Will Oprah Winfrey be back after the break? - After 25 years of sobbing politicians and cod psychology, the chat show queen faces a daunting new challenge
As The Oprah Winfrey Show creaks towards its final airing, the world has divided into those who don't want the chat show queen to leave, those who can't wait to get shot of her and those who haven't realised what Oprah is up to.
With a quarter-century of five-slots-a-week presenting under her belt, and a $2.5 billion fortune to show for it, the 54-year-old could have retired to her grand northern California estate, there to luxuriate on the sunny terrace of her faux Georgian mansion, thinking of how far she'd travelled from a poor upbringing in rural Mississippi.
Such a scenario appears not to have entered Oprah's thinking. Far from marking the end of her epic career, the wrapping up of the chat show signals the start of the even bigger adventure she's been thirsting after for years. The aim now is to become the world's first one-woman television network, and beyond that, the centre of a global lifestyle franchise. And although she has the pedigree, the star power and the financial backing, the odds appear heavily stacked against her succeeding.
Every day last week, thousands of viewers left heartfelt messages on Oprah's website, already one of the world's most visited. "I never could afford a psychologist or therapy," wrote one fan, "and you have been that for me! I am so going to miss our daily sessions." Another pleaded: "How can we repay you for all you have done for us, mentally, physically and emotionally? What you have done for us is priceless. We don't want you to go, but we must cut the umbilical cord and let you soar into your next destiny. We pray for your peace and serenity as you venture into this new phase of your life."
Yet behind these fond sentiments lie some harsh realities. Oprah's ratings have been sliding for years, and while no show can expect to maintain its popularity indefinitely, there swirls around it a sense of outdatedness, even obsolescence. The once-heady mix of emotional voyeurism, cod psychology and mother-lode mentoring which played so well in the Eighties has proved less suited to today's climate of recession, insecurity and war-weariness.
From 12.5 million American viewers in the early Nineties, Oprah's numbers have fallen to 5.5 million, and the problems don't stop there. Large numbers of Americans who grew up thinking of her as a quasi-spiritual presence in their lives feel that she has lost if not her touch exactly, then certainly her sense of mission. They felt betrayed by her tub-thumping for Barack Obama in the 2008 election, which took her into the realms of party politics and racial cause-mongering that she had always avoided.
As The Oprah Winfrey Show creaks towards its final airing, the world has divided into those who don't want the chat show queen to leave, those who can't wait to get shot of her and those who haven't realised what Oprah is up to.
With a quarter-century of five-slots-a-week presenting under her belt, and a $2.5 billion fortune to show for it, the 54-year-old could have retired to her grand northern California estate, there to luxuriate on the sunny terrace of her faux Georgian mansion, thinking of how far she'd travelled from a poor upbringing in rural Mississippi.
Such a scenario appears not to have entered Oprah's thinking. Far from marking the end of her epic career, the wrapping up of the chat show signals the start of the even bigger adventure she's been thirsting after for years. The aim now is to become the world's first one-woman television network, and beyond that, the centre of a global lifestyle franchise. And although she has the pedigree, the star power and the financial backing, the odds appear heavily stacked against her succeeding.
Every day last week, thousands of viewers left heartfelt messages on Oprah's website, already one of the world's most visited. "I never could afford a psychologist or therapy," wrote one fan, "and you have been that for me! I am so going to miss our daily sessions." Another pleaded: "How can we repay you for all you have done for us, mentally, physically and emotionally? What you have done for us is priceless. We don't want you to go, but we must cut the umbilical cord and let you soar into your next destiny. We pray for your peace and serenity as you venture into this new phase of your life."
Yet behind these fond sentiments lie some harsh realities. Oprah's ratings have been sliding for years, and while no show can expect to maintain its popularity indefinitely, there swirls around it a sense of outdatedness, even obsolescence. The once-heady mix of emotional voyeurism, cod psychology and mother-lode mentoring which played so well in the Eighties has proved less suited to today's climate of recession, insecurity and war-weariness.
From 12.5 million American viewers in the early Nineties, Oprah's numbers have fallen to 5.5 million, and the problems don't stop there. Large numbers of Americans who grew up thinking of her as a quasi-spiritual presence in their lives feel that she has lost if not her touch exactly, then certainly her sense of mission. They felt betrayed by her tub-thumping for Barack Obama in the 2008 election, which took her into the realms of party politics and racial cause-mongering that she had always avoided.
Equally importantly, what the Wall Street Journal once damned as the "Oprahisation" of America is now seen as a liability. The yuck-making eagerness of politicians to weep on camera, of juries to acquit defendants on the basis of
sob-stories about childhood traumas, of entire sections of society to blame their problems on the beastliness of other sections, are all held to be a consequence of Oprah's reign over the airwaves.
Beyond all this, there have been some enormous achievements. The cultural critic Eva Illouz, in a book-length essay called The Glamour of Misery, described Oprah as "one of the most important cultural phenomena of the 20th century", crediting her show with the creation a new social-political litmus test: "If something doesn't play on Oprah, it doesn't play at all."
Yet the big question of how a girl who grew up on a Deep South dirt road, wearing potato sacks to school, rose to become the most famous woman in the global media remains essentially unanswered. Even Oprah doesn't know. "Nobody had ever seen anybody like me," she mused last week. "They just couldn't figure it out. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't slim. I couldn't sing. I had no qualities that anyone could understand."
Winfrey was born to unmarried teenage parents in Kosciusko, Mississippi, and given the biblical name "Orpha", which later became corrupted to "Oprah". In the absence of a proper family home, she was shuttled around between relatives, and claims that she was sexually abused from the age of nine. From these unpromising beginnings emerged a remarkable ability to talk effectively: after winning her a high school oratory prize, it landed her a place at Tennessee State University to study communications.
Her hope at the time was to become an actress. But, desperate for money, she took a part-time job as a local television announcer, and was talent-spotted by a Chicago station to front its struggling morning show. Three years later, in 1986, The Oprah Winfrey Show was launched. She has never married or had children, and while she has a longstanding partner in author and businessman Stedman Graham, it has frequently been suggested that a deeper relationship exists with her best friend and collaborator, Gayle King.
Now comes the big gamble. Earlier this year, in anticipation of her signature show's disappearance, Oprah launched her own television channel, the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN), fashioned entirely around her celebrity and heavy on the kind of window-on-the-soul, confessional, self-help programming she excels at.
The results to date have not been encouraging. Earlier this month, the network's boss, Christina Norman, was sacked amid reports of dismal ratings and heavy losses – the second senior executive to depart since the launch. With Oprah contractually unable to host a talk show until next year, OWN has been filling its schedules with soap reruns, fashion and beauty makeover programmes and reality fare that viewers appear to find little different from everything else on the box. "If you put the name Oprah on a channel, you expect to see Oprah," complains industry analyst David Scardino.
For now, Oprah has her show to see out. Television is unlikely to have witnessed an event like the one lined up to be broadcast on Wednesday from a Chicago stadium, after a week-long riot of visiting Hankses, Cruises and Madonnas. The identity of the final guest is currently television's best-kept secret – although given the magnitude of the occasion, it's hard to see how Oprah can finish with anyone other than herself. ( telegraph.co.uk )
sob-stories about childhood traumas, of entire sections of society to blame their problems on the beastliness of other sections, are all held to be a consequence of Oprah's reign over the airwaves.
Beyond all this, there have been some enormous achievements. The cultural critic Eva Illouz, in a book-length essay called The Glamour of Misery, described Oprah as "one of the most important cultural phenomena of the 20th century", crediting her show with the creation a new social-political litmus test: "If something doesn't play on Oprah, it doesn't play at all."
Yet the big question of how a girl who grew up on a Deep South dirt road, wearing potato sacks to school, rose to become the most famous woman in the global media remains essentially unanswered. Even Oprah doesn't know. "Nobody had ever seen anybody like me," she mused last week. "They just couldn't figure it out. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't slim. I couldn't sing. I had no qualities that anyone could understand."
Winfrey was born to unmarried teenage parents in Kosciusko, Mississippi, and given the biblical name "Orpha", which later became corrupted to "Oprah". In the absence of a proper family home, she was shuttled around between relatives, and claims that she was sexually abused from the age of nine. From these unpromising beginnings emerged a remarkable ability to talk effectively: after winning her a high school oratory prize, it landed her a place at Tennessee State University to study communications.
Her hope at the time was to become an actress. But, desperate for money, she took a part-time job as a local television announcer, and was talent-spotted by a Chicago station to front its struggling morning show. Three years later, in 1986, The Oprah Winfrey Show was launched. She has never married or had children, and while she has a longstanding partner in author and businessman Stedman Graham, it has frequently been suggested that a deeper relationship exists with her best friend and collaborator, Gayle King.
Now comes the big gamble. Earlier this year, in anticipation of her signature show's disappearance, Oprah launched her own television channel, the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN), fashioned entirely around her celebrity and heavy on the kind of window-on-the-soul, confessional, self-help programming she excels at.
The results to date have not been encouraging. Earlier this month, the network's boss, Christina Norman, was sacked amid reports of dismal ratings and heavy losses – the second senior executive to depart since the launch. With Oprah contractually unable to host a talk show until next year, OWN has been filling its schedules with soap reruns, fashion and beauty makeover programmes and reality fare that viewers appear to find little different from everything else on the box. "If you put the name Oprah on a channel, you expect to see Oprah," complains industry analyst David Scardino.
For now, Oprah has her show to see out. Television is unlikely to have witnessed an event like the one lined up to be broadcast on Wednesday from a Chicago stadium, after a week-long riot of visiting Hankses, Cruises and Madonnas. The identity of the final guest is currently television's best-kept secret – although given the magnitude of the occasion, it's hard to see how Oprah can finish with anyone other than herself. ( telegraph.co.uk )
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