In the 'quality' era, there is respite in 'The Bachelor,' the most honest show ...
22.05.12
At some point in the next few weeks, the Republican primaries will have wrapped up, the nominee will be set, and the dizzying carousel of "surges" and gaffes and wingnuts will give way to the much more sedate spectacle of the two nominees pitching themselves to so-called independent voters. At that point, I suggest you switch the channel. The format that has made such a frivolous guilty pleasure of electoral politics lo these many months—the gradual narrowing of a field of vain, un-self-reflective phonies—persists on ABC's "The Bachelor," now midway through its sixteenth season.
In what is being called a Golden Age of television, with glossy HBO and AMC single-camera dramas altering the cultural landscape such that "I’m so behind on 'Breaking Bad'" is the new "I don't even own a TV"—"The Bachelor" is a lumbering brontosaurus. Nothing could be less hip. Monstrously antifeminist, corny, and bloated (each episode is two hours long), it has all the intuitive appeal of the Holy Roman Empire. I've watched every minute of the last few seasons, including the spin-off "The Bachelorette"—even if this is only a little toe dipped into the sea of their twenty-three combined seasons. The show’s appeal is that most other reality TV offers up lives and locales (tattoo parlors, fashion designers, the mega-rich, the mega-fat, teen moms) that are hyperspecific and alien to most of us—while "The Bachelor," presenting head-on a dime-store romance set in exotic locales, lets slip through the High Definition cracks the grinding banality and burning humiliation of sharing oneself with another person. We all know these feelings.
Source: Capital New York