Apparently I have more things to say about The Hills.

I guess it makes sense that the end of The Hills would be similar to the end of The O.C., if you lump it together with Laguna Beach as a single entity. They both lose their leading ladies, then the focus bounces around erratically for a while, with a final season of balls to the wall insanity that introduces an entirely new tone. I loved the fourth season of The O.C. for being so campy and self-referential. I'll be much more enthusiastic about a similarly self-aware and farcical final season of The Hills, as opposed to watching it continue to drift aimlessly toward oblivion.

However, revolutionary as it may be, I'm not sure I can stomach the turn Heidi and Spencer have taken toward developing a new reality genre: horror docu-soap. I feel guilty for comparing Heidi to Frankenstein's monster back when it felt moderately insightful, rather than obvious and cruel. It looks like Speidi's descending trajectory may be fascinatingly tragic, which is tragic, but, you know, fascinating.

Oh, also, The City is garbage but I love Erin and she should have her own show.

I changed my mind.

I tried so hard to convince myself that The Hills could still be magical, but it just isn't anymore. If the protagonist and narrator of the show can't even bother to pretend to care about anything that happens, neither can I. I'll still watch, but I'm not going to write about The Hills anymore.

And I'm never, ever going to write about The City because it's terrible.

The Hills, post-Lauren.

After much contemplation, I have decided to continue to watch The Hills, post-Lauren, although I feel certain that without Lauren as the centerpiece, The Hills will lose those fleeting, poignant moments of truth and poetry and genuine emotion that I so enjoyed.

Obviously, the world of The Hills has always existed within its own strange, artificial bubble, but Lauren's uncalculated authenticity set a tone that allowed the occasional genuine moment to occur. Lauren was the anchor that tethered the show to reality, the mutual friend or frenemy who provided the plausible, if tenuous, ties that bound the rest of the cast to one another. Now that Kristin has stepped in to take over as narrator, the show must inevitably twist and warp into an entirely new shape. I feel no affection toward Kristin, but I do find it serendipitous that she and Lauren happen to be perfect foils for one another. Lauren, the perpetual victim, took everything personally, and insisted, "The show is not fake and this is really my life." Kristin, "the bitch," says, "I pretty much do anything they have me do because I don't care. I mean, we're filming a TV show. Let's make it interesting. Let's have a good time with it."

Based on last night's season premiere, I think there's a palpable sense of relief to be rid of Lauren, although it is obscured by the more readily apparent apprehension and resentment toward the newly appointed narrator. As far as I can tell, the cast prefers not to be tethered to reality, and without Lauren, The Hills is free to float up and away, into a universe that's entirely free of substance or meaning or consequences. Now they can all collude to create as much drama as possible, without being hampered by any lingering concerns about cruelty or embarrassment or shattered relationships.

I think that The Hills, post-Lauren, still has the potential to be interesting, but it will be interesting in an entirely different way. The poetic banality will be replaced by surrealism, as the various cast members attempt to define this brave new world of pure artifice.

Audrina, Lo, and Stephanie are striving to create some form out of the nothingness by establishing the easy camaraderie of camp friends. At camp, you leave behind your real life and your real friends and, if you so choose, your real self. You make camp friends, who are different and separate from your regular friends. Camp friendships exist within an imposed, confined environment. Within that environment they may be imbued with meaning and power, but they tend not to translate well once removed from their original context. Audrina, Lo, and Stephanie are friends because it's more fun and convenient to be friends with one's bunkmates. Heidi is also free to transition into their klatch, now that Lauren is out of the way. But Kristin hasn't agreed to this unspoken arrangement. Just because she's moving into Lauren's old bunk doesn't mean she's ready to accept these girls as automatic friends.

Kristin, like most people who appear on reality television, isn't here to make friends. Her job is to be the bitch, and she has every intention of earning that paycheck. This attitude sets an entirely new tone for the show, highlighting its seams and its self-enclosed nature. She has two predetermined love interests to choose from: Brody, her ex-boyfriend, or Justin Bobby. (Of course, she could make a play for Spencer, but if she possessed that level of commitment to drama, she'd probably be a real actress by now.) Flitting from one to the other and back again is the most logical choice from her perspective, that of a confident, flirty actress who has been hired to instigate drama. It violates the girl code espoused by her new bunkmates, but at this point, Kristin has no incentive to commit herself to these girls or their code.

We'll see how it goes.

I would very much like to own these drawings.

How amazing are these soft pastels? They are by Karin Bubas, and are currently showing as part of her solo exhibit, "With Friends Like These..." at the Charles H. Scott Gallery in Vancouver. I think they are great. Here is an interview with the artist.

Lauren Conrad's literary debut.

Having watched all five seasons of The Hills and a few scattered episodes of Laguna Beach, I have developed a certain impression of Lauren Conrad.

She is nice, but not exceptionally nice. She is pretty, but not exceptionally pretty. She is fashionable, but not exceptionally fashionable. She seems reasonably bright, but has never indicated any interest in academic or intellectual pursuits. Lauren Conrad is, above all else, average. She is exceptionally average. And that's what makes her so eminently watchable.

We, the audience, relate to Lauren, not because we share traits in common, but because she is so abnormally normal. We can generally expect her to behave and react in a way that we would consider normal. We can project our own personalities on her. All she has to do is silently widen her eyes, and we fill in the missing dialogue ourselves. We know what she's thinking, because we know what we're thinking.

I want to believe that Lauren wrote L.A. Candy herself. Of course, I assume that an editor or editors helped her plan and outline the story. And that there were editors providing assistance and support along the way. And that those editors polished the final draft with a heavy hand. But I think that L.A. Candy is informed by Lauren's thoughts and emotions and expressed in what is essentially her voice.

Lauren has never appeared to have a literary bent. It would be unreasonable and unrealistic to expect her to know how to structure a novel, or to have a developed literary voice. If L.A. Candy were competently written, I would be forced to conclude that a ghostwriter was responsible. Fortunately for me, it is not competently written.

The narrator shifts from one chapter to another. Stylistically, there is no differentiation between the five different narrative voices. Whenever possible, nouns are modified by clichéd adjective pairings. On the first page alone: "white silk nightie," "loose blond curls" "chocolate brown eyes" "white silk sheets" "strange, sweaty guy." The verbs are distractingly precious and are often modified by the most obvious possible adverb. Again, on the first page alone, the protagonist "[smiles] mischievously," and her hair "[cascades] softly." She slinks into bed, slides onto the sheets, and nestles next to her dream guy. Naturally, said dream guy gazes into her eyes. More than anything, Lauren's writing voice reminds me of my own early creative writing attempts. I imagine I'm not the only one who recognizes this earnest, overly descriptive style. And once again, by reminding us of ourselves, Lauren endears herself through mediocrity.

The story and characters do not explicitly mirror the stories and characters we already know from Laguna Beach and The Hills. If they did, the book would be very dull, since we are already excruciatingly familiar with those stories and characters. And nobody who pays attention should have expected Lauren to fling dirt and catty judgments at thinly veiled versions of people she knows personally. Overt bitchiness would be utterly out of character, and it would undermine Lauren's overall appeal. But I think any attentive reader should be able to glean a great deal about Lauren's feelings and opinions.

The expected, behind the scenes perspective on camera men and body microphones and MTV producers would be fairly entertaining on its own. Of course, we are all so savvy and we know that there are camera men and body microphones and MTV producers, and it isn't hard to guess what those things are like. But since most of us have not personally experienced that life, it is still interesting to hear it described by someone who has. There is more to L.A. Candy than just that, though.

Although the characters are not explicitly familiar, their characteristics are. We learn exactly how Lauren feels about girls who come to Los Angeles in search of fame, who gradually devolve into bleached, bronzed, surgically enhanced clones. We learn how she feels about tabloids, and clubs, and celebrities, and orchestrated relationships with fellow cast members, and backstabbing friends. We learn how she feels about being exploited, about how being on television simultaneously expanded and limited her life, about how she resents being misleadingly edited. We learn that despite her resentments, she enjoys the experience, or at least she did in the beginning.

For me, the most fascinating aspect of L.A. Candy is the characterization of the protagonist's best friend and roommate. You might expect this character to resemble Lo, or Heidi, or perhaps Audrina. But while she shares a few minor qualities with Lo and a few with Audrina, this character seems to be, for the most part, a figment of Lauren's imagination. The protagonist, whose name is Jane Roberts, has known her friend Scarlett since kindergarten. Scarlett is depicted as a strikingly gorgeous, sexually liberated intellectual. Scarlett only wears jeans and t-shirts. She refuses to brush her hair, which is very long and very dark, and she doesn't wear makeup. She's "a rebel with off-the-charts SAT scores who never [hesitates] to say whatever [is] on her mind." Jane is docile and cheerful and naïve, but Scarlett is bitchy and insightful. Scarlett seems to represent everything that Jane is not and, by extension, everything that Lauren Conrad is not. There is a pronounced wistfulness in the depiction of the contrast between this pair of BFFs. While Lauren is not academically or intellectually inclined, she expresses a great deal of admiration and respect for those who are, and she seems envious of women whose dispositions allow them to be sexually confident and free. She also seems acutely aware of her own banality, which comes across even in her choice of character names.

L.A. Candy is just barely adequate as a novel. But as a cultural text, it's fantastic. And it's pretty entertaining. Perfect for reading on the beach.

Lauren Conrad isn't a good actress, nor does she try to be, and yet she's extremely watchable. She isn't a good writer, nor does she try to be, and yet she's extremely readable. That alone intrigues and impresses me.

SF Sketchfest: A Staged Reading of The Hills

You will probably not be terribly surprised to hear that I found the staged reading of The Hills funnier than Celebrity Autobiography. You may be surprised to know that Ed agreed with me!

There weren't any big surprises, though. If you've seen The Hills and find it amusing, it's pretty apparent that a staged reading of the dialogue has the potential to be hilarious. And it was. I especially liked Rob Huebel's Spencer impression. He was able to scrunch up his face in a hilarious approximation of Spencer's freakish face to head size ratio. Rob Riggle was great as Brody Jenner, and I also enjoyed the stand-up routine he did prior to the main part of the show. Also, the narrator, Tom Kenny, who is apparently the voice of Spongebob Squarepants, is amazing. I want him to be my friend.

Everyone was great and had some very funny and accurate impressions, with one unfortunate exception: Janine Garofalo as Lauren! In a Q&A after the performance, she admitted that she had never seen a full episode of The Hills, only clips, and that she found Lauren difficult to imitate, so she resorted to twisting her hair and speaking in a deadpan voice. Honestly, I'm pretty sure that I could come up with a passable Lauren Conrad impression in under an hour. The show is so funny and everyone else has clearly put some effort into their characters, so I was disappointed that Janine Garofalo didn't bother.

Nevertheless, it was a great show, a packed house, and Ed and I both had a great time.

Conspiracy on The Hills.

Last night's episode of The Hills was easily the best of the season so far. "You Did This" had that perfectly enticing blend of fiction and reality that got me hooked on the show in the first place. In order to tease it apart and then put it back together again, though, we're going to need some background information.

Audrina and Lauren have been drifting apart, and back together again, and apart, and back together again throughout the current season. And whenever Audrina drifts away from Lauren, she always seems to drift towards Heidi. If you recall, Heidi recently invited Spencer, Stephanie, Audrina, Justin Bobby, and Audrina's sister Casey to one of her work events. It was clear from the start that this was an inappropriate and unprofessional move by Heidi. So why did she do it? Perhaps because sad, lonely, peripheral Heidi was attempting to forge a new alliance within the show? My suspicions were confirmed later that episode, when Stephanie informed Lauren that "a new crew" seemed to be in the making. (That Stephanie is a wily one. She knows that Lauren will always be the star of The Hills, and she's playing the game accordingly.)

So Audrina has been spending some time with Heidi and Spencer, the nefarious masterminds behind the now classic "antagonize Lauren, create drama, get attention" maneuver. Audrina recently moved out of Lauren's house, which puts her at risk of being phased out of the show. So what does she do? She takes a page out of Spencer and Heidi's book and starts a rumor about herself and Lauren, claiming that Lauren supposedly hooked up with Justin Bobby. She frantically shares this rumor with every character on the show. (And with the media, naturally.)

And somehow, relentlessly sincere Lauren never saw it coming. She never does. In an added twist, she's painted into a corner. While it's readily apparent that Lauren finds Justin Bobby repellent, she's initially reluctant to make this point, because she is so attached to the notion that she is infallibly nice. Eventually though, she can't help but let Audrina know that she finds Justin "disgusting." And while it took Lauren a little while to put the pieces together, I think that during the final scene in the club, when she accused Audrina of being "worse than Heidi," it was evident that she had finally figured out what was really going on. Lauren's behavior would be quite overwrought if she were merely responding to Audrina's absurd accusation. But she is actually reacting to the discovery that Audrina, like Heidi, has been manipulating her in search of screen time, when all the while Lauren has foolishly considered Audrina a real friend.

Justin Bobby also seemed dissapointed by Audrina's machinations, and disillusioned about the show itself, when he remarked, "It's not just you, it's all of us." In the context of their conversation, this comment made no sense, but if they were actually discussing the fact that Audrina had made these rumors up in order to get attention, it fits, as does Justin Bobby's abrupt departure.

The interesting thing about the "antagonize Lauren, create drama, get attention" maneuver is that, while the antagonist temporarily succeeds in seizing the spotlight, it invariably reinforces Lauren as the protagonist. Nobody - not Spencer, not Heidi, and certainly not Audrina - can compete with Lauren's ability to play the victim. The reason for this is simple. Lauren isn't acting. Lauren, somehow, persists in the belief that these people are her real friends, that "The Hills" really is her life. She is truly shocked when her "friends" turn on her. What chance do Audrina's lackluster acting abilities have against Lauren's genuine emotions?

Meanwhile, Holly is learning to play the game like a pro. But unlike most of our friends on "The Hills," Holly isn't playing for attention - she's playing for her sister. It's obvious that Heidi is in so deep, the only way to save her is to do it from within the show. And her tactics are impressive. By moving in with Lauren, Holly positioned herself closer to the spotlight that Heidi so desperately craves. In last night's episode, she asked Spencer to tell Heidi that she stopped by, knowing perfectly well that he would not. Then, she went to visit Heidi, and asked if Spencer had passed on her message, again, knowing perfectly well that he had not. What a clever way to drive a wedge between them!

Both Holly and Stephanie have had the benefit of watching The Hills on television before joining the cast and thus, they have the distanced perspective necessary to play the game more strategically, like chess.

As for Spencer and Heidi... I think they are running out of moves. Spencer just doesn't have the imagination to sustain his villainous role. He's more of a brat than a villain at this point, moping around, petulantly calling people names and needling Heidi. If he were smarter, he'd make better use of Stephanie, but I actually think it's more likely that Stephanie will figure out how to use him for her own advancement.

After my brief post yesterday, I remembered this story, claiming that Spencer and Heidi had a deal with Us Weekly, promising exclusive access to an eventual staged wedding. Now that the wedding has taken place and the agreement with Us has been fulfilled, what's left for Spencer and Heidi? My hypothesis is that Heidi has despised Spencer for a long time, but was forced to continue the charade until the wedding. Now she'll be free to get a divorce and move on with her life, which will presumably be the focus of the next season of The Hills.

All in all, great episode. Just as I was starting to lose interest, it sucked me back in.

This is either very good news, or very bad news.

I am pondering what Heidi and Spencer's elopement means for the fifth season of The Hills. We've been dancing around this possibility for so long...now that it has actually come to pass, what happens to the show? Will it become more interesting, or more boring? I honestly have no prediction...but I guess the anticipation will keep me from losing interest altogether, at least for the first few episodes.

Oh. Really? Hmm...

There will be yet another season of The Hills. I'm surprised, and not necessarily pleased.

Holy crap, this is amazing!!!

Lauren Conrad has a book deal!? Oh my God. She is going to write a three part young adult series called L.A. Candy. It will be "the behind-the scenes story of a young girl who moves to L.A. and unexpectedly becomes the star of a reality television show." If you are mildly curious about what Lauren will write but are unwilling to actually take the time to read these books, fear not. You know that I will read them as soon as they come out, and of course I will blog about them extensively.

Do you think maybe Spencer will respond to this news by demanding a book deal of his own? That would be even more incredible. Although I doubt that I could read Spencer's memoirs without vomiting repeatedly.

Anyone who doesn't believe that Gossip Girl and The Hills are the best shows on television just isn't as smart as I am. Yeah, I said it.

Last week, I found The Hills season premiere a little underwhelming. But after last night, I'm reconsidering my initial reaction. It wasn't you, The Hills, it was me. You were gone all summer and we drifted apart. I was doing my own thing, and it's not that I forgot about you, but when you came back it felt sort of sudden and I guess I just wasn't ready. At first, all I could do was enjoy you on a shallow, superficial level. But I could tell that something was missing and I was so arrogant that my first instinct was to blame you. When I saw you again last night, though, I realized that it was my fault all along. I just wasn't emotionally prepared to appreciate you in the way that you deserve to be appreciated. You're amazing, and I'm so sorry for failing to recognize that for a minute. I won't let it happen again.

As for you, Gossip Girl. Wow. Just...wow. You blew my mind last night. It's like you spent the entire summer pondering your cultural relevance and then said to yourself, "Okay. If that's really what people want, that's what we'll give them." There were some questionable moments and yes, you were "slightly off-tone." But that's okay with me because I think I understand what you were going for and I like it. The new star of Gossip Girl is the aesthetic sensibility, and I think that's fucking awesome. I could barely concentrate on the actual story because I was too busy just gazing at the pretty pictures. If the second season premiere of Gossip Girl were a fashion spread in W magazine, I would tear out all the pages and hang them on the walls of my apartment. Be as stylized and ridiculous as you want, Gossip Girl, and I will just love you more and more.

Last night's onslaught of awesomeness totally overwhelmed my critical thinking abilities. I need to watch both episodes again before crafting a more thoughtful and specific response. (Ed and I are currently looking for a new apartment. After we move, we're going to get a flat screen television and DVR and it will totally revolutionize my blogging.) In the meantime, for more Gossip Girl discussion I highly recommend the New York recap, which is invariably fabulous. And for The Hills, if you haven't already come across Songs About Buildings and Food, you absolutely must check it out immediately. Somehow, I only discovered it last week, and I haven't had time to really delve into it yet, but it's basically the most thorough and wonderful blog about The Hills that I could ever imagine.

Notes on The Hills: Explaining Lo Bosworth.

People are starting to get straight up psycho on The Hills. Which is understandable, I guess. If camera crews and fabricated drama followed me everywhere I went, I'm sure I would start to crack after a few years.

I have been perplexed by Lo ever since she became a main character. At first, I thought she was funny and quirky and cool and a good addition to The Hills crew. But she quickly began her transition into Queen Bitchface, and I didn't know what to make of her strange behavior. I have been puzzling over Lo for some time now, and during last night's episode, I finally formulated a theory to explain her role on the show.

So, okay. This is what I think about Lo Bosworth. She doesn't like the idea of participating in a reality television show. She has a boyfriend who does not want to appear on camera, and, like Whitney, she strives to keep her own personal life off the show as much as possible. But she is one of Lauren's oldest and best friends, and she obviously cares about Lauren a lot. She deeply resents the intrusion of the cameras into her friendship with Lauren, and she disapproves of those who try to befriend Lauren in order to secure a recurring role on The Hills. She has watched as one person after another uses Lauren and then betrays her, and she is tired of seeing Lauren get hurt. So, despite her discomfort with taking on a larger role in the show, she has decided that it is worth it in order to spend more time with Lauren and hopefully protect her from the people who would try to take advantage of her.

She watched Heidi befriend Lauren in order to leech of off her fame. And since Audrina was cast as Lauren's roommate by MTV producers, she sees Audrina in essentially the same light as Heidi. While Lo is predisposed to be suspicious of Audrina due to the artificial nature of her relationship with Lauren, she also dislikes Audrina on a personal level, most likely because Audrina is often exasperatingly dim and dull. She probably also resents the fact that when Heidi and Lauren parted ways, Audrina was Lauren's new best friend and roommate by default, simply because she was there and Lauren didn't really have anyone else to turn to at the time. Since Lo is Lauren's real friend, she probably regrets not being there for Lauren. The facts are not clear regarding Lo and Lauren's relationship at that time, but it seems that there was a temporary rift in their friendship that left a place open for Audrina to step in.

Lo is not really correct in her assessment of Audrina, but it is true that Audrina and Lauren have very little in common and that Audrina has benefited a great deal from the arranged friendship. Because Lo sees herself as Lauren's protector, she feels that it is her duty, as a loyal friend, to push Audrina out of Lauren's life before she turns around and betrays Lauren just as Heidi did. And when we consider just how inexplicably trusting Lauren can be, Lo's impulse is understandable. Lo must get extremely frustrated when Lauren repeatedly opens herself up to people who are clearly just using her, despite warnings from those who actually seem to care about her.

I also think that Lo becomes very tense, awkward, and uncomfortable when she is on camera, and this causes her to grimace and behave somewhat oddly and make inappropriate and poorly thought out comments. While this does not excuse Lo's bitchiness, I think that it explains it, in part.

The Hills season four premier was good, I guess.

So Monday night's episode was pretty good, I guess. It was very eventful. New characters and lots of new drama. It seems like they should have plenty to work with during the new season. But for some reason, I just can't get excited about it. I think maybe there was a little bit too much going on. I don't watch The Hills for the drama, I watch it for the poignant, truthful moments between the drama. And I wasn't feeling a lot of truthful moments during this episode. I'm a little concerned that the producers are going to try too hard to make things exciting, and it's going to ruin what I love about the show. But we'll see.

I'm sad about Lo being such a bitchface. I can't believe that her mean girl antics have forced me to sympathize with Audrina. I was so nervous when Lo walked into Audrina's guest house. That confrontation seemed awfully staged, and yet at the same time it was so reminiscent of the mean girl showdowns that occurred all too often back in middle school. You know, the ones that pretty much scar you for life? That scene was like a nightmare middle school flashback, and I did not enjoy it. But as the scene went on and I got over my fierce urge to smack Lo in her bitchface, I had to laugh at the hilariously convoluted syntax both Lo and Audrina were using in order to make bitchy comments without actually owning the bitchiness. The passive voice has never been so amusing. It was like this lyrical dance of backwards sentence structure, where they were calling each other out but making sure that none of their sentences actually had subjects. And as awkward and ridiculous as that was, it also felt realistic and familiar. That is how mean girl showdowns go down sometimes, where both girls try to couch their bitchiness in fake niceness, and it's kind of funny because it's so transparent and futile. So that redeemed an otherwise awful scene for me.

The other thing I found sort of interesting was the extent to which Spencer has embraced his role as the antagonist. Obviously all of the Heidi and Spencer bickering is very fake, but at the same time, Spencer really seems to relish his awfulness. When Heidi asked Spencer to be nice to her sister Holly and Spencer replied, "That's my middle name," and smirked at her, he was clearly intentionally playing up his evilness. But he seems to get so much pleasure out of that, which makes him even more detestable. Most antagonists are just misguided or they have goals that are at odds with the goals of the protagonist. But Spencer just loves to make other people uncomfortable and unhappy, for no reason whatsoever. It gives me shivers.

Let's see...other thoughts on the episode...

Doug seems creepy, but I think he's just uncomfortable on camera. I have a hunch that once he gets used to the camera, he'll just be boring. Also, I think it's extremely unattractive and unflattering when guys wear basketball jerseys as regular shirts.

Thank God, Lauren is finally starting to notice that Lo is acting like a heinous bitch.

I really hope that when Audrina moves out, Holly will move in. That will set the groundwork for some hilarious altercations. Also, ew to Holly's new extensions. I am utterly repulsed by the existence of extensions now. Ugly fake hair is the nastiest and most unnecessary thing ever.

All right, I think that's all I have to say about the season premier. I'm going to try to stay optimistic about the rest of the season. That preview image of Lauren with black mascara tears running down her face gives me hope that things will go in a more poignant direction.

A very important reminder.

The fourth season of The Hills begins TONIGHT at 10:00 pm. And if you need a refresher course on the events of the third season (or if you want to turn your Monday night into a full on celebration of The Hills) recap episodes and reruns begin at 6:30 pm.

I have to say, I'm psyched that The Hills is back, since it is, after all, the most complex and interesting show on television. But at the same time, I wouldn't be devastated if this were the last season. It just seems like maybe it's about time to start winding things down to a carefully orchestrated and totally forced conclusion. I think Lauren has taken enough abuse. Why not let her move on with her life? After this season ends, let's bring back those crazy kids from The Paper or something. I know I'd tune in to see how Amanda Lorber fares at NYU this fall.



Check back here tomorrow for a scintillating deconstruction of the drama that goes down tonight. Maybe. If the episode is a good one. And if I feel like it. I make no promises.

It's nice to know you're not the only one.

This kind of made me choke up a little, and I'm not even PMSing or anything.

More on The Hills and its strange hybrid of fiction and reality.

I need to amend a statement I made in my previous post on The Hills. In it, I posited the notion that the brilliance of The Hills is, for the most part, a fluke, a product of reality television and celebrity obsession, a coincidental cultural phenomenon. At some point during last night's season finale, I changed my mind. Someone is crafting The Hills, and although I stand by my assertion the show hovers on the brink of destruction at the hands of its producers, I now realize that in many ways, they are responsible for the art that translates to our television screens.

I did not initially appreciate the French New Wave aspect of the cinematography and direction, since I know nothing about French New Wave cinema. But now that it has been brought to my attention, I am more than willing to accept this reading (watching?) of The Hills. I intend to educate myself on the New Wave movement before speaking further on this aspect of the show.

What dawned on me last night was the genius behind the hybrid of fiction and reality that provides a backdrop for The Hills. It is not a fluke or a coincidental phenomenon after all. The producers began by seeking out characters who are already inclined toward soap opera style drama in their personal lives. For some, Heidi and Spencer in particular, this is a calculated and intentional choice. For others, like Lauren, it is a more natural trait. The producers then nudge these characters into scenarios that are reminiscent of soap opera drama. This is where the risk lies, as they direct protagonists and antagonists to frequent the same clubs and restaurants and contrive confrontations between them. In directing the characters, the producers must carefully navigate past the lurking, ever-present danger that their machinations will be too transparent. Then they provide the characters with absurd and ostensibly unearned job opportunities, apartments, wardrobes, connections, and so on, which encourages the drama to unfold on a larger scale. And with these three simple but wonderful steps, they transcend the division between fiction and reality. Something resembling fiction blossoms from the seed of reality, and that seed endows the fiction with a soul that speaks to the viewer on a level beyond most other scripted or reality television programs.

As with nearly every episode of The Hills, last night's episode once again highlighted the added complexity provided by the fact that none of the characters are permitted to acknowledge the existence of the television show itself. This rule of reality television was established when MTV pioneered the medium with Real World. At the time, "Ignore The Cameras No Matter What" was a useful and logical statute. In an ongoing and multi-layered narrative like The Hills, however, this rule can be crippling at times. Some viewers complain that this is distracting, but I generally enjoy the subtext it creates. The frequent sighs and stares and silences so often communicate without words, "Well, you know I can't reference the television show while we're filming, so what am I supposed to say right now?" or "Could we please talk about this after the cameras are gone?" When this subtext is not taken into account, much of the dialogue seems empty and stilted and illogical. But when you become conscious of the enormous elephant in the room and begin to watch the show through this lens, the larger drama comes into focus.

One moment that I found particularly poignant during last night's episode was the conversation between Lauren and Audrina. When Audrina hesitantly accuses Lauren of excluding and ignoring her since moving into the new house with Lo, and Lauren, illogically, weeps and refuses to acknowledge that Audrina is patently correct, I felt the pang of recognition that makes "The Hills" worth watching. Lauren, like many people, has been hurt and betrayed many times, and as a result, she has resolved never to mistreat her friends as she has been so often mistreated. And yet, she has mistreated Audrina, not out of malice but out of carelessness and lack of consideration. She is so attached to the idea of her own goodness, however, that she is blind to her own cruelty. When a person like this is forced to confront her own hurtful behavior, she is almost always reduced to tears, because it is extremely difficult to reconcile a conflict between one's perception of oneself and one's actions.

Perhaps I am reading too much into The Hills. Perhaps I am giving its creators too much credit after all. But maybe a select few Renaissance theater-goers felt that way when they began to perceive the genius in the popular, bawdy plays of Shakespeare and his contemporaries. Like most people, I prefer to see the works of Shakespeare as insightful and beautiful works of art, rather than simply entertainment for the masses. If I choose to view The Hills similarly, I believe that is valid.

Why The Hills is good.

A lot of people seem to like The Hills and a lot of other people are baffled by this. What is it about this obviously staged and clumsily improvised show that we find so captivating? Even viewers who are drawn to the show week after week wonder what keeps them coming back. The stars are self-absorbed, unintelligent, and frequently unlikable. When there is any discernible plot, it is usually fake. And yet...

I like The Hills. I think I know why I like it. In fact, I have a hunch that I may even know why you like it, or why you should like it.

I do not admire Lauren, Heidi, Audrina, Whitney, Lo, Spencer, or Brody as human beings, as actors, or as sex objects. I do not aspire to be like any of them. But I do find them compelling, to varying degrees.

Lauren is not the protagonist because she is especially good or unique. She is the protagonist because she has an extremely expressive face and because she is pretty. In my opinion, these are perfectly legitimate qualifications. I find Lauren fascinating and usually, I find her sympathetic. I suspect (and I am not the only one) that she is confused about her sexuality. Her attempts at romantic relationships are by far the most staged and least believable aspect of the show. Her friendship with Brody seems to be based on his willingness to appear on television in a series of clearly contrived dinners and parties. I have often detected glimpses of genuine feeling on the show: jealousy, disdain, bitterness, wistfulness, desperation...but I don't think Lauren has ever demonstrated a spark of attraction toward Brody, or Jason, or any of the single episode flings cast by the MTV producers. What is apparent, though, is Lauren's extraordinary attachment to her girlfriends. While much of the conflict in the show is falsified, I don't think anyone doubts that Lauren's possessiveness and jealousy are real. And why shouldn't she be possessive and jealous? She appears to be an extremely anxious, nervous person who is often used and betrayed and who has yet to recognize that she is more drawn to women than to men. Of course she clings to her girlfriends and resents their boyfriends, and even their other girlfriends.

Heidi, repellent as she may be, is even more fascinating. If Frankenstein had assembled his monster out of plastic instead of dead body parts, I imagine that his freakish, Barbie-esque creation would not look unlike Heidi. And although the show makes Spencer out to be the mad scientist in this scenario, I am reluctant to credit him as such. Heidi is undeniably vapid, but she is also relentlessly ambitious. Her unscrupulous thirst for fame was apparent long before she met Spencer. I have no doubt that this is what inspired her to befriend Lauren while she was still appearing on Laguna Beach. A master of self-delusion, if nothing else, she is unwavering in her attempts to recast herself as an innocent victim, but I am quite sure she has more agency than she would like us to believe. She is perfectly willing to do just about anything the producers suggest in exchange for more time on screen, and she overacts in a way that is both hilarious and a little bit heart wrenching, giving the impression that she has rehearsed each and every facial expression countless times before the mirror. Her almost tangible desperation makes her pathetic in every sense of the word. It is repulsive, and yet somehow touching, which is what makes her such an intriguing character, inspiring both sympathy and disgust.

Audrina, Whitney, and Lo are less interesting to me. Audrina's cluelessness makes her an easy pawn, but she rarely does more than serve her purpose in the plot, gazing blankly with her empty eyes and bearing her aggressively white teeth. Sometimes I pity her in the way one might pity a startled kitten, but that is the extent of her depth on the screen. Whitney is an essential element of the show, as she observes and reacts to the storyline on behalf of the audience. But I don't find her to be the bastion of intelligence and common sense that other viewers seem to see her as. I think that she is smart enough to remain somewhat distanced from the show, only allowing it into a limited aspect of her life, and to take advantage of any opportunities that come her way as a result of the show. In my opinion, Lo is easily the most fun and intelligent character on The Hills, not that that is saying much. Her occasional bitchy comments are extremely welcome, as far as I'm concerned. I don't think we have seen enough of Stephanie, our latest addition, to draw any solid conclusions about her. At this point, I assume that she is simply angling for her chance to get some screen time, which is why she came out of nowhere calling herself Heidi's "best friend" and then made a beeline for Lauren at her first opportunity.

And finally, we have Spencer, or as I think of him, Iago. Obviously, there are better examples of the existence of pure evil in the world today than Spencer. But there is a senseless, inexplicable quality to Spencer's particular brand of evil that is uncannily reminiscent of Othello. And if you consider Iago's role in the play, the comparison fits eerily well. Iago is jealous of Othello's promotion to lieutenant, and Spencer is jealous that Lauren is the star of her own television show. In both cases, the jealousy is unreasonable, since Iago does not particularly deserve to be promoted to a lieutenant, and Spencer absolutely does not deserve his own show. Both Iago and Spencer demonstrate a pathological obsession with the objects of their jealousy and a sadistic delight in manipulation and destruction for its own sake. Iago schemes to turn Othello against his wife, Desdemona. Spencer schemes to turn Lauren against her best friend, Heidi. Both Iago and Spencer invent a false sexual scandal - in Iago's case it is an extramarital affair, and in Spencer's it is a sex tape. As a result of this scheming, Othello murders Desdemona himself, and Lauren ultimately makes the decision to cut Heidi out of her life. Watching Spencer on The Hills is as nauseatingly engrossing as one of Iago's soliloquies.

Some people take issue with the fact that some aspects of The Hills are fake, staged, or scripted, whereas I consider metatheatre the key to the aesthetic success of The Hills. The complex interplay between the multiple layers of plot is what makes the show so compelling. In the satiric play The Knight of the Burning Pestle, first performed in 1607, Beaumont depicts the interplay between three layers of fiction. He begins with a relatively conventional play for the time, which is soon interrupted by two plants in the audience, who object to the plot of The London Merchant and demand that the actors improvise a new story. The original plot of The London Merchant intertwines with the improvised play, The Knight of the Burning Pestle. The "citizen and his wife" in the audience are allowed to sit on the stage, where they provide noisy commentary and drive the plot according to their whims. In many ways, reading this play taught me how to watch The Hills.

On The Hills, the theatrical device of a play within a play is taken to a new level, with its multiple interwoven layers of fiction and the shimmering thread of Truth that runs through them. There is the surface plot, a conflation of actual events in the lives of the characters and events staged by the producers. There is another plot reflected in the tabloids and gossip columns. There is the plot as each individual character believes it to be and the plot they attempt to portray on screen and articulate in interviews. There is a larger story that encompasses the various stars' experiences with the television program itself as they expose their lives and personas to the public, the producers' attempts to orchestrate drama and dupe the audience, and the incredible interplay between fiction and reality. The producers and the audience are all participants in this larger story. And buried among all that, there is Truth. There are real people with real personalities and real emotions and real relationships. And the Truth can be entertaining and amusing and depressing and heartbreaking and surprising, but to detect it at all is exhilarating. Every facial expression or gesture, every interview and every rumor hints at the Truth among the layers, which is why, although I am not especially interested in celebrity gossip, I thrill at any juicy tidbit about the characters of The Hills. This gossip blog post, in particular, provides a wealth of new material to analyze and consider.

By no means do I wish to attribute the brilliance of The Hills to the MTV producers. In fact, part of the beauty of the show is its fragility, as it precariously verges on destruction at the meddling hands of its own creators. To their credit, however, the cinematography and relatively high production value play a crucial part in elevating this staged reality into an art form. The Hills is a neatly crystallized example of art imitating life and life, in turn, imitating art, a dialogue between fact and fiction playing itself out for us on screen (and online, and in magazines, and even in the real world). When Lauren, Heidi and Spencer are invited to the White House Correspondents' Association dinner and John McCain is calling Heidi "a very talented actress" and claiming that he never misses an episode of The Hills in a gracious acceptance of her presidential endorsement, it is clear that this television program is far more than a pseudo-improvised reality show. It is a cultural phenomenon, unwitting performance art in the public sphere, and a testament to the bizarre collision of reality television and our collective fixation with celebrity.

And I pretty much love it.