A and I usually look for the same thing in a TV show: excellent dialog and character development, fast-paced story lines that mix the sweet with the sour, good production values and editing, etc. But every once in a while, A will turn on something that belongs to the craptastic world of music-channel reality TV and, on even rarer occasion, I find myself getting sucked in (it does not please me to admit this, although I'm happy to report that I continue to avoid My Sweet Sixteen like the plague).Most recently, A turned on an episode of Rock of Love (VH1), which is similar in format to The Bachelor, only with a, ahem, rocking twist. Playing the role of the dubiously famous star is Bret Michaels of Poison. The remainder of the cast includes several women who are vying for the opportunity to be Bret's girlfriend.
I can't really do a like/dislike about this show, because the two are invariably intertwined. Like any reality show with this format, Rock of Love entertains us by humiliating its cast. As the girls compete against each other for Bret's affection (both in a series of scripted challenges and just in a general "look at me!" sort of way while socializing with him), the only real contest is who comes across as the most pathetic (and amusing for us).
But the real entertainer is Bret. His headwear alone is fascinating. It includes a seemingly endless supply of bandannas, as well as several cowboy hats and, for special occasions, bandannas with cowboy hats. The fact that he's never without some kind of coif cover leaves me with no choice but to assume that he's balding - and badly. (Though I have to hand it to him for keeping his bald head, um, under wraps - his bare hair has apparently never been photographed, at least not in recent history. Seriously, Britney Spears could learn a thing or two from this guy. A Google search for "Bret Michaels" and "bald" turns up nearly 30,000 hits, but all are from other people wondering about the status of his hairline. An image search yielded no further evidence, although I'm now in possession of the knowledge that he didn't even remove the bandanna when making a sex tape with Pam Anderson a few years ago. Ew.)
And then there's his demeanor, which is a strange mixture of both sleaze and...sincerity. Of course, there's sheer sexism of the show's concept. The challenges, which determine which girls can handle his rock n' roll lifestyle while looking hot at all times, are a twist on 1950s housekeeping articles instructing women that it is their duty to be pleasing and look pleasing to their husbands at all times. In a particularly groan-worthy moment, Bret gives a girl who he's just eliminated from the competition a hug goodbye...and squeezes her butt.
But misogyny aside, Bret manages to come across as someone who's actually looking for a girlfriend, not groupies. If a girl leaves the room because another girl hurt their feelings (or whatever), he follows them to find out what's wrong. This could be for ratings (the more drama, the better), but he seems genuinely interested in listening to each girl and giving her comfort and perspective on the situation. And rather than eliminating girls who rank the lowest on porn-star hotness, he kicks off those who are most boring (this could also be just for ratings, but I'll still give him credit). As he said in the last elimination ceremony, he's not interested in "mediocrisy." (He said this twice. I thank the editors for keeping both in.)
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