The phrase “They don’t make ’em like that anymore” has always bewildered me. In most cases where this adage is applied, people are still making “them” like “that;” it just depends on where you’re looking. But in the case of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List—the crimson-haired comic’s reality show that bowed in 2010 after six stellar seasons—they absolutely do not make them like that anymore.
My Life on the D-List was and is a rarity in the reality television landscape. It blurred the lines between fact, fiction, and fame by putting Griffin in increasingly ridiculous situations as she tried to claw her way to A-List stardom. The unspoken joke of the show was that Griffin was never really as D-List as she claimed to be, but that she said yes to just about any ridiculous gig or opportunity that landed in her lap, much in the way that a D-lister might.
While these engagements were always wildly funny, Griffin’s willingness to treat every gig with the same level of importance allowed the show to swerve into unexpected poignancy. If Griffin weren’t a self-described media whore, her reality show might be more like what we’re used to seeing today: repetitive, mind-numbing grasps at televised celebrity. Instead, watching it now, it’s an enthralling look at how fame has changed. Notoriety is a fleeting thrill that anyone with a phone can experience. But achieving fame and keeping it takes not just talent and drive, but genuine heart, too. Griffin understood how to take shots at her industry without alienating her peers (at least, most of the time), and rewatching her rile up the rich and glamorous today, amid an era of Hollywood toothlessness, is a guilty-pleasure binge-viewing with none of the guilt.
