by Lori Tuckett
Yes, I turned down the opportunity to be a cast member on MTV's "The Real World." Often, when I say this to someone at a party, the listener steps back with astonishment and then sidles closer for my dish on dissing the show. So here goes, free of charge.
I completed my essay on "Why I want to go to San Francisco and what I would do once there" on a whim. In the midst of one particularly couch-potatoish weekend, I was watching a "Real World" marathon when an exuberant commercial snapped me out of my stupor. MTV was accepting applications for the San Francisco cast: "Get off your couch and onto the tube!" I just had to send an explanatory letter and a picture for consideration. My objective was to pique the interest of the faceless folks at MTV, so I proposed that I'd pursue a writing career in San Francisco. For six months, I'd let them follow me around as I faced the slings and arrows of the publishing world and penned... romance novels. I included a racy excerpt from one of my "works in progress" and topped off the application with cheesecake bathing suit shots of myself. (Hey, I'm no dummy. I know that sex sells. If my character profile didn't warrant a second look, my "assets" would.)
In writing my initial essay, I tried to think like a television producer and show that I had a story which would play well on TV. I envisioned an assistant making a fevered pitch to cast me in the show: "Imagine the tension that will play out if we choose this one. A 21-year-old, overachieving black female who comes from a prep school and is now a senior at an Ivy League college. She's on the brink of entering the real world and is torn about which direction she should go." I found it unsettlingly easy to become one with the Hollywood style of self-promotion. Here is how I unfolded my drama for MTV: Would I dare to postpone my graduation and pursue an unusual dream on the West Coast, or yield to familial expectations and be the first in my generation to earn a degree and a respectable, high-salaried career in investment banking?
I gave MTV all the right scenarios. Viewers would be privy to the phone calls in which my mother tried to make sense of what I was doing. I asked them to imagine the mini-dramas as I met each literary success or rejection, to conceive of the titillation as I read romance passages to my roommates and asked for suggestions. After sending my application into the black hole of MTV offices, I chewed my nails for two months. Then, during finals in mid-December I received a package in the mail. "Congratulations! You have been selected from among thousands..." — the package contained an in-depth questionnaire and request for me to make a videotape of myself! (And pronto, since filming was to begin in January.)
I found it unsettlingly easy to become one with the Hollywood style of self-promotion.
Suddenly I was a director planning elaborate storyboards in my head. I decided to do "A Day in the Life" feature which would introduce the producers to my small hometown. I described the hardships of elementary school where loyalties came and went easily, and of my decision to attend boarding school. The end product wasn't Fellini but I guess they liked what they saw. I then entered a whirlwind of telephone interviews in which I videotaped my side of the conversation for the producers to review. From these tapes they would decide if I was interesting, animated, and photogenic enough. And, in response to their scrutiny, the actress in me burgeoned. From the interview questions asked by the MTV producers, I perceived the role they wanted me to fill within the emerging cast. I subtly played up the side in me they wanted. While doing this made getting green-lighted easy, the self-deception began to weigh upon me. I found myself acting more the character than myself. I believe that I'm a rather scrupulous person, and I wondered: "If the allure of Hollywood could make me be less than true to myself, of what hypocrisy could my potential roommates be capable?"
Thank goodness I saved myself from Puck.
I had other concerns as well. Everyone knows that a requirement for being on "The Real World" is relinquishing your right to privacy. Every foible, mishap, or insanity can be televised. What if when I finally got to see my life relived on TV I found that I was, horror of all horrors, boring? I had reservations about signing my life over to the producers too. Whenever I tried to fish for information about the rest of the cast, I was promptly steered away. MTV was essentially asking that I entrust myself to them and trust their judgement in assembling my roommates. The one clue I gleaned was that we'd all be from very different backgrounds and locations. After all, conflict televises well. I had seen that this was true from the two previous seasons, but I wasn't willing to subject myself to it for the sake of drama. Was it really accurate to call the show "The Real World" when everything was so carefully calculated to create drama for the lens?
The producers made their casting decisions down to the wire. With fewer than two weeks before taping was to begin, I received the good word. Ultimately, I turned down the opportunity to star on "The Real World." Some days I kick myself for it. Having seen the San Francisco cast which was used, I can deduce who filled my role: the Ivy-educated Asian woman named Pam. But I can also see some of my personality reflected in Rachel, the conservative who had issues with Puck. (Who didn't?) Thank goodness I saved myself from Puck. Yet I admit that when I open my mail and see a deluge of bills I wistfully think how nice it would be to also find a residual paycheck from MTV. Hell, maybe I'd be married to Judd instead of Pam, or have a best-selling exercise video like one member of the New York cast did. Nonetheless, I'm now three years removed from my Hollywood seduction and my life's drama has worked itself out. I've managed to find work about which I can feel truly proud. And although I'm presently too repressed to write romance, my new co-workers seem to like me — as me — just fine.
If you want better insight on the artifice behind documenting someone's "real world," check out the movie
"Real Life" (1979). Albert Brooks plays an intrusive documentary filmmaker hoping to chronicle the life of a "typical" American household.
After her success with the "Real World" application, Lori Tuckett sent out cheesecake photos with every résumé. She's an editor here at Tripod.
