Olen Bajarias
Staff Writer
The opening scene of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita can be interpreted as the return of Christ – clinging to a helicopter for Dear Life and getting a bird’s-eye view of what had become of Italy (and the world) post-Ascension and post-industrialisation. Had he seen the Guidudes and Guidettes of the Jersey Shore descending a la Anita Ekberg from the plane onto the ‘authentic’ Italian tarmac below, he would have seen enough red in his field of vision to express-call forth a hurtling ball of flame to come obliterate them and their enablers (that’s us!)
Landing with the group in Italy and not having seen the first three seasons of the show, it took some time — two MTV commercial(-laden) break’s-worth — to acclimate. An episode of the Jersey Shore doesn’t veer too far away from that ye olde reality tv mantra: conflict in the house, conflict up in da club, conlict back in the house, rinse and repeat. Last week’s episode, for instance:
- Conflict in the house: Episode 4 starts with Snooki giving a teary, PowerPoint presentation via telephone to boyfriend Jionni, trying to convince him that she is NOT a ho – with Deena, Sammi and JWoww lounging and sighing helplessly around the house in the throes of either a collective existential crisis or a hangover, each sporting blowjob-red cheongsams like neo-Imperial Concubines of the Too-Tan Dynasty.
- Conflict up in da club: The stormy, Ross and Rachel-esque relationship of neckless Ronni and Sammi reaches a new stratum of turbulence when he is caught dry-humping ‘some fat chick.’
- Conflict back in the house: A botched tag team is followed by an androgen-saturated collision between Ronni and Mike ‘The Situation’ over the latter breaching the Fratboy moral code, ‘Bros Before Hoes’.
Equally repetitive are the clothes that drape over their bodies – those Italian-American temples of the bloated, self-entitled ego. The ladies seem utterly powerless to resist the purring mating-calls of Stabilo-neon animal prints, semi-precious metallic bling over loud turtlenecks, Himalayan yeti Fugg boots, hoop earrings and palm-length corsets-cum-obi belts, while the gents come decked out in outfits that may as well be pilfered from the costume department of a bottom-shelf Jean-Claude Van Damme motion picture, where he plays a gym-bound bouncer/shot-putter – sartorial Cadbury Roses as unwholesome as they are assorted, collectively exuding a don’t-fuck-with-us, Red Bull-wild, tackycardiac violence.
Hearing about the premise of the new season, the Jersey Shore shot in Italy, I had expected something that would show these obnoxious, decibel loving Americans sparring with and reacting to a foreign environment (something like ‘The Jersey Shore: An Idiot(s) Abroad’) Instead, the housemates whittle away most of their time indoors, in that monstrous townhouse ergonomically designed for minimal privacy and maximal recording by cameras hungry for drama. If not for the Department of Tourism-approved, B-for-Banal footage of Florence anchoring it geographically, the show could have taken place anywhere walls can be erected.
The choice of Italy as the setting seems totally arbitrary – the extravagant whim of television producers with too much money and too little imagination, wanting to do something new. It would have been interesting to have these guys truly immersed in the culture of Italy and see how disconnected and distant they really are from the heritage they oh-so-proudly cling to as their unifying identity. But this is, after all, a reality show and we all want to see some red-hot mess. And this season delivers like, well, pizza.
When dawn breaks over morally bi-curious Marcello and his co-roisterers at the end of La Dolce Vita, they emerge from a botched orgy and their extra-luxe beach house to find the grotesque carcass of a beast washed ashore. They seem drawn to it, perhaps seeing something of themselves in its roaming, abyss-black eyes. They can’t help but watch and stare at the ugly thing. If you get the film on DVD and pause it at just the right moment, I swear I could see Mike ‘The Situation’ being strapped onto a stretcher after the scuffle with Ronnie reflected in the beast’s eyes. What happens next? I guess we’ll all have to watch next week’s episode to find out. I bet a tenner though that he’ll be just fine.
