There is something pathetic about reality TV and there is something even more pathetic about me writing about reality TV. However, I think that it can be justified in the same way as certain academics justify pro wrestling or some other “thing” that becomes an art form even as it destroys other art forms.
I am speaking specifically about The Bachelor…and it makes me cringe to do so…it’s reality television, which is a misnomer to be sure. If Theatre and scripted TV are the realm of the director, reality tv is the realm of the editor, and these editors concocted a doozy of a story line with all the characters, twists, and turns you’d want out of a scripted evening soap opera…all without paying actors, writers, or royalties…fantastic.
Dude, Jason, you’re forgetting that you are on TV in a sleep deprived state with semi naked women massaging you…of course when that ends you’re going to be bored…the “relationship will lose its luster.” Do you want a wife or a tv deal?
To any students reading, I think I realize now that I am a true Brechtian. Reality TV is the worst kind of Stanislavskian theatre. It pretends to present naturalism, but in truth is presenting realism, fooling the audience (and “cast”) into believing they are watching/participating in “real life” when in reality they are part of a well-crafted story run by puppet masters. Brecht would show the strings, Stanislavski is content to allow the trickery.