, making her the first model from the show to succeed in holding Richards and his fellow producers liable for their mistreatment of women. Richards faced at least four other lawsuits from former models on the show, some of which also revolved around wrongful termination relating to a pregnancy.
Richards’ baggage certainly doesn’t sound like that of a Jeopardy! host, not after Trebek managed to take the job from television personality to national treasure across his 36 seasons on air (nevermind Trebek’s Canadian heritage). Fortunately, Jeopardy! proved too sacred an institution for Richards and his ilk to penetrate. And I mean that in earnest — Jeopardy! has truly cemented itself as an American institution. How? Why? And what separates it from our political institutions, whose own sleazeballs very rarely face the consequences of their actions? There are certain societal mantles that we have collectively decided have to exist. There will always be a James Bond. There will always be a host of The Tonight Show, a Spider-Man, a Batman. There will also, it seems, always be a Jeopardy! host. It seems these exclusive positions also come with certain expectations, as they should. In most realms, Richards' ascension up the institutional ladder would have gone off without a hitch. I wish we could celebrate Richards’ dismissal from Jeopardy! as a turning point for America, one in which wealth and ambition are no longer enough to guarantee success. But it seems Richards simply chose the wrong path. I don’t doubt that he’d still be plenty successful — baggage and all — in politics, or even the news media. Why do we hold our cultural characters and figures to such a high standard? And why don’t we set the same expectations for our congressmen, our presidents, our judges, our news anchors?
Last month, I wrote about Anthony Fauci and Americans’ need to evangelize figures like him. Americans, for as stubborn and ignorant as we can be, have a surprisingly hard time imagining themselves to be just as smart, if not smarter, than those in power. Figures like Chris Cuomo demand our undying fealty because they have somehow convinced us that we need them, that they are more capable than we are. With such a sycophantic relationship in place, Cuomo’s indiscretions can easily be overlooked. It’s the same reason Tara Reade’s allegations towards Joe Biden were so aggressively swept under the rug. We needed Biden, and we could therefore make any mental contortions necessary to protect him. Andrew Cuomo’s ousting signaled a fortunate interruption to this pattern, but even that saga seems to be the exception that proves the rule.
Whereas political figures manage to sell themselves as smarter than us (and therefore deserving of power), cultural figures operate according to a different set of rules. Our favorite superheroes and late-night hosts don’t need to be better than us; they need to be like us. Even Alex Trebek, who hosted Jeopardy! with a calm demeanor that suggested he truly knew the answer to his each and every trivia question, succeeded not via superiority, but approachability. Richards sorely lacked in the latter, and hit a roadblock as a result.
I don’t know who will succeed Richards as Jeopardy! host (I’m rooting for Aaron Rodgers, although Mayim Bialik seems like the most logical choice) nor do I know if this is the last we’ve heard from Richards (that’s the other thing about these guys...they never seem to go away). But for now, we can all rejoice in his removal from the beloved game show, and hope this saga informs future attempts to dash the “High Hopes” of the power-hungry and the socially inept.