"More To Love" And The Reality of Reality TV

DAHLINGS -

Reality shows, it must be noted, are far from reality. As most of my savvy readers know, “reality” is manipulated and edited to suit what the producers of the show are looking to show. Some of the contestants of Project Runway are kept on because they have fascinating personalities, while the less camera-friendly designers are let go. And many shows rely on keeping the participants isolated from outside contact as much as possible.

Imagine the pressure of having your every move filmed for television, trapped inside a house for weeks, and in some cases not allowed to interact with your fellow cast-members off-camera. (I learned that from a former Survivor cast member; there were employees specially hired to prevent the contestants from speaking to each other between takes!)

So it was with more than a fair share of skepticism that I approached More To Love, a reality show that features an overweight but appealing man, Luke Conley, who is 6'3" and weighs over 300 pounds. He has to choose between twenty overweight and appealing women.




I should warn you that all of the photos have been Photoshopped beyond belief.


Now, reality dating shows have a peculiar, outdated view of romance and marriage, of meeting “the one true love” and living happily ever after. How on earth is that supposed to “reality”? Especially within the confines of the genre. More To Love is no exception.

This might be feminist heresy, but I have to disagree with the critics who say the women were presented as “pathetic” and “otherized.” With the exception of a few bad fashion choices, all of the women were presented as sexy, pretty, and intelligent (again with a few exceptions). They stepped out of black limos in colorful evening gowns, hair perfect, makeup camera-ready, in sky-high heels. **











Some of them could have been pop idols; in fact one woman is a plus-size model, as is the strangely underused host, Emme. I admire Emme tremendously, pardon the pun. But she is only on for a few minutes at the beginning and the end, and seems slightly uncomfortable during the proceedings.



One hopes that during the show’s run she will help these women with their low self-esteem. In one on one interviews, each woman talked about what she wanted in a mate, her dating history, her feelings about her body, etc. What saddened moi was the self-hatred these women had for themselves. They didn’t seem to understand that the mere fact that they were on this show meant that they were far better-looking than average! In fact, quite a few were attractive in that slightly bland style television demands.




They focused on their large bodies as the reason they have/had been dateless. Most reality show contestants are deeply insecure. Why else would they be reality show contestants? But these women wore their hearts on their chiffon sleeves. Why on earth did they think a television show would be their “last chance for love”?

Here I would like to assert that my avoirdupois has never been an obstacle to dating, sex, multiple marriages, or any pleasurable interaction with the male sex. But then, I am a woman of broad mind and loose morals. There were some contestants who were comfortable with their size and happy with their bodies, which was a refreshing change.

At the end, ten women were sent packing, and this is one aspect of reality television I despise: the exit interview. Many of the women being sent home were completely devastated, and the cameras feasted on their devastation.

Many critics have said that More To Love is all about humiliating fat women.

What they do not take into account is that most reality television is, ultimately, about humiliating everyone. Where is the dignity in The Bachelor? Survivor? Big Brother?

Although I have reservations about More To Love, in the end I have to say that I believe it levels the playing field just a tiny bit.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog


**Fashion Note :

Unlike MAKEOVER reality shows, More To Love did not dress the women in lookalike dark colored empire dresses. Their gowns ran the color and design spectrum, and some even had--gasp--natural waistlines!

Imitation of Life At The NY Television Reality School

DAHLINGS –



My apologies, I know that you are all wondering why there has not been a recent report from the Bryant Park tents. “Where are you?” some have emailed. “Fashion Week is simply a waste of time without your periscope to gaze at it through.” Flattery will get you everywhere, as the saying goes.



The title is a reference to a movie that starred my dear, dead friend Lana Turner. I've never had the heart to tell her I think it's a terrible remake of the original Claudette Colbert version made in the 1930s. Lana does not take criticism well.



However, if I had a nickel for every time someone said, “Your life should be on television”…I’d be as rich as I am now, which is fabulously rich. In the same spirit of inquiry that brought my ancestors to this country (from what other country I have no idea, dear darling Mama refused to say), I decided to let a friend lead me to the New York Reality Television School.



Yes, you read that correctly. The New York Reality Television School, where hopefuls go to be taught how to relax in front of a battery of cameras, tell their stories in a concise 30 seconds, and pitch television ideas. Since I am quite used to being in front of batteries of cameras, that part held no terror for me. As for telling my story in thirty seconds…well…



The course is taught by a curly-haired whirling dervish Robert Galinsky, who reminded me of no one so much as the Russian poet Lermontov. (Look it up.) He was helped by a battery of reality television stars, such as Jose Bendersky from Animal Planet, some pert little thing from VH1, and (gasp!) a model from “Project Runway”, season four! I shall devote a later entry to our encounter…suffice to say it was fascinating, and I shall have to stop making sport of the models after this.







Not to mention several casting directors, including the handsomely chiseled Robert Russell, and a young woman in a brown dress who claimed that working in reality television helped her promote her feminist agenda. Anything you say, dear, anything you say.



The evening was held in Chelsea in a tiny television studio, where the walls were painted an unnervingly bright shade of green (presumably what they call “green-screen green”). I dressed down for the occasion, in a tailored pants outfit and low heels, but I was still by far the tallest woman in the room. Gazing around, I saw any number of petite, pretty, interchangeable young girls with bright eyes and exposed breasts. “Well,” I told myself, “at least they have some flesh on their bones, even if it is all in their push-up bras.” After days of looking at withered runway models, it was a bit of fresh air.



The men, on the other hand, were far more diverse, ranging from the handsome to the smarmy to the terribly shy, of all heights and shapes. But isn’t that how television is?



We started by doing physical warm-up exercises, followed by dancing, which I found quite enjoyable, even if I did perspire in my silk blouse a tad. During the evening there were lectures by the television pros, but it all seemed to boil down to one essential thing: self-confidence. That, and knowing when to powder your forehead to keep it from shining under the lights.



My self-confidence has never been an issue, but I could see for many of the other students it was a major hurdle. One young man, who wants to be on “American Idol, “ sang in a sweet tenor that earned applause, and the beauteous Queen Esther, a well-known jazz singer, also belted out a number. (In the interest of honest disclosure, Queen Esther has been a customer of mine, buying my smaller dresses.) A tall Irishman, Evan, solemnly recounted his desire to be on “Law and Order,” because he had killed seventeen people already. I do hope he was joking. Later he disclosed he had a lifelong medical condition that needs constant attention, and wanted to do a reality show about his life called “When Irish Eyes Aren’t Smiling.”



When it was my turn, I was told my life sounded too much like a soap opera! Well. Opera, perhaps, GRAND opera, but not soap opera. (I should like to be played by Kiri Te Kanawa in her prime.) However, these people were hardly my peers, so I ignored them.







Robert Galinsky’s brother Philip, an actor with the intensity of Christopher Walken mixed with Robert de Niro, did a section called “On The Grill With Phil,” where luckless contestants had to audition for television programs or be thrown off the stage. One poor woman had a complete meltdown and stormed off the stage. I do hope she gets the professional help she needs. Si vous ne pouvez pas prendre la chaleur, restez hors de la cuisine.



When it was all over, we exhausted students flopped back into our chairs for a Q & A which included several reality show producers, New York Times reporter and author Abby Ellin, author of the book “Teenage Waistland.” Many technical behind-the-scenes secrets about reality television were revealed, all fascinating. To sum up, I had a wonderful time, even if I was largely ignored in favor of the little pretty things. Ah well, as they say, that’s show biz.



However, if you think you have what it takes to star on reality television, be it “Survivor,” “The Apprentice,” or “America’s Top Skittle Player,” do take a look at The New York Reality Television School. It has a proven track record of success, and your faithful correspondent learned a great deal, which I'm not telling...you'll have to go to school for it.

http://www.newyorkrealitytvschool.com/

As for moi, it’s back to the tents, and REAL reality! Or , what passes for it.



Ciao,



Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog



P.S. Q: What is the difference between Sarah Palin and a pit bull?

A: Sarah Palin stands on her hind legs.