A reality show without a villain is like the island of love Where Big Brother Celebrities without a little make-up boudoir, it’s wack, you understand? Yes, 100%.
Posted at 8:15 a.m.
In a fiery “set-up”, often a soulless tropical villa or an alpine chalet furnished with Structube, participants have to sacrifice themselves to stir up the proverbial cards of the game of seduction. Without them and, above all, without them, the ace of clubs wouldn’t sting your heart (in neon pink), to paraphrase the genius MC Solaar.
To Double occupation Last fall, Sabrina (aka Miss Bec Sec) and Audrey, who revealed her Cruella side on the final trip to the Dominican Republic, swapped roles as the she-devil who dresses in Puma instead of Prada.
To the island of lovetormented 21-year-old real estate broker William is currently giving TVA viewers a crash course in cognitive hijacking – the gaslighting — invalidating his partner Amanda’s feelings and bringing the sentimental stakes down to her navel.
Without these intense, disconnected, energy-drinking people, our weekend TV marathons would become as boring as a wine-tasting workshop between Tim and Denise at If we loved each other.
The best example of a perfect and paying villain is found in Selling Sunset (Sun to spare) from Netflix, the best real estate reality show in the universe, no kidding. In fact, it’s a frivolous docusoap nicely wrapped in a Tiffany box. I engulfed the fifth season – offered in French and English since last Friday – in two evenings filled with outrageous clothes and Rapunzel extensions.
This troublemaker is the blonde Christine Quinn, the Amazon agent who put on Louboutin and a designer mini-skirt two weeks after her cesarean section.
Without Christine and her lemon yellow Lamborghini, no emission. When Christine shows up at the luxury real estate agency run by the terrifying twins Brett and Jason Oppenheim, she commands attention behind her gruesome brushed metal desk.
When Christine is absent from a suburban “bachelorette” party, her rival friends talk only about the dirty talk she uttered in a deceptively innocent tone, sipping a $27 cocktail, doused with rose water in aerosol. Yes, it’s very trendy in Beverly Hills. Pschit, pschit, rose water on your gin and tonic.
This schoolyard theater and queen bee eats a lot of airtime in Selling Sunset 5. Maybe too much, even. Could we put the camera back on poor Davina, who constantly humiliates herself in front of the crank owner of the 75 million house, please? This real estate developer of Turkish origin looks like a villain in Homeland Where 24 and it’s really scary.
But no. The last chapter of Selling Sunseteven more scripted than usual, thoroughly plays up Christine’s alienation from the rest of the agency girls, Chrishell, Mary, Amanza, Heather and rookie Emma, who dated the same man as Christine (OMG, drama !).
And without any subtlety, the producers of Selling Sunset have hired an ally for Christine named Chelsea who is basically a London copy of the original. Christine and Chelsea, the self-proclaimed blonde and black Barbies, share a head-to-toe love of logo outfits. And they form the alliance of those who tell the truth, in any case, who tell their truth, hoping to create a chill for the cameras.
Another important piece of intrigue: the romance between the bubbly Chrishell and her boss Jason Oppenheim. We all know how this relationship will end (thanks TMZ), but we’re sticking around until the final episode to see how Chrishell announces it in front of a charcuterie platter and a spectacular view of Los Angeles. Leave here a sad generic pop music.
The magazine Time best explained why Selling Sunset captivates his fans as much. It’s a modern fairy tale that features independent women in princess dresses. Chrishell is Cinderella, and Christine, Javotte. One has been poor, and the other is swimming in money.
The empowering message (girlboss !) that the protagonists of Selling Sunset send of course comes up against some contradictions. Mary, Chrishell and company toil to afford luxury condos, Chanel earrings and beauty treatments. “I buy my own diamonds and my own rings,” they could sing in tribute to Destiny’s Child.
On the other hand, their work environment forces them to bitch between them and to symbolically push each other into the infinity pool. It’s a funny mix of feminism and materialism. For these strong and liberated brokers, the pinnacle of success is not becoming your own boss or living comfortably, but getting married and having children.
And that, honestly, is even stranger than Romain who speaks in English in front of a Mary who multiplies the faces of amazement.