Monuments to Your Ego

Watching Top Chef, Heather Havrilesky pens a valentine to arrogance on television:

Which brings us back to some of the possible reasons why arrogance lights up the small screen like nothing else. Whether or not they feel comfortable with the spotlight, whether or not they approve of broadcasting themselves for a nation's idle amusement, the arrogant sooner or later come to adore the camera's gaze in spite of themselves....His arrogance lies to him, telling him that even when he falls apart and stomps his feet like a bratty little tool, the camera loves him and embraces his every move. And let's face it, the guy is pretty hot. He has angry bedroom eyes. He's cocky. He cooks a mean pressed chicken with calamari noodles, tomato confit and fennel salad. If this guy isn't neck-deep in fine women around the clock, there is no God.
 I think Heather is right that arrogance produces drama on reality television.  I'm not sure she's correct that arrogance produces quality drama (And that's not even getting into the creepiness of her insisting that angry, arrogant guys should be rolling deep in compliant women.  The idea that anger and passion are the same has caused a lot of women a lot of trouble.).  Arrogance is interesting either when its manifestly earned, or when it is manifestly unjustified.  And while it's certainly a personal preference, I'm more curious about those dramas when they occur in naturalistic settings, rather than in artificial ones brought out by competition.

But the real reason Heather's column seems a bit odd to me is that so much of this fall's best new programming relies on humility and modest, but extremely well-written drama, rather than volcanic ego.  Community works because the show brings its main-character-lawyer-with-a-fake-bachelors'-degree low and forces him to work within the new constraints he's brought upon himself (an episode in which he conducts a poolside defense of a cheater with the judges at a diving table is priceless).  Modern Family's characters have lovely, carefully drawn eccentricities, but their mistakes, their cruelties, their senses of themselves are all on a modest scale (the show manages to make a scene in which people jump and are pushed into a pool fully clothed, one of the oldest cliches in the book, feel fresh).  Glee's characters want nothing more than to get out of their Lima, Ohio hometown, a small-scale ambition if there ever was one.  Diva Rachel may dream of stardom, but her peers mostly want college scholarships, and not to have their lives dominated by teenage pregnancy.  I know Heather knows this, of course--she and I love a bunch of the same shows.  But I think this tendency towards modesty, and towards Anywhere, USA shows is part of what's made this fall's television season so good.  It's an odd time to celebrate ego.