by Rachel Krueger
This is what we’re doing now, Universe? It’s not enough that Snooki has a book deal and that the Bieber-fetus has a biopic. We’re giving Courtney Love a reality show now?
Because this show isn’t going to be whatever Courtney thinks this show is going to be (“America’s Next Top Model” meets “American Idol” meets “Rock Band III” where Courtney gets to be Tyra, Simon, AND that guy with the bangs). It’s going to be an extended version of this clip where Courtney comes to pitch her show.
No arguing the gal’s belfry is flooded with bats. But this clip frames her bats, highlights her bats, puts those little neon sticky notes on her bats. Here she is phenomenally early! How amusingly punctual. Here she is laughing uproariously while we edit in some other footage of the lackeys looking blank, because her joke was actually seriously funny and everyone hooted but that undermines the message we want to portray which is BAAAAAAAAAATS.
Oh damn, now she has said something sincere about mentoring girls. Let’s just cut to silence to indicate that that is kooky. Crickets? Too overdone? Just silence then.
Because reality tv is no longer about dumping real people into wacky faux-realities and then sitting back to watch. It’s about exposing them for cowards and harpies and ass-bags. There’s a reason competition shows run their challenges so close together, and it has everything to do with the delicious DRAMA high-stress and no-sleep produces. Or at least the fragments of drama, which can then be stitched together with shrieking violins to make it look like everyone is full of hate-beans. Because not all of those contestants on “The Bachelor” can be lying about the editing making them look bad.
And that is why Courtney’s show is an option now, when she is clearly running wild and her mouth is right there with her, and not in 1998 when her shit was so firmly together. Inspiring stories of struggle and success are for PBS documentaries. Prime time demands disaster, and disaster to the last degree.