Daily Buzzkills: Celebrity Ghost Stories: Stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back. Then it goes, "Aren't you Scott Baio?"
Death! Like “Run This Town” and “I’m-a let you finish” jokes, he’s all around us right now, rifling through our old celebrity Rolodex and mercilessly culling those who didn’t make the cut into his new phone. And where Death goes, age-old contemplations follow—of what happens to us when we die, whether we go to a place of eternal peace and/or torment, and if so, whether they serve beer there and we get to see all our brahs again. But what if there’s another, more earthbound and exploitable brand of afterlife? What if instead of being free to serve out eternity attending never-ending choir practice and watching our descendents masturbate—or having our skin slowly flayed and roasted, as we’re forced to relive all the times we skipped choir practice to masturbate—we are instead condemned to wander the earth looking for a final rest that never comes? Even more disturbing, what if it also involves having to talk to Scott Baio?
That’s the premise set forth by the “BIO Channel” (formerly Biography, which sounds musty and boring and so 20th-century, like it would possibly involve reading things) and its Celebrity Ghost Stories, which is being touted as a new show—which just proves that they’re bald-faced fucking liars, as my far more graceful and attractive colleague Amelie Gillette already gave it a proper lashing last year. But apparently the unfinished business of earthbound spirits involves more than just engaging in a little erotic asphyxiation play with Belinda Carlisle, or giving Sammy Hagar and Ernie Hudson some much-needed closure on their awkward relationships with their parents, because suddenly we’re looking at nine more hours of reducing the mysteries of life to self-absorbed anecdotes. Yes, until recently, the quandary of life after death has been broached solely by clergy, philosophers, and rednecks armed with night-vision cameras, but now we’re going boldly into the fray with America’s favorite source of opinions no one asked for:
In each episode of “Celebrity Ghost Stories,” viewers will see several first-person celebrity narratives by respected actors, musical artists, and athletes. Cinematic recreations bring to life the personal accounts of stars who believe they have experienced the other side – and their narrations quite often reveal a side to the celebrity that has never been made public.
Indeed, such as the side whose thirst for validation is so witheringly intense, it will go to any length to slake it—even willingly allowing themselves to be portrayed by vaguely insulting look-alikes in recreations that combine the best in Unsolved Mysteries-style “wordlessly arguing with lots of pointing” dramatics with flashy jump-cuts inserted by a guy just waiting to get the call for the next Saw movie. But you know, maybe we’re being too prematurely cynical here (which would be very unlike us). After all, just because the premise seems tailor-made for inviting in the sort of attention-whoring people who would pretend to have an opinion on The Top 50 Least Effective Labor-Saving Agricultural Devices And Sharecropper Bloopers if it meant a little more camera time doesn’t necessarily mean that only C-listers desperate for exposure would suddenly have a life-changing ghost story to share, right?
Celebrities in season one include: Scott Baio, Carnie Wilson, Eric Roberts, Elisabeth Rohm, C. Thomas Howell, Carrie Fisher, John Waters, Rue McClanahan, Federico Castelluccio, Lisa Rinna, Jeffrey Ross, Vincent Curatola, Illeana Douglas, Tom Arnold, Nia Long, Dee Snider, Gina Gershon, Justine Bateman, Jay Thomas, Traci Lords, James Kyson Lee, Barry Williams, Debi Mazar, Greg Grunberg, Sammy Hagar, Morgan Fairchild, John Salley, Lili Taylor, Anson Williams, Kelly Carlson, Ali Landry and Ernie Hudson.
Oh, Lili Taylor, Illeana Douglas, and Debi Mazar… Someone obviously needs to call Alan Ball and have him create an HBO dramedy for you, perhaps starring as three divorced former high school friends who reunite in your religiously strict Southern hometown and, I don’t know, start your own midwifing business or something. In the meantime, you’re rubbing elbows with an awful lot of former alcoholics and addicts there who would probably claim that aliens convinced them to star in Soul Man if it meant creating sympathy for their stalled careers. But hey, when it comes to ghostly encounters, it doesn’t matter if you’re a big star, a former star, or a person who was maybe sort of a star once but has actually become more famous for the way he’s turned mocking his own non-star-ness into a weird, quasi-celebrity of its own. (Or, for brevity’s sake, “Barry Williams.”) After all, what matters here is the everyday human side—the “deeply personal,” “deeply emotional and revealing” lessons to be learned. And what are those again?