Reality Television: Up All Night S01 E01

It’s that time of the year–a certain crispness in the air (unless you live in LA), crinkling leaves littering the ground (unless you live in LA), and the mingling sense of desperation and excitement that announces the arrival of pilot season (only if you live in LA).

I want to like Up All Night. Arrested Development ended five years ago and Will Arnett needs a hit. I love the incredibly talented Maya Rudolph, and Christina Applegate is a perfectly acceptable blond everywoman. She’s not especially quirky, but that’s okay, since she’s playing the generic mommy-executive type.

The premise is unfortunately simple: Mommy (Applegate) returns to work after having Baby, Daddy (Arnett) used to work (apparently he played hockey and worked in a law firm, definitively establishing Arnett’s Canadian heritage) but now he’s Mr. Mom, and Mommy’s boss is a real wackadoo (Rudolph). How will Mommy balance career and family? Will Daddy get resentful as Baby’s primary caregiver? And how will Crazy Boss provide hilarious comic relief? Pretty standard stuff.

Up All Night is completely watchable, but I’m having some real difficulty pinpointing exactly what is so boring about this show. At times the dialogue is pretty snappy, but then there are some clunky expository lines that hopefully will disappear once the show gets underway. There’s a certain leniency required to critique a pilot episode because its demands are so wholly different from an episode that comes halfway through an established series. So I’m willing to forgive the leaden repartee between Arnett’s character and Applegate’s in this early episode, but that doesn’t change the fact that Up All Night is just plain tedious.

If Emily Spivey, the creator, is sincerely trying to create a series that provokes the same feelings of ennui and malaise (god bless the French) in her audience that the Mommy and Daddy characters feel, then job well done. A rousing success.

The problem is that this strategy is too successful. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a mewling brat clinging to my neck as I puree real food into baby slops, but this show is tedious. I’m inclined to think that even if I could relate to the PARENTING EXPERIENCE (emphasis mine), I’d still find Up All Night dull and uninspired.

Yeah, babies change your life. It’s really tough at first, but then you get used to it. Almost 7 billion people have had or will have this revelation. Does this really mean we need a sitcom about it? And who’s the target audience for a show about the difficulties of being young(ish), white, middle-class, and raising a kid? Do other youngish, white, middle-class people really want to watch a show about the struggles of their peers? If I’ve been at work all day dealing with an infantile boss, or I’ve been home dealing with an actual infant, do I really want to come home and watch more of the same?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: good television is an escape from the mundane; great television is an escape, but it also makes you think. Mildly watchable, but mostly uninteresting, television is home movies with higher production values. And no one wants to see another YouTube video of your adorable baby. Just like homemade sex videos, keep that shit to yourself.

Incidentally, if anyone wants to see an awesome show that’s superficially about parenting, I would recommend Raising Hope. I caught up on the first season of Raising Hope a few months ago and it’s easily one of the best sitcoms on television right now. Up All Night is about raising a baby, but Raising Hope is about the people raising a baby.

This may seem like a negligible discrepancy, but it makes all the difference. Applegate and Arnett’s characters are bland, suburban parents, while Rudolph’s character is the insane outlier that redeems the show from the domain of the purely mediocre. Raising Hope inverts this formula: the Mommy and Daddy characters are cut from the same cloth as Rudolph’s Up all Night character, as are many of the supporting roles, and only the Baby-Daddy’s character is bland–but necessarily so, as a foil to the trash-talking, chain-smoking Mommy and the oblivious, but well-meaning, Daddy. If you’re looking for diversion over parenting tips, laughs over commiseration, skip Up All Night and check out Raising Hope instead. The second season premieres next week on FOX, so you’ve still got a week to catch up. Stay tuned!

Reality (&) Television: Celebrity Apprentice and The Donald

"We ain't got no friends, our troubles never end, no Christmas cards to send, Daddy likes men."

America, meet your new royal family. Manhattan may not be Camelot, but with its dragon-sized rats, plastic-surgeried princesses, and barons of real estate, it may just be the perfect headquarters for the nefarious wheeling and dealing of the Trump family. Royal wedding got you down? Tired of clicking through photos of Princess Beatrice’s uncanny representation of the female reproductive system in chapeau form? Osama, who? Try two hours watching the grandiose aspirations of the nouveau riche instead!

Here’s an embarrassing disclosure! I absolutely love Celebrity Apprentice, but I am constitutionally incapable of watching it without another more pressing diversion to partially distract my attention from its crushing monotony. Celebrity Apprentice is the background noise to my household chores, and while I’m certain I couldn’t match socks without it, I’m also convinced that our relationship is like listening to Hannah Montana while studying for an exam, rather than the requisite brain-enhancing classical music. After two hours of repetitive arguments, redundant business jargon, and ceaseless pettiness among adults, I need a thesaurus to come up with that third synonym for perpetuity.

But as the internet explodes with the possibility of a 2012 presidential campaign for Donald Trump, I am moved to examine my affinity for Celebrity Apprentice, and the social factors that cause an exceptional businessman, and a pretty mediocre guy, to believe that he is qualified to lead a country of millions.

It’s clear from the start that I’ve never watched Celebrity Apprentice for The Donald. In fact, this fourth season of Celebrity Apprentice, and eleventh season of the Apprentice franchise, is the first season I’ve watched all the way through. When this round of Celebrity Apprentice began back in March, I had just watched an excellent documentary about Joan Rivers. Rivers triumphed in the final round of Celebrity Apprentice 2, and her experience as a contestant on the show encouraged me to watch the first episode of the new season.

What I encountered was an intriguing mix of B-list celebrities (and below…way, way below), ludicrous challenges, deserving charities, and an abundance of kitsch, all subject to the unparalleled hubris of one Donald J. Trump, Sr. Most of the contestants had cursory careers as musicians, models, motivational speakers, or exemplars of reality television stardom, but I think the most appropriate occupational categorization is simply, “personalities.” I wouldn’t go so far as to say that all the contestants are untalented, but what does Gary Busey have in common with LaToya Jackson, Meatloaf, Star Jones, and Lil Jon? An enormous personality, and no qualms about expressing it.

So this, then, is the appeal of Celebrity Apprentice for me. Has-beens and wannabes with something to say, even if their careers are in a slump, or never took off at all. There’s no pleasure in watching successful people argue with other successful people about who happens to be more successful. The real treat is seeing scrappy underdogs coerce, squabble, and undermine their way into a brief encounter with The Donald’s limelight. Amongst a crowd of clowns and rubes, Trump emerges as the buffoon most likely to succeed.

What then do we make of this purported presidential campaign? As no formal announcement has yet been made, it remains to be seen whether Trump might garner enough early support to launch a serious bid, however, we can certainly ponder his qualifications for the job and wonder why he seems to think he’d make an exceptional president.

I would guess that before the wildly popular Apprentice franchise, which first aired in January 2004, Trump was not a household name. Surely Trump was known as a real estate mogul in New York City, but it’s doubtful that his future constituents across America were familiar with his particular type of wealth and nepotism. The Apprentice allowed Trump to become the nationwide brand of which he’d always dreamed. Remember the t-shirts emblazoned with his essential manifesto? “You’re fired” became a unifying catchphrase across the country, at least for a few years. Was a presidential run a long-term goal in Trump’s ten-year plan since he first uttered that resonant phrase?

Or is Trump’s political ambition the result of years of yes-men telling him he can do anything? “Your hair looks especially wind-resistant today, Mr. Trump, and by the way, have you ever thought of running for president? You’ve got my vote!” It strikes me as incredibly arrogant that a man believes he can ascend to the highest governmental position in the United States with little more than a popular television program and several thousand greased palms. Has anyone asked Trump about his foreign policy experience yet? Or perhaps which newspapers and magazines he reads regularly in order to stay informed and to understand the world?

I digress. This shouldn’t be an attack on Trump, but more a questioning of his impetus for considering a presidential campaign. I am finding it difficult to discern what exactly in his background has helped shape the desired characteristics and attitudes of a world leader. When I think about Trump, I think about money. How is someone whose defining attribute is a Mammon-like talent for creating and maintaining wealth, except for those occasional forays into bankruptcy, in any way qualified to become the next president? Have reality and reality television become so enmeshed that a competent television personality directly translates into a competent presidential personality? Will I finally learn what the celebrity-endorsed Reaganomics was all about through its latter-day counterpart in Trumponomics?

I’m mostly indifferent to the death of Osama bin Laden, save for one crucial detail. As Barack Obama strode confidently down the red-carpeted hall, toward a podium where he would address millions of people across the world, he stepped on a few toes. These toes were undoubtedly encased in custom-made leather Oxfords, and possibly afflicted with gout from a lifetime of caviar and rare game. As our ever-stoic Barry delivered his initial greeting, superseding Trump’s latest dismissal, a nation of reality TV enthusiasts were jerked from the palatial hell Trump had assuredly created in his own mind, and forced to encounter the brutal nature of true reality television. Stay tuned.

The Self-Made Secret Millionaire S02 E01

Secret Millionaire Dani Johnson donates $20,000 to the Love Kitchen

You can’t make fun of a show like this. Even if your shriveled tar-black heart barely ekes out enough blood to sustain life, or you fed your soul to the devil’s dog, you can’t make fun of this show.

On Secret Millionaire, cinéma vérité meets The Oprah Winfrey Show. In this episode, self-made millionaire, and 41-year-old grandmother of three (okay, you can poke fun a little), Dani Johnson travels across Knoxville, Tennessee to find opportunities for volunteering. She visits three deserving local organizations–a food kitchen, a music school for underprivileged kids, and a bedroom makeover service for kids with life-threatening illnesses–and ultimately decides to split a fair chunk of change among them.

Johnson is not the sort of dollar bill burning millionaire we’ve come to expect from our wealthy public figures. She is candid about her own struggles, including a time in her early twenties when she was homeless and running her business out of the back of her car. Naturally I assumed that a television show depicting the generosity of self-made millionaires would undoubtedly be an American production, but Secret Millionaire is a British import which aired six successful seasons in the U.K.

Even if you disagree with Johnson’s evangelical beliefs and her statement that she normally makes charitable donations in the name of Jesus rather than reveal her identity, Secret Millionaire is a highly palatable reality television show about the decent things people do for each other. ABC has quietly cleansed any of Johnson’s references to her faith, even though we do see her reading her bible at times. This strategy depicts Johnson as an ordinary woman who made it big–the sort of well-intentioned neighbor that anyone can emulate.

Johnson is a perfect giver, and the organizations to which she donates are filled with ideal recipients: men and women whose faces register shock and whose eyes well with tears as soon as Johnson reveals her millionaire identity. It’s notable that she first explains her similarities to them, and then launches into the crucial difference that allows her to part with significant amounts of money. If we’re poor, we can hope to benefit from the behavior of people like Dani Johnson, but if we’re middle class, we can foresee a future for ourselves in which we can give the way Johnson gives.

Secret Millionaire is an interesting program because it asks viewers to envision themselves in a dual role of giver and recipient. We are encouraged to relate to the people Johnson helps–no homeless, unwashed schizophrenics proclaiming the end of days here–but we are also expected to understand Johnson’s position as a woman who’s seen some equally rough times and can now do something for a struggling community. The entire premise of this show would be lost if the secret millionaires were old money heiresses and landed aristocrats.

Secret Millionaire recognizes that even if people’s lives are punctuated with unemployment and welfare checks, they still want to believe in their potential to attain greater things. And since money is often the measure of a man, Secret Millionaire convinces us that anyone can have it, and thus anyone can be a better person (Although in Johnson’s case, many online references point to her multiple businesses as pyramid scheme scams). Stay tuned!

Shedding for the Wedding, or What’s Eating Reality TV on The CW?

Well, this just seems needlessly cruel.

Reality television, have you given up? The CW used to be a haven for primetime soaps rife with angsty teenagers and parents who just didn’t understand. Before cable, when I wanted really terrible reality shows, I’d watch FOX. I have great memories of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie shoveling manure on The Simple Life, but when I think about the CW (or at least when I was a kid, the WB), it was all One Tree Hill and 7th Heaven.

What happened here? Has your early aughts demographic aged enough that now all we think about is getting hitched? And when we’re not pondering wedded bliss, are we contemplating our massive weight gains after years of sitting on the couch to watch our favorite CW (or most likely, WB/UPN) programs?

So I guess from this perspective, Shedding for the Wedding makes sense. We grew up with your crappy sitcoms, and now we’re going to lose weight vicariously with your crappy reality television. What’s next, CW? Might I offer a few suggestions as my generation plods heavily into the next stage of life?

• Business Babies: tagline–The Show Where Your Baby Learns the Value of a Dollar
• Divorce, Of Course!: A high-stakes competition where winners receive gratis legal counsel and mediation conducted by an ex-porn star
• Shedding for the Second Wedding: no explanation needed
• Debt-Setters: Contestants travel around the world performing embarrassing stunts for the chance to eliminate their credit card and student loan debt–Fear Factor meets Deal Or No Deal
• Senior Moment: After ten years of marriage, can you still remember your wife’s birthday? Or your children’s names?

Wow, coming up with mediocre reality television shows is pretty draining! Now I can see that Jersey Shore really is one of the best. If my other options for mindless reality TV are as bad as these, then I guess I’ll stick to my friends at the shore every time. Either that or Food Network, where I can have my competitive cupcakes and shed them too. Can’t get fat from watching other people bake thousands of miniature cupcakes–only really, really hungry. Stay tuned!

“Don’t Ever Talk to Me Again”: Sammi Snaps and Ron-Ron Retaliates on Jersey Shore S03 E07

"Be a woman and man-up for your shit for once."

Here’s the problem with Jersey Shore, Ron-Ron, and the rest of the male guidos: do they want their women to act like women, or do they want them to “get some balls,” as Ronnie articulately demands, and act like men? And what does it mean to be a woman or a man in the guidoverse? The Guido Boys make jokes about how the women in the house should be cooking and cleaning, but then they fuss with their hair and cook elaborate Sunday dinners. Women are unsurprisingly seen as bitches, whores, and the rarest unicorn: the sort of girl you’d bring home to Mama and eventually make your wife. She can even be a bitch, like Sammi Sweetheart, but she should never ever be a whore. That violates basic tenets of guido culture.

So let’s review: both women and men engage in some basic GTL (Gym-Tanning-Laundry for you Jersey Shore neophytes), both can be employed at a boardwalk t-shirt shop, and both can skive off work at 11AM for some tequila shots at the bar next-door. A guido never hits a lady guido (also known as a “guidette”), but lady guidos can brawl with each other and occasionally deliver crushing right hooks to their guido men. Profanity-laden diatribes are common and socially-acceptable, but it is possible to cross a certain line. Tossing all your ex-girlfriend’s personal belongings onto the deck and smashing her glasses in a fit of ‘roid rage because she had the audacity to sexy-dance with a juicehead at the club just isn’t cool, bro.

It doesn’t matter if she left a used tampon in the bathroom (ahem, Angelina) or puked into your favorite bedazzled Ed Hardy t-shirt–you just don’t trash someone’s personal property. The oft-called family’s reactions to Ronnie’s behavior are integral to understanding this unwritten guido moral code. When Sammi confronts Ronnie about his reckless destruction of her side of the shared room, she doesn’t get angry immediately. First she tries to understand what kind of guido, and what kind of man, commits such a heinous act:

"It amazes me how you can do what you've done and get away with it like murder. But the one time that I do something out of spite, it's not okay for you. *burp* This is not okay."

Certain actions have correlating punishments for these housemates, but the crime of sexy-dancing is too minor an offense to warrant Ron’s insane actions. Ron’s behavior offers a nice counterpart to J WOWW’s (aka Jenni) recent relationship drama. After a phone call break-up, Jenni’s ex-boyfriend Tom leaves her two dogs trapped in their house with no food and water. When Jenni arrives to rescue her poochies, she enters her bedroom and sees that Tom has done much the same thing as Ronnie. Some of her stuff is trashed, but Tom has also stolen valuables, like her watch and her external hard drive.

On this episode of Jersey Shore, we see Tom’s perspective on the failed relationship with Jenni through the massive, hulking lens of Ronnie. We see the events that prompt Ronnie’s actions and have to wonder what kind of person is capable of ransacking another human being’s life. Even Mike called out Ronnie for his behavior, saying that Ron was disregarding a basic “human code” of conduct that transcends both “boy code” and “girl code.”

What I’m most curious about is how the group will treat Ronnie now that Sammi has left the house. Will they ostracize him for his clearly despicable behavior, or will they act as if nothing’s happened? Mike is quite the apologetic Ron-Ron appeaser, but since he did acknowledge the severity of Ronnie’s behavior, will he be the one to confront him? Guess we’ll find out next week. Stay tuned!