Intervention Intervention

My name is John. J-O-H-N.

I am a journalist. I live in suburban Philadelphia. I enjoy playing guitar, watching sports and going to concerts. You might look at my life and think "this kid has it all." But the truth is...

I'm addicted to Intervention.


It started as something to watch on OnDemand when there was nothing else on. But soon the tears and confessions of people I don't know going through real problems and, in most cases, being completely in denial of how much pain they are causing, became my addiction.

What would possess the suits at A&E to create a show like this? What would possess anyone to go on it and air their personal, embarrassing problems on national television? And what would possess normal, well-meaning viewers to watch it?

The Germans call it Schadenfreude, or taking pleasure in the pain of others. The ancient Greeks all the way through to the plays of Shakespeare, showed comedy as tragedy, that audiences enjoy the humiliation, degradation and pain of others so much that it becomes entertainment.


Intervention Parody

Perhaps the suits were sold on the shiny showwbiz of this addiction drama. After all, some of the addicts were connected to the music business. Former Days Of The New frontman Travis Meeks was treated for meth addiction. Former Three Dog Night frontman Chuck Negron watched his son Chuckie suffer through an addiction to heroin. And who could forget Tim, a producer, musician and talent promoter who ended up abusing her girlfriend's father and crying in a drainpipe while high on crack.


Travis Meeks on Intervention

Maybe it was the characters. It is clear that the Interventionists have several features of beloved TV characters: funny names, catch phrases. We know that Jeff Van Vonderen will eventually say "I see a lot of people who love you but they feel like they are losing you and they wanna fight to get you back. This is just inviting you to join that fight. So they are gonna say what they have to say and then you are gonna say what you have to say and then we're done." He is the tough guy, he breaks it down really simply. He is a straight shooter. We know Candy Finnigan will wear a scarf and too much makeup and will be in more tears than the family by the end. She is the mother. She has the heartfelt words. She thinks of the children. And then we have Ken Seally. He is the mysterious guy. He has mentioned time and again that he is a former addict, that he has skeletons in his closet. He seems soft and sensitive but when addicts try to leave, he has gotten hands on in the past. He is the enigma of the bunch.



But while dramatic, theatrical elements do exist, there is a big difference between Intervention and, say, The Bachelor, one of the elder statesmen in the reality TV genre, starting its twelfth season this week. Where most reality shows are loaded down with subtext, crafty editing, music and writers--these shows have writers--to make the reality more real. But it doesn't get more authentic, more gut-wrenching and more real than the hard light of day shining on people in the grip of drug addiction.


Because this is truly reality TV, you are not promised that B12 shot of redemption. The truth is that many addicts never recover. So anyone who says that they are watching for the sunny days and plucky acoustic music at the end are probably not real fans.

And anyone interested in therepy won't get much out of this either. We don't see the recovery. So really, it is only the downfall, the bottoming out. Similar to the Leif Garrett Behind The Music.

The only way you can survive watching this show week after week is if you are in it for observation, as some sort of sociological experiment. We all know someone who has struggled with drugs in some way but we never see how they combine their use (or abuse) of substances with their family life, with their relationships with friends and work. These things are private, just for the addict to struggle with and deal with. But Intervention allows complete access to these realities, to see how lies and denial and long-standing pain weighs on the ones we love.

So as I found myself week after week in front of the TV compulsively watching episode after harrowing episode. I get almost immunized to the crying, the betrayal and the anger. I develop a tolerance. I find myself thinking about getting more Intervention, downloading episodes from the internet, watching free clips on the A&E website. One is too many, 1000 is never enough.

And last week, when my brother caught me downloading the latest episode at 3am, he said enough is enough. I was on my way to a hotel for what I thought was my final interview. But all my friends and family were there. They read their letters and then they cried. Then I cried. But I didn't stay to hear their bottom lines. Because this show is great. And if you think I have a problem, then you are probably a fan of the Bachelor.