The sadness that pervades this new season of “American Idol” has trumped, at least so far, the emotional uplift that’s supposed to come from the triumph of its eventual winner. The first two episodes of the Fox music competition – both huge ratings successes, dwarfing all but the final episodes of previous years in total audience – dwelled almost entirely on pathos. Contestant after contestant has paraded themselves before the judges without a speck of talent to offer, and seem shocked when informed of their deficiencies. A viewer can’t help but wonder, watching this spectacle of failure and misery, whether it’s humanly possible for so many people to be so delusional about themselves.

But how surprising is it, really? It’s a longstanding truism that large numbers of Americans will do just about anything to land themselves on camera. This isn’t even an indictment of reality television; one need only watch a few minutes of a show like “Good Morning America” or “Today” to discover that hordes of people will stand in the bitter cold and rain just for their moment in the sun. There’s something intoxicating about the red light of the camera. It’s some kind of weird affirmation of our existence to land our mugs on television. The Internet may be changing our television watching habits, but it hasn’t affected our passion for the kind of fame – however fleeting – that a television appearance can offer.

It’s that addictive quality that has drawn so many losers to “American Idol” this season. From observing the wacky trajectory of last year’s off-key contestant William Hung, the thousands who flock to “Idol” auditions around the country now realize that they stand a decent chance of getting face time on Fox even if – or perhaps because – they can’t sing a note. As if to reward that faith, Fox has announced plans to devote dozens of hours on “Idol” this season to the wacky auditions; it will be several weeks before the show settles down to the matter at hand, of choosing among two dozen true talents for the grand prize of a recording contract.

The first episode last Tuesday opened with a priceless example of this phenomenon: a wretched rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” from a hapless contestant, followed by a single close-up shot of Simon Cowell’s infamous raised eyebrow. No words were spoken. We knew, before even seeing Simon’s face, just what he would think of the performance; in fact, the use of silence was a clever editing twist that demonstrated the producers’ sly humor. We heard Simon’s biting wit in our minds, remembering from previous seasons his multiple variations on a theme along the lines of “that was simply awful.” Once the show got underway, we discovered that Simon has become, if anything, even harsher in his judgments this season. He now seems to relish a bit of torture; he likes asking contestants what they thought of their own performances, as if to mock their lack of introspection. Only then does he deliver his own withering critique.

At the end of Tuesday’s opening episode, the arrival of Mary Roach represented a new low (or high, depending on your idea of entertainment) for the competition. After making clear in a pre-audition interview that the young blonde believed herself to be supremely talented, Ms. Roach took the stage and calmly informed the panel of judges (which included rock star Mark McGrath, whose resemblance to the actor Ethan Hawke is eerily dead-on) that she intended to put her cosmetology career on hold if she were given the chance to go to Hollywood. (Ms. Roach even informed the judges that if successful, she planned to change her last name to Guilbeaux.) She then launched into a tone-deaf performance of Carole King’s “I Feel The Earth Move,” that sounded much like what happens when rubber hits road. After she finished, a long beat of silence followed from the stunned judges, until Simon finally spoke.

“How do you think you did?” Simon asked.

“Not too shabby!” the confident Ms. Roach replied.

“On a scale of one to 10?”

“An eight,” Ms. Roach said.

“Honestly,” Simon countered quickly, “you have one of the worst voices I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I think you’re saying that,” she replied, “just to annoy me.”

Like so many before her, Ms. Roach was suggesting that numerous friends and family had praised her singing and encouraged her to compete. Were they, too, in on the fame-seeking conspiracy? Probably. At one point, when Ms. Roach referred to the “lots of voices” she had at her disposal, Mark Mc-Grath suggested rather tartly that the voices might be inside her head. That gave the judges a good laugh at Ms. Roach’s expense, which seemed to be precisely the point. Even Ms. Roach seemed good-natured about it, and promised the judges that despite their harsh critique, she planned to leave the audition with her head high. She even had kind words about the judges’ appearance; she praised Paula Abdul’s looks and Randy Jackson’s weight, and proclaimed Mark McGrath “a hottie.”

“I really thought I was going to Hollywood.” Ms. Roach said, “but … whatever!”

The Roach moment seemed manufactured for our amusement, almost as though she’d huddled with the producers ahead of time to go over her remarks. When Simon Cowell describes something as “perfectly awful,” he’s nailed it; this year’s losers seem more wonderfully bad, more delightfully dismal than ever before. Each of these pathetic would-be singers comes to the competition with a story meant to manipulate our emotions, and it works.

Similarly, the successful acts come equipped with their own little dramas. One singer told the judges of how she pawned her wedding ring to raise the money to come to the audition; naturally, she got through to the next round. One young, appealing male performer – a singer in a rock band back home – endeared himself to the judges (and us) by revealing that he’d come to the audition without telling his bandmates. After he got picked to go to Hollywood for the next phase of the contest, “Idol” producers followed him home to film the reaction of his friends to the news. His drummer – looking rather pleased with this chance for a little network airtime – used the opportunity to storm off in what looked like mock disgust.

There’s nothing wrong with these obvious plays for attention from the “Idol” camera. It’s a time-honored tradition for Americans to shame themselves on television, just for the chance to be known – even if it’s only for a moment. It’s a harmless variant on the preservationist impulse that drives most celebrities: everyone wants to be remembered for something. Contestants return to their hometowns as heroes, even those who appeared to humiliate themselves with their flagrant failings. “American Idol” has given them all they ever really wanted, anyway – a brief, shining moment of celebrity to call their own.