The current preoccupation with public personalities, mainly singers, actors and actresses ( or wannabies) is a strange phenomenon. Probably it has always been there in the background, anyway since mass communication emerged. But it is weird to go to the gym and see lines of young women, most of whom are well-educated with good jobs, reading some personality-oriented magazine or other.
Theory: the passionate interest in "personalities" is a piece of private shadenfeude, that is, it is as if people are visiting a virtual skittle alley, where they can watch the skittles being set up and then have the pleasure of watching them knocked down. How else can one explain the interest in the third short marriages of a second rate publicity-seekers in Hollywood? Or am I dissing some new religion?
It is certainly escapism.
I think you’re right, a combo of schadenfreude and escapism. Maybe boredom as well. I remember seeing translations of graffiti at Pompeii (or some Roman site) — one- or two-word mash notes to the handsome-gladiator-du-jour. Someone should have directed the scribblers to an Epicurean garden. . .
Given how desperately unhappy most of these “personalities” seem to be, what with their divorces and a scummy, voyeuristic media poking its nose into their bedroom windows, it’s amazing that anyone wants to be a celebrity.