It finally happened. At last, much to the excitement of the internet, Andrew Garfield went on a Chicken Shop Date with Amelia Dimoldenberg. To those still unfamiliar with the program, let me break it down for you. Celebrities go on a ‘fake’ first date with Dimoldenberg, inviting audiences to hide behind the camera lens and pry on the guests engaging in awkward conversation. What makes this particular episode especially exciting, though, is that it seems that everyone and their aunt has been waiting for this meeting to happen. (We all remember where we were when the line-up was announced). After all, the pair have a history of flirting on the red carpet. I must say, the episode delivered: snappy, fun, and full of tongue-in-cheek banter. Unsurprisingly, the duo’s chemistry has led to an internet-wide chatter, ‘shipping’ the two with each other. One YouTube commenter remarks, “this video is either an absolute masterclass in acting or a public declaration of true love, there's no in-between.” And as the natural progression of online discourse around celebrities seems to go, there has (yet again) been a resurgence in content surrounding Garfield’s decade-old relationship with his The Amazing Spider-Man co-star Emma Stone. As a chronically online twenty-something-year-old myself I am also flooded with these two streams of content. What catches my eye though, is the difference between them. The expressly inviting, intimate setting of the Chicken Shop Date seems to be a sharp departure from the scripted talk show appearances and blurry paparazzi photos of Garfield with Stone. Now, I know celebrity dating scandals aren’t anything new. They are a part of the ever-present mythical lore of the celebrity’s private life, a juicy morsel of information ready to be consumed by their fans. Parasocial relationships with those in the spotlight are ubiquitous. What is new, though, is that they feel less voyeuristic to us as an audience. Off-screen media interactions with celebrities seemingly jump between two extremes: the complete ignorance of the camera or the hyper-awareness of its presence. Think about it. When a Paul Mescal walks around in his short shorts and Sweetgreen bag, the image you see of him is ‘unstaged’ and ‘organic’, but unfazed by you watching him. Instead of you riding the thrill of invading the higher space he occupies, he exists as a greater being who lives in the same world as you: grocery stores, restaurants and the like. He isn’t entitled to being the face of a paparazzi magazine issue. Rather, it's just as easy to scroll past him online as any other piece of democratised content. It is probably by way of this perceived authenticity that you and I are allowed to feel closer to these stars in a way that doesn’t edge on intrusion. We are successfully rid of the burden of voyeurism. While unsavoury, low quality paparazzi snapshots of celebrities continue to exist (read: Margot Robbie’s vacation pictures while pregnant), casual and overtly welcoming set-ups seem to be taking over. There is a growing sea of celebrities posting their own vlogs (Diljit Dosanjh, and Red Velvet’s Seulgi come to mind) directly bringing their fans into their private spaces. More formal styles of content have changed too. The Chicken Shop Date is one amongst many of these fresh interview formats. Take GQ’s Actually Me, for instance: a YouTube series where stars go undercover online and engage with discourses about them on camera. For the course of the interview, they’re just like us: faceless entities that communicate to us personally using publicly readable texts (a bit paradoxical, isn’t it?). This extends to more unscripted spaces as well. How many times have you seen Tom Holland comment under Zendaya’s posts? Time and again it is reaffirmed that our access to the celebrity is direct, authentic and consensual. Taking another example, Recess Therapy is an Instagram account where people interact with preschool kids engaging in light hearted conversation. Over the past year or so, the page (much like other popular ones on social media) has seen a surge in celebrity appearances with the likes of Joe Jonas and Millie Bobby Brown talking to these kids in a way not dissimilar to its original template. They sit with the preschoolers on the grass and not in artificially lit polished studios. They bend down to enter our realm instead of taking us into theirs. And since it is our world, our rules apply, don’t they? The thrill of audience voyeurism seems to have shifted from perverted intrusion to the excitement of shared existence. Under the unacknowledged scrutiny of the camera and the numbed control of the algorithm, we are lent the power to be shameless in our access to the celebrity. My engagement with Garfield is direct (I mean, I saw the date myself). It is intimate (I could feel the tension between them through my screen). And, most importantly it is permissible (why else would I be seeing this?). Needless to say, I hope they end up together! (Just kidding!)
A promotional still from Amelia Dimoldenberg and Andrew Garfield’s Chicken Shop Date
24 Oct 2024
Riti Krishnan
