"Fame Isn't Sexually Transmitted"
Who can really have an opinion about reality TV anymore? Back in 1991, MTV's The Real World seemed fresh and, well, innovative. The concept was sound: to show the inherent conflicts between different segments of the nation's young people -- many of whom obviously never lived with anyone but their families -- and let the personality sparks fly.
Fast forward a decade and a half, and the show is little more than an animated Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement crossed with Elimidate, perhaps the most visceral and enjoyable dating show of all time. When two castmembers hooked up in Real World Hawaii, it was unprecedented. Now, characters immediately scope out who's gonna get with who at the outset and strive to take alcohol abuse to new heights.
With Survivor, the networks discovered the beauty of reality TV (chiefly, its low production costs), and entertainment has never be the same. Clearly, celeb-centered shows have a bit more resonance, for obvious reasons. Who can ever forget the not-so-sublime and eminently enjoyable mess Anna Nicole Smith made of herself on E! a few years ago? Howaaahrd!
At least she had some personal achievement to bank on, even if it was parading as a buxom "Guess?" model and marrying an aged billionaire. Today, we have the offspring of celebrities and bona fide successful people who are intent on making a "name" for themselves, none who do it any better than the uber-insipid and ultra-vapid Hilton sisters.
Enter Brandon and Brody Jenner, the sons of decathlete Bruce Jenner and the stepsons of record producer extraordinaire David Foster. They also have a mother who embodies the SoCal mantra that "age is not an option." Both are ostensibly musicians and flirted with college (and University of Colorado at Boulder, which speaks volumes). Brandon and Brody's new show, The Princes of Malibu, is nothing short of the thematic sequel to last year's Laguna Beach, MTV's series on the young, restless, asinine and oh so pretty. TPM is clearly intended to be funnier than LB, but the whole Jenner-Foster compound has already been pre-packaged for celebrity.
What's the bottom line? Does David Foster really need to do Larry David channeling Ozzie Nelson and Al Bundy? Do his recording artists need the ancillary publicity all that much? My guess is that mommy wants her beautiful boys to become celebrities. And lo, TPM's website substantiates it: both himbos will be featured in a "Guess?" campaign this fall. Anna Nicole would be very proud, indeed.
The highlight of the TPM's first episode was a t-shirt that B&B's friend/houseguest wore whilst participating in the staged hijinx, blazoned with the title of this post. Wearing a shirt like that in the company he keeps is such an up-front in-your-face diss to his gravy train that one must assume that he went to boarding school.
If only the likes of Evelyn Waugh and P.G. Wodehouse were here to chronicle the decline and fall of the spawn of American wealth. Of course, no one really reads anymore so the point is pretty moot.
Fast forward a decade and a half, and the show is little more than an animated Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement crossed with Elimidate, perhaps the most visceral and enjoyable dating show of all time. When two castmembers hooked up in Real World Hawaii, it was unprecedented. Now, characters immediately scope out who's gonna get with who at the outset and strive to take alcohol abuse to new heights.
With Survivor, the networks discovered the beauty of reality TV (chiefly, its low production costs), and entertainment has never be the same. Clearly, celeb-centered shows have a bit more resonance, for obvious reasons. Who can ever forget the not-so-sublime and eminently enjoyable mess Anna Nicole Smith made of herself on E! a few years ago? Howaaahrd!
At least she had some personal achievement to bank on, even if it was parading as a buxom "Guess?" model and marrying an aged billionaire. Today, we have the offspring of celebrities and bona fide successful people who are intent on making a "name" for themselves, none who do it any better than the uber-insipid and ultra-vapid Hilton sisters.
Enter Brandon and Brody Jenner, the sons of decathlete Bruce Jenner and the stepsons of record producer extraordinaire David Foster. They also have a mother who embodies the SoCal mantra that "age is not an option." Both are ostensibly musicians and flirted with college (and University of Colorado at Boulder, which speaks volumes). Brandon and Brody's new show, The Princes of Malibu, is nothing short of the thematic sequel to last year's Laguna Beach, MTV's series on the young, restless, asinine and oh so pretty. TPM is clearly intended to be funnier than LB, but the whole Jenner-Foster compound has already been pre-packaged for celebrity.
What's the bottom line? Does David Foster really need to do Larry David channeling Ozzie Nelson and Al Bundy? Do his recording artists need the ancillary publicity all that much? My guess is that mommy wants her beautiful boys to become celebrities. And lo, TPM's website substantiates it: both himbos will be featured in a "Guess?" campaign this fall. Anna Nicole would be very proud, indeed.
The highlight of the TPM's first episode was a t-shirt that B&B's friend/houseguest wore whilst participating in the staged hijinx, blazoned with the title of this post. Wearing a shirt like that in the company he keeps is such an up-front in-your-face diss to his gravy train that one must assume that he went to boarding school.
If only the likes of Evelyn Waugh and P.G. Wodehouse were here to chronicle the decline and fall of the spawn of American wealth. Of course, no one really reads anymore so the point is pretty moot.
posted by ronpaulpoets @ 7/11/2005
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