Reality TV: Dumb and Dumber

I just wrapped up a post regarding A&E's Intervention, and I would be remiss if I didn't add some commentary regarding the VH1 travesty that is I Love Money. We were flipping channels Sunday morning at the cottage and came across this abomination. Apparently, the entire cast on this show comes from other reality shows on VH1. Joan is an expert on the history and culture of VH1 reality shows, so she tried to explain the origins of these freaks. But aside from the reality show pedigree, it looked like the only thing these people had in common was silicone, steroids and an IQ of less than 85.

In my post on Intervention, it may have come across as cruel that I was rooting for the addict to make the interventionist look bad. But ultimately this type of detached response to the gravity of the situation reflects the dirty truth about reality TV: Whether we're watching a legitimately tragic figure like Dillon, or brain-dead celebutantes named 12-Pack, Whiteboy or Toastee, the goal is entertainment. And as consumers of both types of media, it becomes difficult to differentiate our responses. How do we not mock the stupidity and foolishness of the drug addict and the interventionist, when that's the entire point of a show like I Love Money?

Best Intervention EVER!

Last year I started watching Intervention on A&E. It's a compelling show that clearly demonstrates the horrific toll drug and alcohol abuse takes on the addict, as well as their friends and family. The show's formula is fairly simple: The addict is told they are participating in a documentary on addiction; the addict and their family are interviewed and followed by camera crews to demonstrate the need for an intervention; an interventionist preps the family and friends; the intervention is sprung on the addict and ultimately they are convinced to enter a treatment facility; black and white captions update the progress of the addict at the end of each episode.

I have no doubt that the individuals featured on this show have turned their lives into train wrecks of grand proportions and are in imminent danger. However, two things have always bothered me about the intervention process:
1. Addiction 101 tells us that an addict cannot successfully embark on recovery until they have hit rock bottom. What constitutes "rock bottom" can vary widely (prison, loss of family, and loss of a home are oft-cited examples). An intervention attempts to simulate rock-bottom by exposing the addict to the pain he or she has caused their loved ones. But I question how effective the simulation really is. Can someone who has not yet felt the need for recovery themselves actually commit to the process as a result of external input?
2. The interventionists strike me as smug, obnoxious individuals who have a standoffish demeanor that clearly frustrates the more aggravated addicts. Their approach to the intervention is formulaic and always presumes superiority over the addict.

As a result, I think I've always been secretly rooting for one of the addicts to call BS on the interventionist and just walk out. And last night's rerun of a season 3 episode, "Dillon," was exactly what I was waiting for. After starting the ball rolling with the "documentary" following Dillon and his family around Oklahoma, the production gets gummed up pretty fast when Dillon quickly suspects he is on Intervention. Seeing the producers get screwed by their own success was enormously gratifying.

But of course, there's production money invested already, so why do the smart thing and call the whole thing off? Instead, interventionist Jeff VanVonderen decides to ambush Dillon in his trailer with members of the local police department and force the intervention anyway.

After having his entire family and the local police chief barge into the trailer, Dillon becomes understandably upset. When Jeff tells him he's going to explain how this works, and Dillon curtly replies, "don't bother, I've seen the show," I started dying. It only got better when Dillon locked himself in his room, slipped out a window and took off running. A sharp-eyed family member in the living room sees the escape and the local police (who obviously take the donuts and sitting around regimen very seriously) take off in pursuit. Apparently prolonged crystal meth abuse really takes a toll on the ol' gas tank because Dillon doesn't make it very far with Chief "Hell Yeah I Want Gravy on That" in hot pursuit.

At this point, we are 56 minutes into the episode and I'm thinking that this is it. Finally, one of these unfortunate addicts is going to succeed in making the interventionist look the jackass he appears to be. But after a talking-to by the cops, Dillon caves and heads off for treatment.

This was one of the few times where a reality TV subject manages to turn the production on it's head by refusing the play by the rules. And that seems immensely more entertaining than the standard fare.