Down With the Queen

I'm tired of Oprah.

The self-proclaimed queen of daytime television irks me. This week, when Time magazine appeared in my common room, I took one look at the cover story--the one that refers to Ms. Winfrey as "The Beloved Oprah"--and screamed in frustration.

As if her syndicated talk show, her face on the cover of this month's issue of Vogue and a wildly popular television book club are not enough to establish her prominence on the American cultural scene. As if the $550 million she is reportedly worth is not enough to remind us that Oprah is a powerful woman who can make or break the authors, actors and self-help specialists that dominate her show's guest list.

Now Oprah has to monopolize 10 pages in Time, a magazine I rely on to address issues of somewhat weighty national and international significance. Instead, I am treated to excerpts from the journal Winfrey kept while filming the movie Beloved-excerpts that detail her insecurities as an actress and her pedagogical relationship with Jonathan Demme, the movie's director. He's a wonderful filmmaker, she writes, but more importantly, he has faith in Oprah. The on-screen adaptation of the Toni Morrison novel comes to theaters Oct. 16 and is the reason why Time's editorial staff developed a sudden interest in the woman whose name and face have become synonymous with losing weight and feeling great.

Oprah's fans--and I know they are out there--will undoubtedly jump to defend the woman who has won 32 Emmys and an Oscar nomination and who has distinguished herself as an advocate for victims of rape and child abuse. She has shown Americans, they would say, that a poor, black girl from Mississippi--words that Winfrey regularly uses on her show to describe herself--can succeed beyond her wildest dreams. Those fans certainly have a point. It's hard not to admire a woman who has obviously overcome much.

Over the years I have watched "The Oprah Winfrey Show" on a regular basis. Like many Americans, I have been entertained by her interviews with everyone from Michael Jordan to LeAnn Rimes to Meryl Streep. I've watched Oprah make potato salad with Patti Labelle, dance with Tina Turner and Gloria Estefan, and sing with Elton John. And I'll admit that on certain occasions--when a family is finally reunited or when a particularly homely homemaker is given the makeover of her dreams--I have been touched. Maybe even inspired.

But over the years I've also watched Oprah grow increasingly narcissistic and self-centered. When Steven Spielberg was a guest on her show last year, Oprah interrupted the director of Schindler's List to share with the audience excerpts from the journal she kept during the making of The Color Purple. We learned that Oprah was nervous before the filming began and impressed with her own performance. When John F. Kennedy Jr. came on the show, she could not fail to mention that she and Maria Shriver were the best of friends. Surprise, surprise. Two wealthy and prominent women obsessed with their self-image hang out together in their spare time.

Just this month, Oprah devoted an entire show to her "Vogue experience." Audience members were treated to a 45-minute peek into what it takes to transform a 44-year-old woman into a cover model--a bit too much information into the amount of make--up, hair gel, and manpower Vogue invested into America's "Every Woman."

Like many Americans, I read Beloved before it was featured on Oprah's book list. I loved it, and I applaud her efforts to bring a worthwhile literary masterpiece to life. But Beloved is a story, not another publicity vehicle for Oprah. She says she bought the rights to the book so she can tell the story of a runaway slave dealing with a past that refuses to let go.

It's an admirable goal, but part of me can't help but wonder how much Oprah really just wanted to tell another story about herself.

It's a story I'm tired of hearing. -GEORGIA N. ALEXAKIS