- Share This Post
- submit
- 4
-
Sparkle (0)
I absolutely can't stand MTV's series "The Hills." So why can't I stop watching it?
It's a question for the ages, my friends.
And I'm not alone. Shortly after notifying the BlogHer editor's list of my intention to write this very piece about the show, I had the following exchange with one of my fellow editors:
Her: Everytime I watch it I literally say aloud, Why do I watch this crap?
Me: EXACTLY! And: I hate these people. I'd pay good money to punch each of them in the face. This is why it MUST be written about.
Her: I'm too smart for this, this is exactly what's wrong with America, I should boycott it.
And then, sometimes I PAY for it on iTunes. OMG.
Me: It's like televisual crack. Noxious, low-grade, self-abusive and HORRIBLY ADDICTIVE.
So what's up with that, I ask you? I for one haven't the foggiest, I just know that it must be stopped.
For those of you fortunate enough to not be familiar with MTV's "reality" (and yes, those are air quotes) series "The Hills," a brief overview, courtesy of the always snarkarifically concise Television Without Pity:
If you've been living under a rock, The Hills is an original MTV "reality show" that documents the life of Lauren Conrad, former star of Laguna Beach.
Lauren is a 22-year-old facing the daily struggles of love, life and
friendship. With cameras documenting her every move, a full course load
as a fashion student and an internship at Teen Vogue, Lauren Conrad's
life is chaotic. Add in the drama of friendship and boys and you are
immersed in MTV's The Hills. Since Season 1, Heidi -- Lauren's
ex-BFF, has had a nose job, a boob job and has dyed her hair platinum
blonde -- and can now be mistaken as one of Hugh Hefner's Girls Next
Door (Isn't Spencer a lucky boyfriend?) Heidi and Spencer have moved in
together, gotten engaged, have broken off their engagement and now live
in separate apartments… but don't be fooled, they are still in love and
have a great relationship (at least if you believe the tabloids)… and
Lauren still hates them. Audrina, Lauren's new BFF has moved in with
her and is still on-and-off again with the infamous motorcycle riding,
burping in public, non-showering Justin Bobby… who Lauren still hates.
Lauren, Audrina, and Lo (former High School BFF) bought their first
house together (well Lauren and Lo did… Audrina lives alone in the back
house… for now) and like it's scripted, someone has to hate someone
else… this time it's Audrina who hates Lo.
Does reading that synopsis kind of make you want to punch a wall and yet, strangely enough, feel compelled to know more? Because that's EXACTLY what this show does to you. I mean, there's really no way to explain using things like reason or logic why one would spend thirty precious minutes each week absorbing in detail the non-events that comprise the unremarkable life of an early twenty-something and the troglodytes that make up her social circle. To the casual observer on the outside looking in -- like Sean Crespo of the "No Prior Knowledge" vlog series -- viewers of "The Hills" resemble nothing less than self-loathing masochists:
And he may have something there. I mean, what the hell is wrong with us anyway?
I've been thinking about it, and I have two theories, though neither necessarily excludes the other, and elements of both may be simultaneously operating at any given time, depending on how much you psychically over-invest in the people who live inside the glowing box of pictures in your living room (not that I would know anything about that, cough):
THEORY 1. Much like "Rock of Love," there is an element of schadenfreude operating in our enjoyment of "The Hills." Simply put, we get a visceral kick out of watching other people make complete and total asses out of themselves. We can't help it, we're only human, and there's something undeniably cathartic about watching morons do and say moronic things so that we may, from a safe and comfortable distance, point and laugh at them.
THEORY 2. Despite the validity of THEORY 1, the show's characters remind those of us who AREN'T 22 years old of an earlier time in our own lives when we naively believed ourselves to be the life-giving solar center of our own private self-made galaxy, a star around which friends and family orbited like minor planets, and the universe seemed open and expansive and full of possibility. Who we were and what we would
