Classmate Blog Response – Reality TV FTW
Last week, Jania wrote what I thought was a bit of a strange post about Reality TV. While I agree that resisting the lure of certain shows is difficult (as Jania put it, “Some reality programming is really bad, yet once you’ve watched one episode it’s sometimes difficult not to continue the torture.”), I have a tough time with the notion of separating the genre into good/bad categories.
Let’s be honest: artful, intelligent reality television (or film) is generally called something else–a documentary. Creating a high art/low art distinction between watching Bad Girls Club and the God-loving Duggars out in Arkansas (Officially: 18 Kids and Counting, though Mama Duggar is once again with child) seems difficult to defend. None of these shows can argue for the strength of their writing (as they claim not to be written, something Rock of Love makes a compelling case for), their cinematography, or the quality of their acting (See: every reality show star who has said something to the effect of ”It’s all real. Really real.”) I can’t imagine what basis there is for judging the value of a particular reality tv program beyond personal preference.
So would I call it all bad? Not exactly. I don’t think reality TV is artful, and I don’t think it’s intelligent–but I do think it’s entertaining. It’s like the (ongoing) cultural discussion about pop music: does it matter if it’s “good” if it’s catchy? Can we really call something “bad” if we enjoy it? What’s the role of the guilty pleasure in all this? Or (my least favorite thing ever, as least as it’s currently understood) irony? Personally, I don’t feel at all guilty watching the Real Housewives’ epic meltdown while listening to “My Humps” without the least bit of ironic detachment. I, my friends, am a 21st century Epicurean.
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