Twenty years have wrought many changes in Oprah's connection with her audience. She started as an effervescent reporter struggling to prove there was room on the talk-show circuit for a black Everywoman (incidentally, it was Roger Ebert who, during a dinner date, suggested she go for syndication). You can see over time how that dynamic changed: Oprah, who claims to shun fame (she always puts quotes around "celebrity" like she doesn't get it), starts wearing it like a badge when she's rolling with the A-listers, as if to let the audience know she can sit at the cool kids' table, but will also bend down to grace you from her pedestal. As a one-woman empire, she knows all too well that she's worshiped by many women in America, and often her guru ways can come off as self-congratulatory. Yet you can't deny her later-years role of fairy godmother has been the most fascinating. One of the only two full-length episodes in the collection involves her journey to South Africa, where she gave gifts to some 50,000 children. (Though oddly, this was paired with the other full-length episode, her opulent 50th birthday party.) She describes how she surprised each member of her studio audience with a brand-new car not because she wanted to shock some people, but because each audience member was selected specifically because they needed one. She rewards hardworking, giving people with lavish gifts they deserve--a home, a Porsche, a college scholarship. Even if you don't watch the show regularly, that aspect alone will pique your admiration. It's almost scary how much power Oprah has, but it's nice to see her using that power for good. --Ellen A. Kim