Last night was the grand finals of A Star is Born (the local version of American Idol) and Channel 2 was conquered by finals fever.

I think that the broadcast (before and after the news) lasted for seven hours. Interviews, reviews, nostalgia, the editors had plenty of materials to keep the viewers busy before the big moment arrives.

Admittedly, it's quite hard not be cynical about the whole thing. It's no secret that such shows are well-oiled moneymaking machines. That every frame is masterminded to maximize exposure to covert and explicit advertising, to maximize viewer interest and eagerness to remain glued to the screen, maximize viewer response via text messaging/chatrooms/blogs. The list is long.

Inevitably, all of this cynicism filters through to the musical content of the show as well. The choice of songs, and most of all the arrangements and performance direction. You cannot but be reminded that it is not art that you are consumer of, but a product.

And yet despite all of that, last night the Israeli element overcame it all and left me thankful for having had the privilige to witness a special humane moment.

Unlike the American version, the interaction between the host and essence of the show, Tzivka Hadar, and the contestants, adjudicators and participants was genuine. You couldn't help but admit that they truly love one another, that it didn't really matter to them who wins, that the truly important thing was to do as best they can for the evening's sake and for music sake.

When the winner was finally announced (it was hardcore rocker Jacko), his mother was brought to stage. I'm pretty sure he has no father, and Jacko's mother could barely stand on her own two feet. Jacko was only slightly stronger, but tears were aflowing and TV politically-correctness flew out the window. The boy's concern for his mother, the dam he could finally shatter to let loose all the emotion caged inside him for so long, the exuberance, were all presented raw on the screen. No well-timed camera changes in The Harry Truman Show-esque direction. It was the real thing, real live humans showing real emotions live. The entire televised system felt as much a part of it as the people experiencing the moment.

Tzvika Hadar stared at the camera with glistening eyes, concerned for the well-being of Jacko and his mother more than anything else. When the show was over he spent a good few minutes thanking live-on-air each and every member of the production by name (I checked later with the titles!). A real mensch.

And then we, the viewers and audience, were served true art. No glitz, no commercial blitz. Just a man with a song against the world, still concerned if his mum is okay.

But his voice didn't shake, his pitch didn't falter and his drive didn't slack-off. He was in his true element.

And so were we, for a moment, transcending the walls of capitalism and returning to what we had been taught in primary school that we are.

A song-loving people.