Comic Relief is now a joke in poor taste that’s fallen flat
The celebrity activist demanded a chair as she didn’t want to get her Chanel dress dirty
It’s painful to look at the desperate eyes, the exhausted bodies, the forced smiles. They know that our donations depend on how moved we are by their stories – but equally how easy it is for us to turn away. Tonight, as Comic Relief once more returns to our screen, how soon will it be before we switch off, unable to bear the sight of any more celebrities gurning for our attention?
I know it shouldn’t, but my heart sinks every time Comic Relief comes on. This year, the big draw is the reunion of the Four Weddings and a
Funeral cast 25 years on, which will no doubt show up the differences between those who’ve had access to expert cosmetic surgeons and those who didn’t. But that’s only a tiny part of the BBC’S marathon fundraising televisual spectacular that will play for five and a half hours, and in the run-up has included Tess Daly and Claudia Winkleman dancing non-stop for 24 hours and nine assorted stars, including Ed Balls and Little Mix, climbing Kilimanjaro. It all makes our own individual charitable efforts – the bake sales, sponsored runs and non-uniform days – feel paltry in comparison.
These days, no Red Nose Day would be complete without a controversy (the cynical observer might say that it does it no harm in raising its profile…). This year, it was Stacey Dooley’s Instagram post of her hugging a Ugandan child, which, as David Lammy MP pointed out, carried with it all the imagery of white saviour complex. The last time the biennial fundraiser was on our screens, in 2017, the row was over Ed Sheeran’s “poverty tourism” film, where he offered to pay hotel costs for street children in Liberia. The clip was later nominated for “most offensive” campaign of the year by an aid watchdog.
Even further back, it was the coverage of the Ethiopian famine in 1984 – which inspired the birth of Comic Relief – that led to a code of conduct being adopted by NGOS to ensure those caught up in disasters should be treated with dignity in the media. To be fair, after the Sheeran debacle, the head of Comic Relief, Liz Warner, said the charity would be dropping celebrity storytellers for sister event Sport Relief, to allow Africans to speak for themselves.
It’s easy to see how celebrities benefit from working with aid agencies – they get to look charitable and boost their credit – even if this, at times, has led to what was dubbed the new “scramble for Africa” as celebrities jockeyed to find the best cause. As Madonna’s publicist reportedly once put it, in total seriousness: “She’s focusing on Malawi – South Africa is Oprah’s territory.”
Behind the celebrity smiles and tears for the camera, dealing with them is often fraught. When hacked emails revealed David Beckham had hoped for a knighthood for his charitable deeds, it took the edge off his altruism. Meanwhile, World Vision might have thought Elizabeth Mcgovern, fragrant Lady Cora from
Downton Abbey, a perfect fit for their humanitarian aid efforts; but when the Telegraph accompanied her on a trip, they found in Mcgovern a star who was unable to tell the difference between Dakar and Darfur, was unaware that World Vision was a faith-based organisation, and suggested that people in Africa “have sex far more freely than we do back home”.
Any aid agency can tell you other tales that never make the headlines from their encounters with stars. The celebrity activist who marched into an Indian slum saying it was imperative she charged her phone straight away.
Or the one in a mud hut who imperiously demanded a chair because she didn’t want her Chanel dress to get dirty, before rejecting a drink of water because it was served in a mug not a glass.
Or the R’N’B star whose major concern in Jamaica was that no one stood on his designer trainers.
Perhaps my favourite tale once told was the up-and-coming actress who treated tsunami survivors to a vivid re-enactment of her most famous role to date – which culminated in her character drowning.
Yet is the effort to bring celebrities in really worth it anyway? A survey carried out by the University of Manchester asked 2,000 members of the public about which charities they had heard of and which celebrity advocates. While 95 per cent of people could recognise five or more of the 12 charities listed, a stunning two thirds could not name a celebrity associated with any of the NGOS.
But the media gives them so much publicity, you might argue. Well, a study by the same group found that the mention of charities in both broadsheets and tabloid articles about celebrities hardly increased at all in the 25 years after Live Aid. While the charities pursue the celebrities – as do the politicians, who like nothing more than to cosy up and invite a Leonardo Dicaprio or a Ben Affleck to address the UN or Congress – the public are, by and large, left unmoved.
So while the celebrity telethon and eight-figure sums that will pop up on our screens tonight will undoubtedly raise awareness and fund good projects, and there are those celebrities who are committed and do much out of the spotlight, let’s not get carried away on celebrity do-goodism. Those bake sales and non-uniform days that build on community feeling and respect for those they will ultimately support is what will stop Comic Relief feeling like a joke that’s fallen flat.