Who was it that said, "The best part of a movie is the trailer,"? Given that the enjoyment we seem to derive from hype far exceeds the pleasure we receive from actually viewing the chunked-and-formed movie product ejected on a regular basis from Hollywood, our cynical cinema-wag might have been on to something. Of course, declaring that trailers are the best parts of movies implies another question: what are the worst parts then? Anybody who regularly watches E!, Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, or EntertainmentStudios.com knows the answer to this question. Allow me to be explicit: The entertainment interview is unnecessary, irritating, redundant, redundant, and boring. And redundant.

Probably the most useless interview is the inevitable, "Press Junket Interview." A movie studio flies a bunch of entertainment reporters somewhere, rents a hotel room, hangs up some posters, plops the stars into uncomfortable chairs, and then cycles the journalists in and out for the next 12 hours. The results of these events get turned into one minute (or less) clips, played on every entertainment news program that had the money to dispatch a quote whore and camera crew. Thus, films are promoted.

The problem with the junket interview process is not the dangerous collusion between movie studios and the supposedly critical media; the real issue is how boring and painful these interviews are to watch. The fact is that the best part of these things is not watching a celebrity answer the questions—it's watching the celebrity pretend that he or she hasn't already answered that question about 200 times in the past ten hours. Even if the reporter wants to ask more substantive questions, they're not allowed to, not if they ever want to be invited back for another junket. Instead, we get to find out such surprising information as, "The cast was fun to work with," or, "I think people will really like this movie."

It's not just the journalists who have to work within studio imposed limits, since most actors are contractually obligated to promote the movies that they're in. Slamming the turkey you just wrapped could, in some cases, not be considered "promotion," and you might find yourself in a tight spot if you don't spout enough positive crap into the cameras pointed at you.

Even when, occasionally, a celebrity is interviewed in a more in-depth fashion, we rarely learn much new information. This is primarily because today's modern star is usually protected by a thick wall of agents, managers, lawyers, and personal assistants, leading to media pieces featuring walks around professionally decorated homes, forgiving lighting, and soft-ball questions.

Part of the larger problem with celebrity interviews is that we don't really seem to be quite sure what we, the viewing public, want out of them. Do we really want to hear the most intimate details of the lives of famous people? Well, yes we do, frankly. But any celebrity that were to come along and air out his or her own dirty laundry would be asking for trouble. Familiarity doesn't just breed contempt, it can lead to a sagging box office, or falling record sales.

The major counter example to all of these bad celebrity interviews seems to be "Inside the Actors Studio", that much maligned bastion of safety and security for fragile egos and dubious acting resumes. James Lipton gets a lot from his interviewees by putting a lot into them; the throng of hero-worshipping sycophants that fill the audience, the exhaustive effort made to appear to have done a great deal of research, the uncritical assessment of past work, and the heaps of time spent with a single celebrity at the center of this media security blanket, all lead to the kind of atmosphere that gets people's guard down. (I wouldn't be surprised if the air in that auditorium is as warm as bath water.) It's such a safe place that even people who don't act want to go there (see Jay Leno and Elton John for examples).

Even this most successful interviewing technique can be difficult to watch. I've seen actors that I like on there, but have never successfully watched the full program. That much unquestioning veneration is a little hard on the sensibilities. Save that for church.

So, maybe it's time to reconsider the entertainment interview. Do we really need it? Certainly, there are plenty of other ways to promote films. The actors surely don't want to do them. Junket whores can burn in hell for their sins after they've starved to death from lack of work—so that won't be a problem. Who's left?

Ah yes, the late night talk show. Home of dull monologues, laconic sketches, and hit-or-miss musical performances. Though they anchor themselves with interviews with celebrities on the make, surely there's some value in the other aspects of these otherwise insomnia-curing programs. Some of them would naturally be canceled as the weaknesses of the writing and hosting came to light, but those failed shows were there only because they provided a forum for people with something to sell anyway.

Ask yourself: do we really need all these damn late-night talk shows? And while you're at it, ask yourself this: does "The Tonight Show" really need to be an hour long?

-B.C. Silvia
-5/2006