The Real World: Back to New Orleans, Episode 07
“The kitchen is where the food is and I want to eat my food.” - Knight
A few days before Super Bowl XLIV, a rumor started going around that the Real World cast may be watching the big game at the Rusty Nail. The Rusty Nail is my home away from home, so when I caught wind of this potentially disastrous development, I predictably freaked out and marched on over to get some answers.
Thankfully, the lovely Cyndi was behind the bar and my friend Scott was in attendance when I stormed into the Nail with an axe to grind. Cyndi assured me that although MTV producers had approached the proprietors about potentially allowing the roommates to stop by on Sunday, the terms of the arrangement were respectfully declined. Having been successfully talked off the ledge, I grabbed a PBR and started to catch my breath when Scott posed what turned out to be a very thought provoking question.
“What if the Real World did spend an evening here? Obviously no one wants them jamming up a Super Bowl party, but would seeing the interior of The Rusty Nail on TV a few months from now be the worst thing in the world?”
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.”
