“When you’re a public figure,” sighed Ellen DeGeneres in “For Your Approval,” her new Netflix special, “you’re open to everyone’s interpretation.” The comedian was reflecting on the radical and somewhat savage reinterpretation of her image after allegations of “racism, fear, and intimidation” on the set of “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” were published by BuzzFeed in 2020. She went from being beloved (or is that pronounced belove-ED? she asks repeatedly), to being, arguably, “the most hated person in America.”
Amid long and amusing bits about how strange it is that magicians are asked to entertain dementia patients in nursing homes, DeGeneres spends a good deal of time in what she calls her “farewell” performance processing her newfound infamy. The result is a somewhat disjointed, confusing work of meta-art. Still, “For Your Approval” raises valid questions about the intersection of celebrity, gender, mental health and ravenous Twitter mobs.
Given that she’s been canceled twice — once involving her show “Ellen” and once involving the Ellen DeGeneres of flesh and blood — she clearly has some perspective to share.
Questions like: How does an artist truly feel about being canceled? Is Ellen really sorry about what she allegedly subjected others to? Or, does she just wish Americans would be less sexist, less naive about their idols and grow the eff up?
Given that she’s been canceled twice — once involving her show “Ellen” and once involving the Ellen DeGeneres of flesh and blood — she clearly has some perspective to share. Her first cancellation occurred after she came out in 1997 on her sitcom (and slightly before that in real life). She watched her show promptly get a parental advisory and then being canceled. When Oprah Winfrey interviewed her about coming out, death threats and bomb scares ensued. Americans needed to grow the eff up.
In 2003, she rebounded mightily with the launch of “The Ellen DeGeneres Show.” For most of its 19-year run, the seemingly sunshine-y host basked in fame, good vibes, good ratings, great wealth and the love of a large and loyal fan base. They supported her as she playfully pranked her beautiful guests, danced with her merry audiences and exhorted her followers to be kind.
She was, as she explained in her prelapsarian 2018 special “Relatable,” the “be-kind girl.” Everyone loved her and believed Stage Ellen and Real Ellen were one and the same. During her mammograms, she quipped, fans would drop by and ask her if she could dance for them.
Then came three stories that prompted her second cancellation. There was a 2018 New York Times profile aptly titled “Ellen DeGeneres is Not As Nice as You Think.” Next came a 2019 interview with Dakota Johnson about, yes, DeGeneres snubbing Johnson’s birthday party. Then came that 2020 exposé in BuzzFeed that accused her of overseeing a toxic work culture. That blew her image to shreds. Suddenly, the “be-kind girl” was reinterpreted.
The allegations were many: She was abusive to her staff (especially her Black staff), guests, celebrities, waiters, etc. The Dakota Johnson dustup revealed that Ellen, who was virtual LGBTQ royalty, had skipped Johnson’s birthday party to hang out with former President George W. Bush, who’d so doggedly opposed same-sex marriage.
Smelling blood, the internet, that instrument of swift vigilantism, got to work reframing Ellen’s narrative. Remember that time she made Taylor Swift cry? Or that time she mocked Sofia Vegara’s English? How about the short-skirt shaming of Johnson? Earlier whisperings and blind items were recontextualized, and not in ways that made Ellen look good.
DeGeneres works through a lot of this pain in “For Your Approval.” Except when she doesn’t. There are stand-alone bits that have nothing to do with her travails. She recounts how she rescued a soaked dog who didn’t need rescuing. To wit, she kidnapped someone’s pet who was just minding its own business after a bath.
How this observational material relates to the rest of the set is not entirely clear. What is clear is that DeGeneres is reflecting deeply on her ordeal. She’s in therapy to deal with the hatred. She’s no longer using Botox and fillers. She feels judged when she dines out. She’s gardening to pass the time of day.
What is clear is that DeGeneres is reflecting deeply on her ordeal. Near the end of a set that subtly reminds us that being a woman in entertainment, especially a gay woman, isn’t easy, the audience gives her its thunderous and extended applause when she asserts, “I’m a strong woman.” But even after this moment of exultation and apparent resolution, DeGeneres returns to the pain that she can’t shake. “I’ve spent an entire lifetime,” she sighs as her audience sits back down, “trying to make people happy, and I’ve cared far too much what other people think of me. So the thought of anyone thinking I was mean was devastating to me.” Caring too much about what people think is precisely what’s tanking her mental health, she says. So she’s done with all that! Finished (rapturous applause)! Then she claws it back: “But if I’m being honest … and I have a choice of people remembering me as someone who is mean or who is beloved. Belove-ED? … I’d choose that” (more rapturous applause). She doesn’t care what people think. Except she does care. Their contempt inflicts tremendous pain. But no, it doesn’t. She’s past it all. But she clearly isn’t. All of this emotional toggling may be contradictory, but that’s also what makes it feel authentic. It also warns Twitter mobs to mob more intelligently. Not that such a corrective could ever occur. So maybe the proper corrective is for fans and haters alike to never, ever become part of a Twitter mob? It’s time to grow up. “I used to say,” she explains, “I didn’t care about what people thought of me, but I said that at the height of my popularity.” Now that she’s older, she’s more reflective. Being more reflective, of course, doesn’t necessarily resolve a dilemma, it just clarifies what the dilemma is. In this case, the dilemma is that the critique hurts her. It always will, even though she wishes it wouldn’t. The clarification is the resolution.
Jacques Berlinerblau is a professor of Jewish civilization at Georgetown University. 
