Chuck Klosterman On Film And Television Part 1

Chuck Klosterman on Film and Television.

by Chuck Klosterman.

This Is Emo

No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either.

Should I be writing such thoughts? Perhaps not. Perhaps it's a bad idea. I can definitely foresee a scenario where that first paragraph could come back to haunt me, especially if I somehow became marginally famous. If I become marginally famous, I will undoubtedly be interviewed by someone in the media,1 and the interviewer will inevitably ask, "Fifteen years ago, you wrote that no woman could ever satisfy you. Now that you've been married for almost five years, are those words still true?" And I will have to say, "Oh, G.o.d no. Those were the words of an entirely different person-a person whom I can't even relate to anymore. Honestly, I can't image an existence without _____. She satisfies me in ways that I never even considered. She saved my life, really." and the interviewer will inevitably ask, "Fifteen years ago, you wrote that no woman could ever satisfy you. Now that you've been married for almost five years, are those words still true?" And I will have to say, "Oh, G.o.d no. Those were the words of an entirely different person-a person whom I can't even relate to anymore. Honestly, I can't image an existence without _____. She satisfies me in ways that I never even considered. She saved my life, really."

Now, I will be lying. I won't really feel that way. But I'll certainly say say those words, and I'll deliver them with the utmost sincerity, even though those sentiments will not be there. So then the interviewer will undoubtedly quote lines from those words, and I'll deliver them with the utmost sincerity, even though those sentiments will not be there. So then the interviewer will undoubtedly quote lines from this this particular paragraph, thereby reminding me that I swore I would publicly deny my true feelings, and I'll chuckle and say, "Come on, Mr. Rose. That was a literary device. You know I never really believed that." particular paragraph, thereby reminding me that I swore I would publicly deny my true feelings, and I'll chuckle and say, "Come on, Mr. Rose. That was a literary device. You know I never really believed that."

But here's the thing: I do do believe that. It's the truth now, and it will be in the future. And while I'm not exactly happy about that truth, it doesn't make me sad, either. I know it's not my fault. believe that. It's the truth now, and it will be in the future. And while I'm not exactly happy about that truth, it doesn't make me sad, either. I know it's not my fault.

It's no one's fault, really. Or maybe it's everyone's fault. It 1 should be everyone's fault, because it's everyone's problem. Well, okay... not everyone everyone. Not boring people, and not the profoundly r.e.t.a.r.ded. But whenever I meet dynamic, nonr.e.t.a.r.ded Americans, I notice that they all seem to share a single unifying characteristic: the inability to experience the kind of mind-blowing, transcendent romantic relations.h.i.+p they perceive to be a normal part of living. And someone needs to take the fall for this. So instead of blaming no one for this (which is kind of cowardly) or blaming everyone (which is kind of meaningless), I'm going to blame John Cusack.

I once loved a girl who almost loved me, but not as much as she loved John Cusack. Under certain circ.u.mstances, this would have been fine; Cusack is relatively good-looking, he seems like a pretty cool guy (he likes the Clash and the Who, at least), and he undoubtedly has millions of bones in the bank. If Cusack and I were competing for the same woman, I could easily accept losing. However, I don't really feel like John and I were "competing" for the girl I'm referring to, inasmuch as her relations.h.i.+p to Cusack was confined to watching him as a two-dimensional projection, pretending to be characters who don't actually exist. Now, there was a time when I would have thought that detachment would have given me a huge advantage over Johnny C., inasmuch as my my relations.h.i.+p with this woman included things like "talking on the phone" and "nuzzling under umbrellas" and "eating pancakes." However, I have come to realize that I perceived this compet.i.tion completely backward; it was definitely an unfair battle, but not in my favor. It was unfair in Cusack's favor. I never had a chance. relations.h.i.+p with this woman included things like "talking on the phone" and "nuzzling under umbrellas" and "eating pancakes." However, I have come to realize that I perceived this compet.i.tion completely backward; it was definitely an unfair battle, but not in my favor. It was unfair in Cusack's favor. I never had a chance.

It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box-office star in America, because every straight girl I know would sell her soul to share a milkshake with that motherf.u.c.ker. For upwardly mobile women in their twenties and thirties, John Cusack is the neo-Elvis. But here's what none of these upwardly mobile women seem to realize: They don't love John Cusack. They love Lloyd Dobler. When they see Mr. Cusack, they are still seeing the optimistic, charmingly loquacious teenager he played in Say Anything, Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago. That's the guy they think he is; when Cusack played Eddie Thomas in a movie that came out more than a decade ago. That's the guy they think he is; when Cusack played Eddie Thomas in America's Sweethearts America's Sweethearts or the sensitive hit man in or the sensitive hit man in Grosse Pointe Blank, Grosse Pointe Blank, all his female fans knew he was only acting... but they a.s.sume when the camera stopped rolling, he went back to his genuine self... which was someone like Lloyd Dobler... which was, in fact, someone who all his female fans knew he was only acting... but they a.s.sume when the camera stopped rolling, he went back to his genuine self... which was someone like Lloyd Dobler... which was, in fact, someone who is is Lloyd Dobler, and someone who continues to have a storybook romance with Diane Court (or with Ione Skye, depending on how you look at it). And these upwardly mobile women are not alone. We all convince ourselves of things like this-not necessarily about Lloyd Dobler, and someone who continues to have a storybook romance with Diane Court (or with Ione Skye, depending on how you look at it). And these upwardly mobile women are not alone. We all convince ourselves of things like this-not necessarily about Say Anything, Say Anything, but about any fictionalized portrayals of romance that happen to hit us in the right place, at the right time. This is why I will never be completely satisfied by a woman, and this is why the kind of woman I tend to find attractive will never be satisfied by me. We will both measure our relations.h.i.+p against the prospect of fake love. but about any fictionalized portrayals of romance that happen to hit us in the right place, at the right time. This is why I will never be completely satisfied by a woman, and this is why the kind of woman I tend to find attractive will never be satisfied by me. We will both measure our relations.h.i.+p against the prospect of fake love.

Fake love is a very powerful thing. That girl who adored John Cusack once had the opportunity to spend a weekend with me in New York at the Waldorf-Astoria, but she elected to fly to Portland instead to see the first U.S. appearance by Coldplay, a British pop group whose success derives from their ability to write melodramatic alt-rock songs about fake love. It does not matter that Coldplay is absolutely the s.h.i.+ttiest f.u.c.king band I've ever heard in my entire f.u.c.king life, or that they sound like a mediocre photocopy of Travis (who sound like a mediocre photocopy of Radiohead), or that their greatest f.u.c.king artistic achievement is a video where their blandly attractive frontman walks on a beach on a cloudy f.u.c.king afternoon. None of that matters. What matters is that Coldplay manufactures fake love as frenetically as the Ford f.u.c.king Motor Company manufactures Mustangs, and that's all this woman heard. "For you I bleed myself dry," sang their blockhead vocalist, brilliantly informing us that stars in the sky are, in fact, yellow. How am I going to compete with that s.h.i.+t? That sleepy-eyed bozo isn't even making sense. He's just pouring fabricated emotions over four gloomy guitar chords, and it ends up sounding like love. And what does that mean? It means she flies to f.u.c.king Portland to hear two hours of amateurish U.K. hyperslop, and I sleep alone in a $270 hotel in Manhattan, and I hope Coldplay gets f.u.c.king dropped by f.u.c.king EMI and ends up like the Stone f.u.c.king Roses, who were actually a better f.u.c.king band, all things considered.

Not that I'm bitter about this. Oh, I concede that I may be taking this particular example somewhat personally-but I do think it's a perfect ill.u.s.tration of why almost everyone I know is either overtly or covertly unhappy. Coldplay songs deliver an amorphous, irrefutable interpretation of how being in love is supposed to feel, and people find themselves wanting that feeling for real. They want men to adore them like Lloyd Dobler would, and they want women to think like Aimee Mann, and they expect all their arguments to sound like Sam Malone and Diane Chambers. They think everything will work out perfectly in the end (just like it did for Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones and Nick Hornby's Rob Fleming), and they don't stop believing, because Journey's Steve Perry insists we should never do that. In the nineteenth century, teenagers merely aspired to have a marriage that would be better than that of their parents; personally, I would never be satisfied unless my marriage was as good as Cliff and Clair Huxtable's (or at least as enigmatic as Jack and Meg White's).

Pundits are always blaming TV for making people stupid, movies for desensitizing the world to violence, and rock music for making kids take drugs and kill themselves. These things should be the least of our worries. The main problem with ma.s.s media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any ac.u.men of normalcy. There is no "normal," because everybody is being twisted by the same sources simultaneously. You can't compare your relations.h.i.+p with the playful couple who lives next door, because they're probably modeling themselves after Chandler Bing and Monica Geller. Real people are actively trying to live like fake people, so real people are no less fake. Every comparison becomes impractical. This is why the impractical has become totally acceptable; impracticality almost seems cool. The best relations.h.i.+p I ever had was with a journalist who was as crazy as me, and some of our coworkers liked to compare us to Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen. At the time, I used to think, "Yeah, that's completely valid: We fight all the time, our love is self-destructive, and-if she was mysteriously killed-I'm sure I'd be wrongly arrested for second-degree murder before dying from an overdose." We even watched Sid & Nancy Sid & Nancy in her parents' bas.e.m.e.nt and giggled the whole time. "That's us," we said gleefully. And like I said-this was the in her parents' bas.e.m.e.nt and giggled the whole time. "That's us," we said gleefully. And like I said-this was the best best relations.h.i.+p I ever had. And I suspect it was the best one she ever had, too. relations.h.i.+p I ever had. And I suspect it was the best one she ever had, too.

Of course, this media transference is not all bad. It has certainly worked to my advantage, just as it has for all modern men who look and talk and act like me. We all owe our lives to Woody Allen. If Woody Allen had never been born, I'm sure I would be doomed to a life of celibacy. Remember the aforementioned woman who loved Cusack and Coldplay? There is absolutely no way I could have dated this person if Woody Allen didn't exist. In tangible terms, she was light-years out of my league, along with most of the other women I've slept with. But Woody Allen changed everything. Woody Allen made it acceptable for beautiful women to sleep with nerdy, bespectacled goofb.a.l.l.s; all we need to do is fabricate the illusion of intellectual humor, and we somehow have a chance. The irony is that many of the women most susceptible to this scam haven't even seen seen any of Woody's movies, nor would they want to touch the actual Woody Allen if they ever had the chance (especially since he's proven to be an any of Woody's movies, nor would they want to touch the actual Woody Allen if they ever had the chance (especially since he's proven to be an uber uber-pervy clarinet freak). If asked, most of these foxy ladies wouldn't cla.s.sify Woody Allen as s.e.xy, or handsome, or even likable. But this is how media devolution works: It creates an archetype that eventually dwarfs its origin. By now, the "Woody Allen Personality Type" has far greater cultural importance than the man himself.

Now, the argument could be made that all this is good for the s.e.xual bloodstream of Americana, and that all these Women Who Want Woody are being unconsciously conditioned to be less shallow than their sociobiology dictates. Self-deprecating cleverness has become a virtue. At least on the surface, movies and television actively promote dating the nonbeautiful: If we have learned anything from the ma.s.s media, it's that the only people who can make us happy are those who don't strike us as being particularly desirable. Whether it's Jerry Maguire Jerry Maguire or or Sixteen Candles Sixteen Candles or or Who's the Boss Who's the Boss or or Some Kind of Wonderful Some Kind of Wonderful or or Speed Racer, Speed Racer, we are constantly reminded that the unattainable icons of perfection we l.u.s.t after can never fulfill us like the platonic allies who have been there all along. we are constantly reminded that the unattainable icons of perfection we l.u.s.t after can never fulfill us like the platonic allies who have been there all along.2 If we all took media messages at their absolute face value, we'd all be sleeping with our best friends. And that does happen, sometimes. If we all took media messages at their absolute face value, we'd all be sleeping with our best friends. And that does happen, sometimes.3 But herein lies the trap: We've also been trained to think this will But herein lies the trap: We've also been trained to think this will always always work out over the long term, which dooms us to disappointment. Because when push comes to shove, we really work out over the long term, which dooms us to disappointment. Because when push comes to shove, we really don't don't want to have s.e.x with our friends... unless they're s.e.xy. And sometimes we want to have s.e.x with our friends... unless they're s.e.xy. And sometimes we do do want to have s.e.x with our blackhearted, soul-sucking enemies... a.s.suming want to have s.e.x with our blackhearted, soul-sucking enemies... a.s.suming they're they're s.e.xy. Because that's all it ever comes down to in real life, regardless of what happened to Michael J. Fox in s.e.xy. Because that's all it ever comes down to in real life, regardless of what happened to Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf Teen Wolf.

The ma.s.s media causes s.e.xual misdirection: It prompts us to need need something deeper than what we something deeper than what we want want. This is why Woody Allen has made nebbish guys cool; he makes people a.s.sume there is something profound about having a relations.h.i.+p based on witty conversation and intellectual discourse. There isn't. It's just another gimmick, and it's no different than wanting to be with someone because they're thin or rich or the former lead singer of Whiskeytown. And it actually might be worse, because an intellectual relations.h.i.+p isn't real at all at all. My witty banter and cerebral discourse is always completely contrived. Right now, I have three and a half dates worth of material, all of which I pretend to deliver spontaneously.4 This is my strategy: If I can just coerce women into the last half of that fourth date, it's anyone's ball game. I've beaten the system; I've broken the code; I've slain the Minotaur. If we part ways on that fourth evening without some kind of conversational disaster, she probably digs me. Or at least she This is my strategy: If I can just coerce women into the last half of that fourth date, it's anyone's ball game. I've beaten the system; I've broken the code; I've slain the Minotaur. If we part ways on that fourth evening without some kind of conversational disaster, she probably digs me. Or at least she thinks thinks she digs me, because who she digs is not really me. Sadly, our relations.h.i.+p will not last ninety-three minutes (like she digs me, because who she digs is not really me. Sadly, our relations.h.i.+p will not last ninety-three minutes (like Annie Hall Annie Hall) or ninety-six minutes (like Manhattan Manhattan). It will go on for days or weeks or months or years, and I've already used everything in my vault. Very soon, I will have nothing more to say, and we will be sitting across from each other at breakfast, completely devoid of banter; she will feel betrayed and foolish, and I will suddenly find myself actively trying to avoid spending time with a woman I didn't deserve to be with in the first place.

Perhaps this sounds depressing. That is not my intention. This is all normal. There's not a lot to say during breakfast. I mean, you just woke up, you know? Nothing has happened. If neither person had an especially weird dream and n.o.body burned the toast, breakfast is just the time for chewing Cocoa Puffs and/or wis.h.i.+ng you were still asleep. But we've been convinced not to think like that. Silence is only supposed to happen as a manifestation of supreme actualization, where both parties are so at peace with their emotional connection that it cannot be expressed through the rudimentary tools of the lexicon; otherwise, silence is proof that the magic is gone and the relations.h.i.+p is over (hence the phrase "We just don't talk anymore"). For those of us who grew up in the media age, the only good silence is the kind described by the hair metal band Extreme. "More than words is all I ever needed you to show," explained Gary Cherone on the p.o.r.nograffiti p.o.r.nograffiti alb.u.m. "Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me, cause I'd already know." This is the difference between art and life: In art, not talking is never an extension of having nothing to say; not talking always means something. And now that art and life have become completely interchangeable, we're forced to live inside the acoustic power chords of Nuno Bettencourt, even if most of us don't necessarily know who the f.u.c.k Nuno Bettencourt is. alb.u.m. "Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me, cause I'd already know." This is the difference between art and life: In art, not talking is never an extension of having nothing to say; not talking always means something. And now that art and life have become completely interchangeable, we're forced to live inside the acoustic power chords of Nuno Bettencourt, even if most of us don't necessarily know who the f.u.c.k Nuno Bettencourt is.

When Harry Met Sally hit theaters in 1989. I didn't see it until 1997, but it turns out I could have skipped it entirely. The movie itself isn't bad (which is pretty amazing, since it stars Meg Ryan hit theaters in 1989. I didn't see it until 1997, but it turns out I could have skipped it entirely. The movie itself isn't bad (which is pretty amazing, since it stars Meg Ryan and and Billy Crystal), and there are funny parts and sweet parts and smart dialogue, and-all things considered-it's a well-executed example of a certain kind of entertainment. Billy Crystal), and there are funny parts and sweet parts and smart dialogue, and-all things considered-it's a well-executed example of a certain kind of entertainment.5 Yet watching this film in 1997 was like watching the 1978 one-game playoff between the Yankees and the Red Sox on Yet watching this film in 1997 was like watching the 1978 one-game playoff between the Yankees and the Red Sox on ESPN Cla.s.sic ESPN Cla.s.sic: Though I've never sat through the pitch sequence that leads to Bucky Dent's three-run homer, I know exactly what happened. I feel like I remember it, even though I don't. And-more important-I know what it all means. Knowing about sports means knowing that Bucky Dent is the living, breathing, metaphorical incarnation of the Bo Sox's undying futility; I didn't have to see that game to understand the fabric of its existence. I didn't need to see When Harry Met Sally, When Harry Met Sally, either. Within three years of its initial release, cla.s.sifying any intense friends.h.i.+p as "totally a either. Within three years of its initial release, cla.s.sifying any intense friends.h.i.+p as "totally a Harry-Met-Sally Harry-Met-Sally situation" had a recognizable meaning to everyone, regardless of whether or not they'd actually seen the movie. And that meaning remains clear and remarkably consistent: It implies that two platonic acquaintances are refusing to admit that they're deeply in love with each other. situation" had a recognizable meaning to everyone, regardless of whether or not they'd actually seen the movie. And that meaning remains clear and remarkably consistent: It implies that two platonic acquaintances are refusing to admit that they're deeply in love with each other. When Harry Met Sally When Harry Met Sally cemented the plausibility of that notion, and it gave a lot of desperate people hope. It made it realistic to suspect your best friend may be your soul mate, and it made wanting such a scenario comfortably conventional. The problem is that the cemented the plausibility of that notion, and it gave a lot of desperate people hope. It made it realistic to suspect your best friend may be your soul mate, and it made wanting such a scenario comfortably conventional. The problem is that the Harry-Met-Sally Harry-Met-Sally situation is almost always tragically unbalanced. Most of the time, the two involved parties are not really "best friends." Inevitably, one of the people has been in love with the other from the first day they met, while the other person is either (a) wracked with guilt and pressure, or (b) completely oblivious to the espoused attraction. Every relations.h.i.+p is fundamentally a power struggle, and the individual in power is whoever likes the other person less. But situation is almost always tragically unbalanced. Most of the time, the two involved parties are not really "best friends." Inevitably, one of the people has been in love with the other from the first day they met, while the other person is either (a) wracked with guilt and pressure, or (b) completely oblivious to the espoused attraction. Every relations.h.i.+p is fundamentally a power struggle, and the individual in power is whoever likes the other person less. But When Harry Met Sally When Harry Met Sally gives the powerless, unrequited lover a reason to live. When this person gets drunk and tells his friends that he's in love with a woman who only sees him as a buddy, they will say, "You're wrong. You're perfect for each other. This is just like gives the powerless, unrequited lover a reason to live. When this person gets drunk and tells his friends that he's in love with a woman who only sees him as a buddy, they will say, "You're wrong. You're perfect for each other. This is just like When Harry Met Sally When Harry Met Sally! I'm sure she loves you-she just doesn't realize it yet." Nora Ephron accidentally ruined a lot of lives.

I remember taking a course in college called "Communication and Society," and my professor was obsessed by the belief that fairy tales like "Hansel and Gretel" and "Little Red Riding Hood" were evil. She said they were part of a latent social code that hoped to suppress women and minorities. At the time, I was mildly outraged that my tuition money was supporting this kind of c.r.a.p; years later, I have come to recall those pseudo-savvy lectures as what I loved loved about college. But I still think they were probably wasteful, and here's why: Even if those theories are true, they're barely significant. "The Three Little Pigs" is not the story that is f.u.c.king people up. Stories like about college. But I still think they were probably wasteful, and here's why: Even if those theories are true, they're barely significant. "The Three Little Pigs" is not the story that is f.u.c.king people up. Stories like Say Anything Say Anything are f.u.c.king people up. We don't need to worry about people unconsciously "absorbing" archaic secret messages when they're six years old; we need to worry about all the entertaining messages people are consciously accepting when they're twenty-six. They're the ones that get us, because they're the ones we try to turn into life. I mean, Christ: I wish I could believe that bozo in Coldplay when he tells me that stars are yellow. I miss that girl. I wish I was Lloyd Dobler. I don't want anybody to step on a piece of broken gla.s.s. I want fake love. But that's all I want, and that's why I can't have it. are f.u.c.king people up. We don't need to worry about people unconsciously "absorbing" archaic secret messages when they're six years old; we need to worry about all the entertaining messages people are consciously accepting when they're twenty-six. They're the ones that get us, because they're the ones we try to turn into life. I mean, Christ: I wish I could believe that bozo in Coldplay when he tells me that stars are yellow. I miss that girl. I wish I was Lloyd Dobler. I don't want anybody to step on a piece of broken gla.s.s. I want fake love. But that's all I want, and that's why I can't have it.

1. Hopefully Charlie Rose, if he's still alive.

2. The notable exceptions being Vertigo Vertigo (where the softhearted Barbara Bel Geddes gets jammed by s.e.xpot Kim Novak) and (where the softhearted Barbara Bel Geddes gets jammed by s.e.xpot Kim Novak) and My So-Called Life My So-Called Life (where poor Brian Krakow never got any play, even though Jordan Catalano couldn't f.u.c.king read). (where poor Brian Krakow never got any play, even though Jordan Catalano couldn't f.u.c.king read).

3. "Sometimes" meaning "during college."

4. Here's one example I tend to deploy on second dates, and it's rewarded with an endearing guffaw at least 90 percent of the time: I ask the woman what religion she is. Inevitably, she will say something like, "Oh, I'm sort of Catholic, but I'm pretty lapsed in my partic.i.p.ation," or "Oh, I'm kind of Jewish, but I don't really practice anymore." Virtually everyone under the age of thirty will answer that question in this manner. I then respond by saying, "Yeah, it seems like everybody I meet describes themselves as 'sort of Catholic' or 'sort of Jewish' or 'sort of Methodist.' Do you think all religions have this problem? I mean, do you think there are twenty-five-year-old Amish people who say, 'Well, I'm sort of sort of Amish. I currently work as a computer programmer, but I still believe pants with metal zippers are the work of Satan.'" Amish. I currently work as a computer programmer, but I still believe pants with metal zippers are the work of Satan.'"

5. "A certain kind" meaning "bad."

What Happens When People Stop Being Polite

Even before Eric Nies came into my life, I was having a pretty good 1992.

I wasn't doing anything of consequence that summer, but-at least retrospectively-nothingness always seems to facilitate the best periods of my life. I suppose I was ostensibly going to summer school, sort of; I had signed up for three summer cla.s.ses at the University of North Dakota in order to qualify for the maximum amount of financial aid, but then I dropped two of the cla.s.ses the same day I got my check. I suppose I was also employed, sort of; I had a work-study job in the campus "geography library," which was really just a room with a high ceiling, filled with maps no one ever used. For some reason, it was my job to count these maps for three hours a day (I was, however, allowed to listen to cla.s.sic-rock radio). But most importantly, I was living in an apartment with a guy who spent all night locked in his bedroom writing a novel he was unironically t.i.tling Bits of Reality, Bits of Reality, which I think was a modern retelling of which I think was a modern retelling of Oedipus Rex Oedipus Rex. He slept during the afternoon and mostly subsisted on raw hot dogs. I think his girlfriend paid the rent for both of us.

Now, this dude who ate the hot dogs... he was an excellent roommate. He didn't care about anything remotely practical. When two people live together, there's typically an unconscious Odd Couple Odd Couple relations.h.i.+p: There's always one fastidious guy who keeps life organized, and there's always one chaotic guy who makes life wacky and interesting. Somehow, the hot dog eater and I both fit into the latter category. In our lives, there was no Tony Randall. We would sit in the living room, drink a case of Busch beer, and throw the empty cans into the kitchen for no reason whatsoever, beyond the fact that it was the most overtly irresponsible way for any two people to live. We would consciously choose to put out cigarettes on the carpet when ashtrays were readily available; we would write phone messages on the walls; we would vomit out the window. And this was a bas.e.m.e.nt apartment. relations.h.i.+p: There's always one fastidious guy who keeps life organized, and there's always one chaotic guy who makes life wacky and interesting. Somehow, the hot dog eater and I both fit into the latter category. In our lives, there was no Tony Randall. We would sit in the living room, drink a case of Busch beer, and throw the empty cans into the kitchen for no reason whatsoever, beyond the fact that it was the most overtly irresponsible way for any two people to live. We would consciously choose to put out cigarettes on the carpet when ashtrays were readily available; we would write phone messages on the walls; we would vomit out the window. And this was a bas.e.m.e.nt apartment.

Obviously, we rarely argued about the living conditions.

We did, however, argue about everything else. Constantly. We'd argue about H. Ross Perot's chances in the upcoming presidential election, and we'd argue about whether there were fewer Jews in the NBA than logic should dictate. We argued about the merits of dog racing, dogfighting, c.o.c.kfighting, affirmative action, legalized prost.i.tution, the properties of ice, chaos theory, and whether or not water had a discernible flavor. We argued about how difficult it would be to ride a bear, a.s.suming said bear was muzzled. We argued about partial-birth abortion, and we argued about the possibility of Trent Reznor committing suicide and/or being gay. We once got into a vicious argument over whether or not I had actually read all of an aggrandizing Guns N' Roses biography within the scope of a single day, an achievement my hot doggorged roommate claimed was impossible (that particular debate extended for all of July). Mostly, we argued about which of us was better at arguing, and particularly about who had won the previous argument.

Perhaps this is why we were both enraptured by that summer's debut of MTV's The Real World, The Real World, an artistic product that mostly seemed like a TV show about people arguing. And these people were an artistic product that mostly seemed like a TV show about people arguing. And these people were terrible terrible arguers; the seven cast members thrown into that New York loft always made ill-conceived points and got unjustifiably emotional, and they all seemed to take everything much too personally. But the raw hot dog eater and I watched these people argue all summer long, and then we watched them argue again in the summer of 1993, and then again in the summer of 1994. Technically, these people were completely different every year, but they were also exactly the same. And pretty soon it became clear that the producers of arguers; the seven cast members thrown into that New York loft always made ill-conceived points and got unjustifiably emotional, and they all seemed to take everything much too personally. But the raw hot dog eater and I watched these people argue all summer long, and then we watched them argue again in the summer of 1993, and then again in the summer of 1994. Technically, these people were completely different every year, but they were also exactly the same. And pretty soon it became clear that the producers of The Real World The Real World weren't sampling the youth of America-they were unintentionally creating it. By now, everyone I know is one of seven defined strangers, inevitably hoping to represent a predefined demographic and always failing horribly. weren't sampling the youth of America-they were unintentionally creating it. By now, everyone I know is one of seven defined strangers, inevitably hoping to represent a predefined demographic and always failing horribly. The Real World The Real World is the real world is is the real world is The Real World The Real World is the real world. It's the same true story, even when it isn't. is the real world. It's the same true story, even when it isn't.

I tend to consider myself an amateur Real World Real World scholar. I say "amateur" because I've done no actual university study on this subject, but I still say "scholar" because I've stopped watching the show as entertainment. At this point, I only watch it in hopes of unlocking the questions that have haunted man since the dawn of civilization. I've seen every episode of every season, and I've seen them all a minimum of three times. This, of course, is the key to appreciating scholar. I say "amateur" because I've done no actual university study on this subject, but I still say "scholar" because I've stopped watching the show as entertainment. At this point, I only watch it in hopes of unlocking the questions that have haunted man since the dawn of civilization. I've seen every episode of every season, and I've seen them all a minimum of three times. This, of course, is the key to appreciating The Real World The Real World (and the rest of MTV's programming): repet.i.tion. To really get it, you have to watch MTV so much that you know things you never tried to remember. You can't try to deduce the day-to-day habits of Jon Brennan (he was the cowboy dude) from (and the rest of MTV's programming): repet.i.tion. To really get it, you have to watch MTV so much that you know things you never tried to remember. You can't try to deduce the day-to-day habits of Jon Brennan (he was the cowboy dude) from RW 2: Los Angeles RW 2: Los Angeles. That would be ridiculous. You can't consciously try to figure out what he likes and what he hates and how he lives; these are things you have to know without trying. You just have to "know" he constantly drinks cherry Kool-Aid. But you can't try to learn learn that, because that would make you a weirdo. This kind of knowledge is like a vivid dream you suddenly pull out of the cosmic ether, eight hours after waking up. If someone asks you when Montana from that, because that would make you a weirdo. This kind of knowledge is like a vivid dream you suddenly pull out of the cosmic ether, eight hours after waking up. If someone asks you when Montana from RW 6: Boston RW 6: Boston exposed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, you just sort of vaguely recall it was on a boat; if someone asks you who the effeminate black guy from Seattle slapped in the face, you inexplicably know it was the chick with Lyme disease. Yet these are not bits of information you actively acquired; these are things picked up the same way you sussed out how to get around on the subway, or the way you figured out how to properly mix b.l.o.o.d.y Marys. One day, you just suddenly realize it's something you know. And-somehow-there's a cold logic to it. It's an extension of your own life, even though you never tried to make it that way. exposed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, you just sort of vaguely recall it was on a boat; if someone asks you who the effeminate black guy from Seattle slapped in the face, you inexplicably know it was the chick with Lyme disease. Yet these are not bits of information you actively acquired; these are things picked up the same way you sussed out how to get around on the subway, or the way you figured out how to properly mix b.l.o.o.d.y Marys. One day, you just suddenly realize it's something you know. And-somehow-there's a cold logic to it. It's an extension of your own life, even though you never tried to make it that way.

In 1992, The Real World The Real World was supposed to be that kind of calculated accident; it was theoretically created as a seamless extension of reality. But somewhere that relations.h.i.+p became reversed; theory was replaced by practice. During that first was supposed to be that kind of calculated accident; it was theoretically created as a seamless extension of reality. But somewhere that relations.h.i.+p became reversed; theory was replaced by practice. During that first RW RW summer, I saw kids on MTV who reminded me of people I knew in real life. By 1997, the opposite was starting to happen; I kept meeting new people who were like old summer, I saw kids on MTV who reminded me of people I knew in real life. By 1997, the opposite was starting to happen; I kept meeting new people who were like old Real World Real World characters. I've met at least six Pucks in the past five years. This doesn't mean they necessarily talk about snot or eat peanut b.u.t.ter with their hands; what it means is they play The Puck Role. In any given situation, they will provide The Puck Perspective, and they will force those around them to Confront The Puck Paradigm. If nothing else, characters. I've met at least six Pucks in the past five years. This doesn't mean they necessarily talk about snot or eat peanut b.u.t.ter with their hands; what it means is they play The Puck Role. In any given situation, they will provide The Puck Perspective, and they will force those around them to Confront The Puck Paradigm. If nothing else, The Real World The Real World has provided avenues for world views that are both specialized and universal, and it has particularly validated world views that are patently unreasonable. has provided avenues for world views that are both specialized and universal, and it has particularly validated world views that are patently unreasonable.

Part of me is hesitant to write about cast members from The Real World The Real World in any specific sense, because I realize few Americans have studied (or even seen) all twelve seasons of the show. You hear a lot of people say things like they watched most of the first two seasons, or that they watched every season up until Miami, or that they never started watching until the San Francisco season, or that they've only seen bits and pieces of the last three years and tend to get the casts mixed up. For most normal TV watchers, in any specific sense, because I realize few Americans have studied (or even seen) all twelve seasons of the show. You hear a lot of people say things like they watched most of the first two seasons, or that they watched every season up until Miami, or that they never started watching until the San Francisco season, or that they've only seen bits and pieces of the last three years and tend to get the casts mixed up. For most normal TV watchers, The Real World The Real World is an obsession that fades at roughly the same rate as denim. I've noticed that much of the program's original 1992 audience gets especially bored whenever a modern cast starts to talk like teenage aliens. is an obsession that fades at roughly the same rate as denim. I've noticed that much of the program's original 1992 audience gets especially bored whenever a modern cast starts to talk like teenage aliens.1 Last year, an old friend told me she's grown to hate the Last year, an old friend told me she's grown to hate the Real World Real World because, "MTV used to pick people for that show who I could relate to. Now they just have these stupid little kids who act like selfish twits." This was said by a woman-now a responsible twenty-nine-year-old software specialist-who once threw a drink into the face of her college roommate for reasons that could never be explained. It's hard for most people to hang with a show that so deeply bathes in a fountain of youth. because, "MTV used to pick people for that show who I could relate to. Now they just have these stupid little kids who act like selfish twits." This was said by a woman-now a responsible twenty-nine-year-old software specialist-who once threw a drink into the face of her college roommate for reasons that could never be explained. It's hard for most people to hang with a show that so deeply bathes in a fountain of youth.

However, another part of me realizes there's no risk whatsoever in pointing out specific RW RW cast members, even to people who've never seen the show once: You don't need to know the people I'm talking about, because cast members, even to people who've never seen the show once: You don't need to know the people I'm talking about, because you know the people I'm talking about you know the people I'm talking about. And I don't mean you know them in the ham-fisted way MTV casts them (i.e., "The Angry Black Militant"2 or "The Gay One" or "The Gay One"3 or "The Naive Virginal Southerner Who's Vaguely Foxy" or "The Naive Virginal Southerner Who's Vaguely Foxy"4). When I say "you know these people," it's because the personalities on The Real World The Real World have become the only available personalities for everyone who's (a) alive and (b) under the age of twenty-nine. have become the only available personalities for everyone who's (a) alive and (b) under the age of twenty-nine.

Our cultural preparation for a Real World Real World universe actually started in movie theaters during the eighties, particularly with two films that both came out in 1985: universe actually started in movie theaters during the eighties, particularly with two films that both came out in 1985: The Breakfast Club The Breakfast Club and and St. Elmo's Fire St. Elmo's Fire. These seminal portraits were what The Real World The Real World was supposed to be like, a.s.suming MTV could find nonfictional people who would have interesting conversations on a semiregular basis. Like most was supposed to be like, a.s.suming MTV could find nonfictional people who would have interesting conversations on a semiregular basis. Like most RW RW casts, casts, The Breakfast Club The Breakfast Club broke teen culture into five segments that were laughably stereotypical (and-just in case you somehow missed what they were-Anthony Michael Hall pedantically explains it all in the closing scene). broke teen culture into five segments that were laughably stereotypical (and-just in case you somehow missed what they were-Anthony Michael Hall pedantically explains it all in the closing scene). St. Elmo's Fire St. Elmo's Fire used many of the same actors, but it evolved their personalities by five years and made them more (ahem) "philosophically complex." Here is where we see the true genesis of future used many of the same actors, but it evolved their personalities by five years and made them more (ahem) "philosophically complex." Here is where we see the true genesis of future Real World Real Worldians. With Judd Nelson, we have the respected social climber doomed to fail ethically;5 with Andrew McCarthy, the sensitive, self-absorbed guy who works hard at being bitter. with Andrew McCarthy, the sensitive, self-absorbed guy who works hard at being bitter.6 Rob Lowe is the self-destructive guy we're somehow supposed to envy; Rob Lowe is the self-destructive guy we're somehow supposed to envy;7 Emilio Estevez is the romantic that all chumps are supposed to identify with, mostly because he's obsessed with his own obviousness. Emilio Estevez is the romantic that all chumps are supposed to identify with, mostly because he's obsessed with his own obviousness.8 Demi Moore is f.u.c.ked up and pathetic, Demi Moore is f.u.c.ked up and pathetic,9 but Mare Winningham is even more pathetic because she but Mare Winningham is even more pathetic because she aspires aspires to be f.u.c.ked up. to be f.u.c.ked up.10 Ally Sheedy is too normal to have these friends Ally Sheedy is too normal to have these friends11 (or, I suppose, to be in this particular movie). (or, I suppose, to be in this particular movie).

If we were to combine these two films-in other words, if we were to throw the St. Elmo's St. Elmo's kids into all-day Sat.u.r.day detention-we'd have a pretty good kids into all-day Sat.u.r.day detention-we'd have a pretty good Real World Real World. It's been noted that one of the keys to Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k's success as a filmmaker was that he didn't draw characters as much as he drew character types types; this is how he normalized the cinematic experience. It's the same way with The Real World The Real World. The show succeeds because it edits malleable personalities into flat, twenty-something archetypes. What interests me is the way those archetypes so quickly became the normal way for people of my generation to behave.

It's become popular for Real World Real World revisionists to claim that the first season was the only truly transcendent revisionists to claim that the first season was the only truly transcendent RW, RW, the argument being that this was the singular year its cast members actually acted "real." In a broad sense, that's accurate: Since that first the argument being that this was the singular year its cast members actually acted "real." In a broad sense, that's accurate: Since that first Real World Real World was entirely new, no one knew what it was going to look like (or how it would be received). n.o.body in the original New York loft was able to formulate an agenda was entirely new, no one knew what it was going to look like (or how it would be received). n.o.body in the original New York loft was able to formulate an agenda on purpose on purpose. Logically, this should make for great television. In practice, it doesn't translate: In truth, RW 1 RW 1 is mostly dull. It was fascinating in 1992 because of the novelty, but it doesn't stand up over time. is mostly dull. It was fascinating in 1992 because of the novelty, but it doesn't stand up over time.

I'll concede that the cast on the first Real World Real World were the only ones who didn't constantly play to the camera; only hunky model Eric Nies did so on an episode-to-episode basis, but one gets the impression this was just his normal behavior. While the actual filming was taking place, I have no doubt the seven loft-dwellers were clueless about what the final product would look like on television; that certainly fostered the possibility for spontaneous "reality," and there are glimpses of that throughout were the only ones who didn't constantly play to the camera; only hunky model Eric Nies did so on an episode-to-episode basis, but one gets the impression this was just his normal behavior. While the actual filming was taking place, I have no doubt the seven loft-dwellers were clueless about what the final product would look like on television; that certainly fostered the possibility for spontaneous "reality," and there are glimpses of that throughout RW 1 RW 1. The problem is that hard reality tends to be static: On paper, the conversations from that virgin Real World Real World would make for a terrible script. In fact, the greatest moments from the first would make for a terrible script. In fact, the greatest moments from the first Real World Real World are when nothing is going on are when nothing is going on at all at all-the awkwardness becomes transfixing, not unlike the sensation of sitting in an airport and watching someone read a newspaper. Yet if every cast of The Real World The Real World has been as "real" as that first New York ensemble, the show would have only lasted two seasons. has been as "real" as that first New York ensemble, the show would have only lasted two seasons.

Ironically, the reason RW RW flourished is because its telegenic humanoids became less complex with every pa.s.sing season. Multifaceted people do not translate within flourished is because its telegenic humanoids became less complex with every pa.s.sing season. Multifaceted people do not translate within The Real World The Real World format. Future cast members figured this out when that initial season finally aired and it was immediately obvious that only two personalities mattered: Alabama belle Julie and angry African-American Kevin. The only truly compelling episode from the first season came in week eleven, when Julie and Kevin had an outdoor screaming match over a seemingly random race issue. format. Future cast members figured this out when that initial season finally aired and it was immediately obvious that only two personalities mattered: Alabama belle Julie and angry African-American Kevin. The only truly compelling episode from the first season came in week eleven, when Julie and Kevin had an outdoor screaming match over a seemingly random race issue.12 But the fight itself wasn't the key. What was important was the way it galvanized two archetypes that would become cornerstones for latetwentieth-century youth: the educated automaton and the likable anti-intellectual. Those two personality sects are suddenly everywhere, and they're both children of But the fight itself wasn't the key. What was important was the way it galvanized two archetypes that would become cornerstones for latetwentieth-century youth: the educated automaton and the likable anti-intellectual. Those two personality sects are suddenly everywhere, and they're both children of The Real World The Real World.

Obviously, Kevin embodies the former att.i.tude and Julie embodies the latter. And-almost as obviously-neither designation is particularly accurate. Kevin became a solid hip-hop writer for Vibe Vibe and and Rolling Stone, Rolling Stone, and he's far less robotic than he appears on and he's far less robotic than he appears on The Real World The Real World. Meanwhile, Julie was never a backwater hick (I interviewed her in 1995, and I honestly suspect she might be the savviest person in the show's history). But within the truncated course of those thirteen original episodes, we are led to believe that (a) Kevin is obsessed with racial ident.i.ty and attempts to inject his blackness into every conversation, while (b) Julie adores anything remotely new and abhors everything remotely pretentious.

Kevin's Huey Newtonlike image can't be blamed entirely on him: The Real World The Real World is unnaturally obsessed with race. And what's disheartening is that is unnaturally obsessed with race. And what's disheartening is that The Real World The Real World is so consumed with creating racial tension that it often makes black people look terrible: If your only exposure to diversity was Coral and Nicole from the 2001 "Back to New York" is so consumed with creating racial tension that it often makes black people look terrible: If your only exposure to diversity was Coral and Nicole from the 2001 "Back to New York" RW RW cast, you'd be forced to a.s.sume all black women are blithering idiots. This is partially because the only black characters who get valuable cast, you'd be forced to a.s.sume all black women are blithering idiots. This is partially because the only black characters who get valuable RW RW airtime are the ones who refuse to talk about anything else. It's the same situation for h.o.m.os.e.xual cast members-their Q factor is completely dependent on how aggressively gay they're willing to act. In that first NYC season, Norman is immediately identified as bis.e.xual, but he's not bis.e.xual enough; he only gets major face time when he's dating future TV talk-show host Charles Perez. Future queer cast members would not make this mistake; for people like AIDS victim Pedro Zamora and Dan from airtime are the ones who refuse to talk about anything else. It's the same situation for h.o.m.os.e.xual cast members-their Q factor is completely dependent on how aggressively gay they're willing to act. In that first NYC season, Norman is immediately identified as bis.e.xual, but he's not bis.e.xual enough; he only gets major face time when he's dating future TV talk-show host Charles Perez. Future queer cast members would not make this mistake; for people like AIDS victim Pedro Zamora and Dan from RW 5: Miami, RW 5: Miami, being gay was pretty much their being gay was pretty much their only only personality trait. Perhaps more than anything else, this is the ultimate accomplishment of personality trait. Perhaps more than anything else, this is the ultimate accomplishment of The Real The Real World World: It has validated the merits of having a one-dimensional personality. In fact, it has made that kind of persona desirable, because other one-dimensional personalities can more easily understand you.

If you believe Real World Real World producers Mary-Ellis Bunim and Jon Murray, they don't look for troublemakers when they make casting decisions. They insist they simply cast for "diversity." But this is only true in a macro sense-they want producers Mary-Ellis Bunim and Jon Murray, they don't look for troublemakers when they make casting decisions. They insist they simply cast for "diversity." But this is only true in a macro sense-they want obvious obvious diversity. They want physical diversity, or s.e.xual diversity, or economic diversity. What they have no use for is intellectual diversity. A Renaissance man (or woman) need not apply to this program. You need to be able to deduce who a given diversity. They want physical diversity, or s.e.xual diversity, or economic diversity. What they have no use for is intellectual diversity. A Renaissance man (or woman) need not apply to this program. You need to be able to deduce who a given Real World Real Worlder represents socially before the second commercial break of the very first episode, which gives you about eighteen minutes of personality. It was very easy to make RW 1 RW 1 Kevin appear one-dimensional, even if that portrayal wasn't accurate; he gave them enough "race card" material to ignore everything else. Thus, Kevin became the inadvertent model for thousands and thousands of future Kevin appear one-dimensional, even if that portrayal wasn't accurate; he gave them enough "race card" material to ignore everything else. Thus, Kevin became the inadvertent model for thousands and thousands of future Real World Real World applicants-these are the people who looked at themselves in the mirror and thought, "I could get on that show. I could be the _____ guy." applicants-these are the people who looked at themselves in the mirror and thought, "I could get on that show. I could be the _____ guy."

The "_______" became almost anything: race, gender, geographic origin, s.e.xual appet.i.te, etc. There was suddenly an unspoken understanding that every person in the Real World Real World house was supposed to fit some kind of highly specific-but completely one-dimensional-persona. In his memoir house was supposed to fit some kind of highly specific-but completely one-dimensional-persona. In his memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers writes about how he tried to get on Dave Eggers writes about how he tried to get on Real World 3: San Francisco, Real World 3: San Francisco, but was beaten out by Judd. Coincidentally, both of those guys were cartoonists. But the larger issue is that they were both liberal and sensitive, and they were both likely to be the kind of guy who would fall in love with a female housemate who only perceived him as a good friend. This is exactly the person Judd became; there is now a famous but was beaten out by Judd. Coincidentally, both of those guys were cartoonists. But the larger issue is that they were both liberal and sensitive, and they were both likely to be the kind of guy who would fall in love with a female housemate who only perceived him as a good friend. This is exactly the person Judd became; there is now a famous13 scene from that third season where Judd is rowing a boat and longingly stares at roommate Pam and her boyfriend, Christopher, as they paddle alongside in a similar watercraft. Months after the conclusion of scene from that third season where Judd is rowing a boat and longingly stares at roommate Pam and her boyfriend, Christopher, as they paddle alongside in a similar watercraft. Months after the conclusion of RW 3, RW 3, Pam broke up with Chris and fell in love with Judd, which is (a) kind of bizarre, but mostly (b) exactly what MTV dreams of having happen during any given season. Whenever I see repeat episodes of Pam broke up with Chris and fell in love with Judd, which is (a) kind of bizarre, but mostly (b) exactly what MTV dreams of having happen during any given season. Whenever I see repeat episodes of RW 3, RW 3, I find myself deconstructing every casual conversation Judd and Pam have, because I know a secret they don't-eighteen months later, they will have s.e.x. It's sort of like seeing old Judas Priest videos on VH1 Cla.s.sic and looking for signs of Rob Halford's h.o.m.os.e.xuality. I find myself deconstructing every casual conversation Judd and Pam have, because I know a secret they don't-eighteen months later, they will have s.e.x. It's sort of like seeing old Judas Priest videos on VH1 Cla.s.sic and looking for signs of Rob Halford's h.o.m.os.e.xuality.

The Judd-Pam undercurrent is part of the reason I consider Real World 3: San Francisco Real World 3: San Francisco the best-ever the best-ever RW, RW, but that's not the only reason. Central to my affinity for but that's not the only reason. Central to my affinity for RW 3 RW 3 is a wholly personal issue: The summer it premiered was the summer following my college graduation. I had just moved to a town where I knew almost no one, and my cable was installed the afternoon of is a wholly personal issue: The summer it premiered was the summer following my college graduation. I had just moved to a town where I knew almost no one, and my cable was installed the afternoon of The Real World The Real World season premiere. The first new friends I made were Cory and Pedro, and I rode with them on a train to California. And I pretty much hated both of them (or at least Cory) immediately. season premiere. The first new friends I made were Cory and Pedro, and I rode with them on a train to California. And I pretty much hated both of them (or at least Cory) immediately.

In truth, there wasn't any member of RW 3 RW 3 I particularly liked, and I couldn't relate to any of them, except maybe Rachel (and only because she was a bad Catholic). But I became emotionally attached to these people in a very authentic way, and I think it was because I started noticing that the cast members on I particularly liked, and I couldn't relate to any of them, except maybe Rachel (and only because she was a bad Catholic). But I became emotionally attached to these people in a very authentic way, and I think it was because I started noticing that the cast members on RW 3 RW 3 were not like people from my past. Instead, they seemed like new people I was meeting in the present. were not like people from my past. Instead, they seemed like new people I was meeting in the present.

Because The Real World The Real World has now been going on for a decade-and because of has now been going on for a decade-and because of Survivor Survivor and and Big Brother Big Brother and and The Mole The Mole and and Temptation Island Temptation Island and and The Osbournes The Osbournes-the idea of "reality TV" is now something everyone understands. Without even trying, American TV watchers have developed an amazingly sophisticated view of postmodernism, even if they would never use the word postmodern postmodern in any conversation (or even be able to define it). in any conversation (or even be able to define it).14 However, this was still a new idea in 1994. And what's important about However, this was still a new idea in 1994. And what's important about RW 3 RW 3 is that it was the first time MTV quit trying to pretend it wasn't on television. is that it was the first time MTV quit trying to pretend it wasn't on television.

Here's what I mean by that: I once read a movie review by Roger Ebert for the film Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Early in the review, Ebert makes a tangential point about whether or not film characters are theoretically "aware" of other other films and films and other other movie characters. Ebert only touches on this issue casually, but it's probably the most interesting philosophical question ever asked about film grammar. Could Harrison Ford's character in movie characters. Ebert only touches on this issue casually, but it's probably the most interesting philosophical question ever asked about film grammar. Could Harrison Ford's character in What Lies Beneath What Lies Beneath rent rent Raiders of the Lost Ark Raiders of the Lost Ark? Could John Rambo draw personal inspiration from Rocky Rocky? In Desperately Seeking Susan, Desperately Seeking Susan, what is Madonna hearing when she goes to a club and dances to her own song? Within the reality of one specific fiction, how do other fictions exist? what is Madonna hearing when she goes to a club and dances to her own song? Within the reality of one specific fiction, how do other fictions exist?

The Real World deals with an identical problem, but in a completely opposite way: They have a nonfiction situation that is supposed to have no relations.h.i.+p to other nonfictions. They have to behave as if what they're doing hasn't been done before. deals with an identical problem, but in a completely opposite way: They have a nonfiction situation that is supposed to have no relations.h.i.+p to other nonfictions. They have to behave as if what they're doing hasn't been done before. Real World Real Worlders always get into arguments, but you never hear them say, "Oh, you're only saying that because you know this is going to be on TV," even though that would be the best comeback 90 percent of the time. No one would ever compare a housemate to a cast member from a different season, even when such comparisons seem obvious. The kids talk directly into the camera every single day, but they are ceaselessly instructed to pretend as if they are not being videotaped whenever they're outside the confessional. Most of all, they never openly recognize that they're part of a cultural phenomenon; they never mention how weird it is that people are watching them exist. Every Real World Real World cast exists in a vacuum. cast exists in a vacuum.

That illusion started to crack in RW 3 RW 3. That's also when the show's mentality started to leak into the social bloodstream.

The reason this occurred in San Francisco is because two of the housemates, Puck and Pedro, never allowed themselves to slip into The Real World The Real World's fabricated portrait of reality; they were always keenly cognizant of how they could use this program to forward their goals. Depending on your att.i.tude, Pedro's agenda was either altruistic (i.e., personalizing the HIV epidemic), self-aggrandizing (he was doggedly focused on achieving martyrdom status), or a little of both (which is probably closest to the mark). Meanwhile, Puck's agenda was entirely negative, any way you slice it; he wanted to become the show's first "breakout star" (a Real World Real World Fonzie, if you will), and he succeeded at that goal by actively trying to wreck the entire project. In a show about living together, he tried to be impossible to live with. But in at least one way, Pedro and Puck were identical: Both of these guys immediately saw that they could design their own TV show by developing a script within their head. They fas.h.i.+oned themselves as caricatures. Fonzie, if you will), and he succeeded at that goal by actively trying to wreck the entire project. In a show about living together, he tried to be impossible to live with. But in at least one way, Pedro and Puck were identical: Both of these guys immediately saw that they could design their own TV show by developing a script within their head. They fas.h.i.+oned themselves as caricatures.

Ironically, they both attacked each other for doing this. By the ninth episode, Puck was breaking the fourth wall by suggesting that Pedro was trying to force his message down the throats of viewers; no one had ever implied something like this before. Without being too obvious, The Real World The Real World producers relaxed the reins and gave up on the notion that this show was somehow organic; a decision was made to let Puck and Pedro fight over the future