The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 08
“I used to work for the phone company.” - Ryan
While not as dramatically charged as the presence of narcotics in the home of a recovering pillhead, one of this season’s important subplots is the continued and curious absence of Eric. Ashlee isn’t exactly getting a lot of press earlier, but what is going on with Eric is more confusing. Ashlee is trying to get her licks in - she drives the roommates around, is quick to sit by the computer and offer her judgmental two cents, and has no problem loaning a hoodie to a roommate who is too lazy/tired/drunk to put on some g-ddamn clothes already - but I just can’t bring myself to give a rip about anything she says or does.
The situation with Eric is different. Other than a few minutes chronicling his topical, boring and ultimately unsuccessful courtship with Sahar, he has been almost completely absent through eight hour-long episodes. Obviously pissbrush-gate and white-boy-virginity-gate and I-don’t-know-how-to-work-or-keep-track-of-this-audio-recorder-gate gave the producers plenty of celluose with which to work, but one has to believe that there is something else to blame for his lack of screen time. And is it a coincidence that the last time we saw something like this - a character truly falling off the face The Real World - was the last time the show was set in the Crescent City?
The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 04
“Let’s put on some reggae jams and just chill out.” - McKenzie
I’ve got to hand it to MTV. While they are getting worse and worse at capturing the nuances of the human condition, this is the second week in a row that version of New Orleans that appeared on screen was pretty darn close to the way things really are down here. The prelude to and aftermath of the Saints’ Super Bowl victory was nothing short of life-affirmingly awesome. The type of douchebag date-rapist you meet at a shitbox like The Beach on Bourbon would feel right at home at the hell-hole that is Monkey Hill. And a trip to The Boot isn’t complete until you meet at least one girl with a visible sore on her lip. Yep, they’ve got this place pretty well pegged. But as their portrait of a city that can conceivably be painted in any number of ways continues to impress, their chronicle of people interacting with even a baseline level of dignity continues to disappoint.
Even back when the first group of strangers moved into the SoHo loft that hosted The Real World’s inaugural season, truly combative discussions about race were already obsolete among young adults of a certain age. In 1992 - just as is the case today - if someone in their early 20s had ass-backward views on race-relations, he or she would rightfully be dismissed as a simple-minded bigot. Sure, every now and then a cast member gets busted perpetrating an offensive stereotype, but treatises on race have rarely gone beyond “Not all black people with pagers are drug dealers” and have rarely needed to. MTV knows enough to know that putting an unabashed racist in close quarters with anything other than a bunch of unabashed racists would be disastrous (and not at all engaging).
And because any modern conversations about religion and gender roles should be doubly innocuous lest they come off as comically heavy-handed, the only issue consistently ripe for meaningful discussion - both “meaningful” and “discussion” being used extremely liberally for the lack of more accurate terms - has been the cast members’ differing attitudes towards various sexual orientations. Over the years, the subject has been handled with a wildly inconsistent level of sensitivity - on the part of the cast and the producers alike - and this season it appears as though the Wheel of Tact has landed squarely on “Race to the Bottom.”
