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	My Return of the King Review Cinematic Aspect Ratios and You My NaNoWriMo Saga Polls of the past Cobbism Silent Revolution Dismaland The Truth About Katz and Dogs Terebijon-san Link-O-Rama The Last Fairy Story Lowell Mason Contact Me	The Last Fairy Story and the End of Magic: Princess Diana by Brittanie Johnson It was unusually cold in Alamo, California the night Princess Diana died. We had lit the fire and settled in to watch all three Indiana Jones movies in a row. My best friends Ewen, Joanna, and Lindsay were having our favorite girls night: a tribute to Harrison Ford. I had gotten my camera out and I was taking silly pictures of us and Harrison Ford’s rugged image on the screen. Then my mother ran down the hall and said as calmly as she could, “Princess Diana just died.” Immediately “Temple of Doom” turned into CNN as I ran down the hall to get my laptop. I plugged in to the phone line and was instantly searching the web for more information. Ewen grabbed a blank tape from the drawer and began recording. Lindsay was in shock and held on to the couch pillow, silently in mourning. However, Joanna picked up my camera and took pictures of the screen. Images of Diana, the crash, old archived photos saved from the media appearing on TV and the internet. Presently I am reminded of Anna Scott’s comment about photographs in Notting Hill, “Every time anyone writes anything about me, they'll dig up these photos. [News lasts] forever. I'll regret this forever.” I was rather stunned at the time of this reaction: taking pictures of the television broadcast of photos on file for just such an occasion. Little did I know that this hyperreal imagery would some day haunt me again. After all, as an American, I cannot fully appreciate the sorrow of another nation. In the television miniseries “Merlin,” the population’s drifting from “the old ways” was referred to as “the end of Magic.” Diana was our fairy story and indeed, her death was, in a way, the end of magic. From the very beginning she seemed to belong to the world, constantly hounded by the paparazzi, nothing she did sacred. But despite this, it didn’t stop her from her favourite activity: spreading goodwill and happiness to others. Her charitable works and compassion did a great deal for a great many people. Often referred to as “the People’s Princess,” she truly used her royal title for the betterment of humanity. We all felt better because of her, no matter which country we pledge allegiance to. Her life, which was always scrutinized so harshly, became important to so many. Her death, as was her life, was felt by the world. The actual events surrounding that death were the ultimate face off with the media. Instantly the paparazzi that always seems to swarm about her like wasps was blamed. In death, as also in life, tape and photographs played vital roles. The infamous hotel exit scene, and the after crash footage, among others, were highly played and publicized. My roommate, who was living in London, England at the time commented, “I remember that picture so well. That one where they’re leaving the hotel.” It is said that they waited for over an hour at the crash site before taking her to the hospital because it was difficult to move around the cameras and those holding them. They weren’t to know that later they would be blamed for her death. In fact, it wasn’t until two years late that they were totally cleared of all charges. Those details have never been completely revealed. I have read many articles contradicting one another, but all claiming to have written the truth. Some say she was being terribly hounded with cars and a motorcycle driving in very close proximity. And another account says that the driver was drunk. The official stance is thus: the driver had alcohol with excess in his blood, he entered the tunnel at a high speed, the Mercedes that he was unlicensed to drive was hit by a Fiat Uno which has never been found, and neither the Princess nor Dodi Fayed were wearing their seatbelts. Quite a tragic seatbelt commercial it would make. I hear the cynical crash inspector from Fight Club. “See the way the girls retainer is wrapped around the ashtray? Might make a good anti-smoking ad.” But the negative publicity for the paparazzi (not that I’ve seen much that was positive) had already come out. Suddenly the event was not only critical of what was recorded, but also critical of the means in which we were receiving the information. Paparazzi became a household word, and with people eager for a scapegoat, they began to immediately point the finger. Shows usually criticized for their lack of newsworthy information became heroes by being vessels for the public scrutiny. The event itself, if one could really call it that anymore, was just a series of arguments to attack the media. The scenes which compiled what we saw were really our only option for belief. Hardly anyone was actually at the scene, especially when compared with the mass numbers of witnesses and victims to the September 11th occurrence, so there’s not too many people who can claim that they really saw the raw, unedited version of the story. We were all exposed to the same carefully sequenced (most scenes were, after all, approved by Her Majesty’s Department of the State), and altogether short tapes which constituted nothing more than a testment to Diana and Dodi Fayed’s whereabouts. It was the words which made this story compelling. The news would show the same tape of the couple exiting the Ritz, but have voice over dialogue that had nothing to do with the tape. Even now, so long after her death, the media is still in love with the Princess. But the people are quickly forgetting. Ed Bayley, an American, commented to the BBC, “I must admit that I wouldn't have remembered it was the anniversary of her death if the media hadn't reminded me.” Most Britains have not forgotten. When I was in London last July, there were banners, cards, and flowers to her on the gates to the royals’ apartments. She would have been forty years old. Her glitz also seemed to fade for some; a group of Sunday school students in the UK were left in tears when two ministers told the group of twenty that she had lead an “immoral lifestyle,” she had not repented for her sins, and that after her death, she had gone to Hell. Before anyone had a chance to react, the media had gotten in on the ground floor. As Murray said to Jack, I became immediately swept away in the aura, unable to look at the situation objectively. I was now a part of it, perpetuating it, even. We all still are. Because the truth of the matter is this: she was just one person. Helpful as she was, it was only because she was a royal that we cared. Car accidents happen every day, and for anyone else they are not reported as accidents, but traffic delays. I myself have been in a car accident, but when my mother turned on the radio, the announcer only mentioned the three-car collision that stretched over a mile of highway. No sympathy, just the facts. And it’s not that I felt more important, because that’s the point. No one had taped me, no one cared about me. I am the only one who seems to still care about this. If there had been film, it would have been an expose about drunk drivers and their victims who were fortunate to be wearing seatbelts. In their news section, the Internet Movie Database had the following interesting article: "TV News Warps Reality, Says Study A UCLA study of television newscasts airing in Los Angeles has concluded that stations play up stories of violence with strong ‘visual intrigue,’ while rarely dealing with deaths and injuries with weaker visual appeal. For example, during the period of the study, TV newscasts ran stories about only 13 percent of the people who died in falls and 4 percent of those who died from accidental poisonings. However, they reported on 98 percent of the homicides and 100 percent of the deaths from fires. " Most of us didn’t need an article to clue us in to this phenomenon, however. Reading a newspaper versus watching the evening news easily proves this study. Both have their own agendas. The evening news will pick visually exciting stories, and the newspaper will tend to pick stories with the possibility of more words. That’s the great thing about tragedies: there’s a lot to see and say. In recent news, there is to be an art exhibit dedicated to the life of Princess Diana. The exhibition features work by Kumiko Shimizu, and is entitled “Abused.” It chronicles the life of the Princess since her marriage until her death, focusing on Diana trying to shed her fairy tale image. I don’t think that any amount of painting or sculpture could ever do that. The combination of footage around the event and the proper use of language were the greatest influences in the public’s view of this affair. It didn’t matter how little they had, but how much they played it, instilling the same, tried-and-true titles. So long as they could capitalize on her fame, the event could become even more tragic. In the end, we all saw this event just as the media wanted us to see it, through their perfect, hypercommercialized eyes. Diana the Savoir. Diana the Pure. Diana the Abused. Diana, the Princess. See the gates to the royals' apartments decked out for what would have been Diana's 40th birthday; very surreal imagery Leave a Review Back to the Main Page Read Dismaland, the Tragic Kingdom

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The Last Fairy Story and the End of Magic: Princess Diana

by Brittanie Johnson

It was unusually cold in Alamo, California the night Princess Diana died. We had lit the fire and settled in to watch all three Indiana Jones movies in a row. My best friends Ewen, Joanna, and Lindsay were having our favorite girls night: a tribute to Harrison Ford. I had gotten my camera out and I was taking silly pictures of us and Harrison Ford’s rugged image on the screen. Then my mother ran down the hall and said as calmly as she could, “Princess Diana just died.” Immediately “Temple of Doom” turned into CNN as I ran down the hall to get my laptop. I plugged in to the phone line and was instantly searching the web for more information. Ewen grabbed a blank tape from the drawer and began recording. Lindsay was in shock and held on to the couch pillow, silently in mourning.

However, Joanna picked up my camera and took pictures of the screen. Images of Diana, the crash, old archived photos saved from the media appearing on TV and the internet. Presently I am reminded of Anna Scott’s comment about photographs in Notting Hill, “Every time anyone writes anything about me, they'll dig up these photos. [News lasts] forever. I'll regret this forever.” I was rather stunned at the time of this reaction: taking pictures of the television broadcast of photos on file for just such an occasion. Little did I know that this hyperreal imagery would some day haunt me again. After all, as an American, I cannot fully appreciate the sorrow of another nation.

In the television miniseries “Merlin,” the population’s drifting from “the old ways” was referred to as “the end of Magic.” Diana was our fairy story and indeed, her death was, in a way, the end of magic. From the very beginning she seemed to belong to the world, constantly hounded by the paparazzi, nothing she did sacred. But despite this, it didn’t stop her from her favourite activity: spreading goodwill and happiness to others. Her charitable works and compassion did a great deal for a great many people. Often referred to as “the People’s Princess,” she truly used her royal title for the betterment of humanity. We all felt better because of her, no matter which country we pledge allegiance to. Her life, which was always scrutinized so harshly, became important to so many. Her death, as was her life, was felt by the world.

The actual events surrounding that death were the ultimate face off with the media. Instantly the paparazzi that always seems to swarm about her like wasps was blamed. In death, as also in life, tape and photographs played vital roles. The infamous hotel exit scene, and the after crash footage, among others, were highly played and publicized. My roommate, who was living in London, England at the time commented, “I remember that picture so well. That one where they’re leaving the hotel.” It is said that they waited for over an hour at the crash site before taking her to the hospital because it was difficult to move around the cameras and those holding them. They weren’t to know that later they would be blamed for her death. In fact, it wasn’t until two years late that they were totally cleared of all charges.

Those details have never been completely revealed. I have read many articles contradicting one another, but all claiming to have written the truth. Some say she was being terribly hounded with cars and a motorcycle driving in very close proximity. And another account says that the driver was drunk. The official stance is thus: the driver had alcohol with excess in his blood, he entered the tunnel at a high speed, the Mercedes that he was unlicensed to drive was hit by a Fiat Uno which has never been found, and neither the Princess nor Dodi Fayed were wearing their seatbelts. Quite a tragic seatbelt commercial it would make. I hear the cynical crash inspector from Fight Club. “See the way the girls retainer is wrapped around the ashtray? Might make a good anti-smoking ad.”

But the negative publicity for the paparazzi (not that I’ve seen much that was positive) had already come out. Suddenly the event was not only critical of what was recorded, but also critical of the means in which we were receiving the information. Paparazzi became a household word, and with people eager for a scapegoat, they began to immediately point the finger. Shows usually criticized for their lack of newsworthy information became heroes by being vessels for the public scrutiny. The event itself, if one could really call it that anymore, was just a series of arguments to attack the media.

The scenes which compiled what we saw were really our only option for belief. Hardly anyone was actually at the scene, especially when compared with the mass numbers of witnesses and victims to the September 11th occurrence, so there’s not too many people who can claim that they really saw the raw, unedited version of the story. We were all exposed to the same carefully sequenced (most scenes were, after all, approved by Her Majesty’s Department of the State), and altogether short tapes which constituted nothing more than a testment to Diana and Dodi Fayed’s whereabouts. It was the words which made this story compelling. The news would show the same tape of the couple exiting the Ritz, but have voice over dialogue that had nothing to do with the tape.

Even now, so long after her death, the media is still in love with the Princess. But the people are quickly forgetting. Ed Bayley, an American, commented to the BBC, “I must admit that I wouldn't have remembered it was the anniversary of her death if the media hadn't reminded me.” Most Britains have not forgotten. When I was in London last July, there were banners, cards, and flowers to her on the gates to the royals’ apartments. She would have been forty years old. Her glitz also seemed to fade for some; a group of Sunday school students in the UK were left in tears when two ministers told the group of twenty that she had lead an “immoral lifestyle,” she had not repented for her sins, and that after her death, she had gone to Hell.

Before anyone had a chance to react, the media had gotten in on the ground floor. As Murray said to Jack, I became immediately swept away in the aura, unable to look at the situation objectively. I was now a part of it, perpetuating it, even. We all still are. Because the truth of the matter is this: she was just one person. Helpful as she was, it was only because she was a royal that we cared.

Car accidents happen every day, and for anyone else they are not reported as accidents, but traffic delays. I myself have been in a car accident, but when my mother turned on the radio, the announcer only mentioned the three-car collision that stretched over a mile of highway. No sympathy, just the facts. And it’s not that I felt more important, because that’s the point. No one had taped me, no one cared about me. I am the only one who seems to still care about this. If there had been film, it would have been an expose about drunk drivers and their victims who were fortunate to be wearing seatbelts. In their news section, the Internet Movie Database had the following interesting article:

"TV News Warps Reality, Says Study
A UCLA study of television newscasts airing in Los Angeles has concluded that stations play up stories of violence with strong ‘visual intrigue,’ while rarely dealing with deaths and injuries with weaker visual appeal. For example, during the period of the study, TV newscasts ran stories about only 13 percent of the people who died in falls and 4 percent of those who died from accidental poisonings. However, they reported on 98 percent of the homicides and 100 percent of the deaths from fires. "

Most of us didn’t need an article to clue us in to this phenomenon, however. Reading a newspaper versus watching the evening news easily proves this study. Both have their own agendas. The evening news will pick visually exciting stories, and the newspaper will tend to pick stories with the possibility of more words. That’s the great thing about tragedies: there’s a lot to see and say.

In recent news, there is to be an art exhibit dedicated to the life of Princess Diana. The exhibition features work by Kumiko Shimizu, and is entitled “Abused.” It chronicles the life of the Princess since her marriage until her death, focusing on Diana trying to shed her fairy tale image. I don’t think that any amount of painting or sculpture could ever do that.

The combination of footage around the event and the proper use of language were the greatest influences in the public’s view of this affair. It didn’t matter how little they had, but how much they played it, instilling the same, tried-and-true titles. So long as they could capitalize on her fame, the event could become even more tragic. In the end, we all saw this event just as the media wanted us to see it, through their perfect, hypercommercialized eyes. Diana the Savoir. Diana the Pure. Diana the Abused. Diana, the Princess.

See the gates to the royals' apartments decked out for what would have been Diana's 40th birthday; very surreal imagery

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