Note: Do nonread on if you haven't seen Season 1, case1 of Bravo's "Princesses Long Island," titled "You Had Me At Shalom."
As expected as itwhitethornbe, there's probably only one word to ingeminatethe Sunday night premiere of "Princesses Long Island": contrived. With Bravo's newest series, realityTV seems to have folded onto itself. What started in the early 1990s with MTV's "The Real World," themusic genreeventually morphed into franchises intentionally scripted to reach the samespectacularlevels once achieved from its sheer novelty. "Princesses" has now reached the next threshold--the point at which throwmembers, raised on reality TV and freakishlyfamiliar with its formulas, purposely adopt personas intended to mimic and blow overmaterial seen on other shows.
The "princesses" featured in this acclaimseries have learned from the Kardashians' antics and the "Real Housewives" feuds. They appear on entombwith presences so transparent and desperation so cringeworthy that they mistakenly gazeat the cameras as if to confirm that theyargonbeing filmed. These women take careactually bad at pretending to be on a TV show that pretends to be situated in some sort of reality. Everyone -- cast members, show creators and the network -- are just trying way too hard.
"Princesses" follows six college-educated girls from conglomeratewealthy neighborhoods in Long Island: Chanel, Erica, Ashlee, Joey, Amanda and Casey. They range from 26 to 30 years old and they all choose to live in the luxury of their parents' homes for one reason or another.
Like most reality shows, each girl encapsulates a specific cultural stereotype. yet"Princesses" is different from series of reality TV past as it showcases -- in the most bastardized sense of the word -- a subculture that has remained largely absent from this television genre to date. These women are not only wealthy like the Kardashians, ostentatious like the "Real Housewives" and relegateof an assimilated minority group like the "Shahs of Sunset," they're also predominantly Jewish.
There's Chanel, the new-fashionedOrthodox girl, who adopts an exaggerated borscht belt-sounding affectation that seems, at to the lowest degreefrom watching her family eat dinner, absent from her home life. Even in the New York area, her schtick seems misplaced. There's Erica, the "hot" reform Jewish girl who may or may not drink too much. succeeding(a)is the "daddy's girl" and self-described JAP (Jewish American Princess) named Ashlee, whose closeness to her father is displayed through their jollycreepy desire to get pedicures together.
Then there's the self-proclaimed "poor" girl, Joey, who possesses a basic directof independence, perceived by this group as counter-culture. Amanda, the "mama's girl" has abloke12 years her senior. He watches Amanda and her mother try on swimwear in a scene so excruciating that I wish I could un-see it. Viewers providehave to lookfor future episodes to meet "princess" Casey.
Similar to the way Bravo chief Andy Cohenoffthe Hebrew word "Mazel" into a tchotchke-selling enterprise, "Princesses" also appropriates Jewish pricefor its own use. In a teaser video, an inebriated cast member deadpans, "Shabbat Shalom. Go f*** yourself."
It remains to be seen whether the series will resonate with audiences and develop into what could be Bravo's next franchise. The title begs for spinoff shows featuring "princesses" of miscellaneousother areas. Perhaps there's a "Princesses Beverly Hills" already in the works.
But there's something profoundlyuncomfortable about watching these women willingly operate deep downthese self-adopted stereotypes. They seem to live in a world where narcismmasks self-loathing. Far from entertaining, the first episode was equal partsdisconcertingand embarrassing. It's unclear who's responsible for the show's misses: cast members who are too expansivefor the spotlight, producers and their choice editing, networks that churn out these shows with reckless abandon, or viewers, myself included, who hit the sackwatching the spectacle of it all.
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Materials taken from The Huffington Post
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