What is the real l word about

The Real L Word is an American reality television series aired on the cable station Showtime, where it premiered on June 20, 2010.^[1][2] The show was created by executive producer Ilene Chaiken and Magical Elves Productions, following the success of the television drama The L Word also created by Chaiken. The Real L Word follows a group of lesbians in their daily lives in Los Angeles, and as of the third season, Brooklyn.

The Real L Word
Official promotional poster for Season Three
Genre	Reality Drama series
Created by	Ilene Chaikin
Opening theme	«Hazy» as performed by Love Darling
Country of origin	United States
Original language	English
No. of seasons	3
No. of episodes	27 (list of episodes)
Production
Producer	Ilene Chaiken
Production locations	Los Angeles, California (2010-) Brooklyn, New York (2012-)
Running time	54–58 minutes
Production companies	Little Chicken, Inc. Magical Elves Productions Showtime Networks
Release
Original network	Showtime
Picture format	1080i (HDTV)
Original release	June 20, 2010 – September 6, 2012

With seasons 1 and 2 being successful, Showtime commissioned a third and final season, which premiered on July 12, 2012.

CastEdit

	Season 1	Season 2	Season 3
Main cast
Francine Beppu		Yes
Sara Bettencourt	Yes	Yes	Yes
Somer Bingham			Yes
Kacy Boccumini		Yes	Yes
Amanda Leigh Dunn			Yes
Rose Garcia	Yes
Sajdah Golde		Yes
Jill Sloane Goldstein	Yes
Romi Klinger	Yes	Yes	Yes
Mikey Koffman	Yes
Kiyomi McCloskey			Yes
Cori McGinn-Boccumini		Yes	Yes
Whitney Mixter	Yes	Yes	Yes
Claire Moseley		Yes
Lauren Bedford Russell			Yes
Tracy Ryerson	Yes
Nikki Weiss	Yes
Guest appearances
Chanel Brown		Yes
Raquel Castaneda	Yes
Kelsey Chavarria		Yes	Yes
Victoria Dianna	Yes
Rose Garcia		Yes	Yes
Scarlett Hernandez	Yes	Yes
Natalie Hornedo	Yes
Stamie Karakasidis	Yes
Romi Klinger	Yes
Alyssa Morgan	Yes	Yes	Yes
Laura Petracca			Yes
Donna Rizham			Yes
Rachel Rodriguez		Yes	Yes
Veronica Sanchez			Yes
Jaq Schmitz		Yes	Yes
Bianca Von Krieg			Yes

EpisodesEdit

Season 1 (2010)Edit

Season 2 (2011)Edit

Season 3 (2012)Edit

ReferencesEdit

External linksEdit

• Official website
• The Real L Word at IMDb

Американский реалити-сериал

The Real L Word
Официальный рекламный плакат третьего сезона
Жанр	Реальность. Драматический сериал
Создана	Илен Чайкин
Вступительная тема	«Туман» в исполнении Love Darling
Страна происхождения	United Состояния
Язык (и) оригинала	Английский
№ сезонов	3
№ серий	27 (список эпизодов)
Производство
Производитель (и)	Илен Чайкен
Место (а) производства	Лос-Анджелес, Калифорния (2010-). Бруклин, Нью-Йорк (2012-)
Продолжительность	54–58 минут
Производственная компания (-а)	Little Chicken, Inc.. Magical Elves Productions. Showtime Networks
Дистрибьютор	Showtime Originals
Release
Исходная сеть	Showtime
Формат изображения	1080i ( HDTV )
Исходный выпуск	20 июня 2010 г. (2010-06-20) -. 6 сентября 2012 г. (2012-09-06)
Хронология
, предшествующая	The L Word
Внешние ссылки
Веб-сайт

Настоящее L Word — американский реалити-шоу, транслируемый по кабелю станция Showtime, премьера которой состоялась 20 июня 2010 года. Шоу было создано исполнительным продюсером Илен Чайкен и Magical Elves Productions после успеха телевизионной драмы The L Слово также создано Чайкеном. The Real L Word следует за группой лесбиянок в их повседневной жизни в Лос-Анджелесе, и, начиная с третьего сезона, Бруклин.

Поскольку сезоны 1 и 2 были успешными, Showtime заказал третий и заключительный сезон, где будет много новых лиц и несколько повторяющихся. Премьера третьего сезона состоялась 12 июля 2012 года на канале Showtime.

Содержание

• 1 Состав
• 2 серии
  • 2.1 Сезон 1 (2010)
  • 2.2 Сезон 2 (2011)
  • 2.3 Сезон 3 (2012)
• 3 Внешние ссылки

Актеры

	Сезон 1	Сезон 2	Сезон 3
Главный состав
		Да
Сара Беттенкур	Да	Да	Да
Сомер Бингэм			Да
Кейси Боккумини		Да	Да
Аманда Ли Данн			Да
Роуз Гарсиа	Да
Сайда Голд		Да
Джилл Слоан Голдштейн	Да
Роми Клингер	Да	Да	Да
Майки Коффман	Да
Киёми МакКлоски			Да
Кори МакГинн-Боккумини		Да	Да
	Да	Да	Да
Клэр Мозли		Да
Лорен Бедфорд Рассел			Да
Трейси Райерсон	Да
Никки Вайс	Да
Появления в гостях
Шанель Браун		Да
Ракель Кастанеда	Да
Келси Чаваррия		Да	Да
Виктория Дианна	Да
Роуз Гарсия		Да	Да
Скарлетт Эрнандес	Да	Да
Натали Хорнедо	Да
Стэми Каракасидис	Да
Роми Клингер	Да
Алисса Морган	Да	Да	Да
Лаура Петракка			Да
Донна Рижам			Да
Рэйчел Родригес		Да	Да
Вероника Санчес			Да
Джак Шмитц		Да	Да
			Да

Эпизоды

Сезон 1 (2010)

Сезон 2 (2011)

Сезон 3 (2012)

Внешние ссылки

• Официально сайт
• Настоящее L Word на IMDb

Showtime Original

2010 • 3 Seasons • Reality, LGBTQIA+

Seasons 1-3 Available Now

About The Series

From the Executive Producer of The L Word® and the Creators of Project Runway and Top Chef comes this sexy reality series that goes where no show has gone before. Smart, gorgeous and fiercely successful, this fascinating group of LA ladies is ready to make the scene with their uniquely captivating stories and sizzling drama. From love and lust to family and career, these women know what they want and just how to get it.

Videos

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3 Seasons, 27 Episodes

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Context. Context is everything, right? Agreed? Fantastic! Let’s discuss how The Real L Word ignored context, favored quantity over quality and ultimately failed for those reasons. Furthermore, just like its namesake, it didn’t have to. The supplementary material (blogs/recaps/cast follow-ups), per ushe, have been way more compelling than the show itself. See, these are real human beings, and editing them into cardboard cut-outs in a vacuum void of political/cultural forces was awkward and unnecessary and NOT, in fact, inevitable by virtue of it being a reality show.

I knew nothing about modern reality TV going into this, but now I’ve read a lot about it, grilled my friends on their varying affections for Jersey Shore/The Hills and endured a full six minutes of The Real Housewives of Somewhere and 20 (20!) minutes of The Jersey Shore Does Miami, so I’m more or less an expert now.

[All photos of Real L Word cast are their own or public photos, none of them are from the actual show.
It is important that you know this.]

1. The Real L Word needs a point/central idea

What was the point? There wasn’t one. That’s its first failure. Other reality shows have points! You think they don’t, but they do! EVERYTHING GOOD HAS A POINT, IT IS MY LIFE GOAL TO PROVE THIS TO YOU. Don’t believe me? Read “The Hills defined the boom, Jersey Shore defined the bust” and you’ll get it.

Usually the point of docusoaps seems to be “money doesn’t buy happiness” which runs contrary to our assumption and therefore challenges preconceived notions and therefore is inherently interesting. Perhaps “lesbians are sexy by patriarchal standards of beauty too” was the point for some lesbian viewers (like, apparently, for Rosie O’Donnell), but that’s not enough for a series. That’s one episode of True Life.

2. “Real Lesbians” is not a hook, people.

The reality TV model is premised, usually, on the idea of taking people out of context and seeing what happens (into a house with seven strangers, onto an island, swapped with your wife). When a reality show DOESN’T take people out of context, that’s ’cause the context itself is a worthy hook — apparently this applies to rich beautiful high school kids, outrageous funny loud party animals who enjoy The Jersey Shore, hoarders, drug addicts, wealthy housewives and Show Dog Moms & Dads. It also applies to a GROUP OF ACTUAL FRIENDS. The Real L Word is the only show we can think of which did not feature a peer group OR a context/challenge/contest. What we ended up with was a documentary-style cast stuffed into a reality TV show box.

THIS LOOKS LIKE A CUTE EPISODE, I WANT TO SEE THIS EPISODE

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Because what was The Real L Word‘s “hook”? What was it “about”? “Real lesbians” is no more interesting than “real white people” or “real straight people.” The “real lesbians in Los Angeles” premise was abandoned after the first episode and in all subsequent marketing materials.

Hooks matter before anything gets to the editing room, too. Reality TV stars sign up to be the “realest” housewife/”guido”/bitch they can be. They’re prepared to play it up. But for TRLW, everyone was just supposed to be … uhhhh… gay? If they eschewed a group of friends in favor of “diversity,” they failed at diversity so, let’s not even go there. These ladies are just similar enough to be representative of the same social strata but too different to say or be anything, collectively, besides “lesbians.” Nor was it exceptional enough to attract a significant hetero audience desiring a “window” into the Exotic Lesbian World.

3. Needs a Snookie

Every successful reality show needs at least one outrageous, iconic Reality TV personality. Or so I hear. That Memorable Someone destined for weekly appearances on The Soup, trademarked by a complete lack of self-consciousness and a few memorable catchphrases.

FourFour accurately described this type of person in his commentary on the commentary of Jersey Shore‘s Season One’s DVD Commentary:

The Jersey Shore audio commentary tracks are perfect documents of the heightened, fascinating narcissism of the reality star that sometimes runs these shows like a perpetual motion machine (the acting out provides themselves entertainment, which makes them want to act out again and more ridiculously so as to provide themselves with future entertainment, which will only make them want to act out more…).

LOOK AT THIS VIDEO OF MIKEY & RAQUEL. WHY WAS RAQUEL KEPT FROM US, SHE IS A BRILLIANT MAGIC WIZARD.

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4. It Should Have Been Five Shows, Not One

Though I’m pained to imply that I might want to spend one more godforsaken minute of my life listening to Rose and Nat play Douche-Bitch Verbal Volleyball, there’s more to these women than the show let us know. Read their blogs. Rose, Tracy, Jill, Nikki, Whitney and Mikey tried REALLY HARD. The footage must be there… we just didn’t see it.

This Looks Like a Good Episode

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It should’ve been FIVE shows, not one. I would’ve probs hated all five (because I’m unable to enjoy reality tv b/c i am annoying), and definitely 2/5, but they would’ve been better, I think, than this.

Why give each character one theme  — Whitney is Sex, Rose is Drama, Nikki & Jill are Consumerism/Marriage, Tracy is Family/Growing Up, Mikey is Work — when you could have every character encompass three or five or ten themes each? Negotiating how to properly prioritize life’s many forces is what makes human beings — and shows about human beings — who they are. Entire shows have been made of these storylines — GOOD SHOWS! Instead, Mikey’s like the poor man’s Kell on Earth and Whitney’s posse came off as a 30-second preview for what could be their own Gimme Sugar.

Whitney has a job

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It’s the hard, complicated, uncomfortable truths that make the best stories. Yet TRLW left nuance on the cutting room floor, valuing pre-determined “stories” over asking truly compelling questions. The pedantic opening queries set the tone for eight episodes which relied on editing, rather than personalities or actual character arcs, to coalesce. The result felt incomplete, sloppy, and often boring.

Why was so much discarded? Probably FOR TIME! We don’t know the girls much better than we did watching TRLW’s pre-season interviews and preview, unless you’ve followed their off-screen lives online. I know the conflict in Sammi & Ronnie’s relationship from watching twenty minutes of Jersey Shore. I’ve still got no clue what Rose & Nat are ever actually fighting about.

When you read Whitney’s blog or interviews with her friends, you see a smart, introspective, entrepreneurial, ambitious, funny, philanthropic human WHO ALSO possibly mishandeled Tor/Romi/Sara’s emotional well-being with reckless rationalizations. But we only saw Sex Whitney, which is a shame because the paradox IS WAY MORE INTERESTING THAN WHAT WE SAW. The friends who love you despite everything (see: Jersey Shore bros) needed more air time. We don’t need to be told who to hate, Ilene. Give us the facts and let us decide, like we did with Jenny Schecter until you turned her into a monster.

This Would Be a Good Episode

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Women can spend entire series shopping and falling in love, but we care about Carrie Bradshaw‘s shoes because we care, to some degree, about who she fucks, where she works, what makes her sad/happy, and what her friends talk about when they talk about her loves. These things intersect. Nikki & Jill’s life is more complicated than what we saw: they have jobs, sex, actual exes (not made-up ones). On Jill’s blog she noted that they never showed “Nik’s rendition of Taylor Dane’s Tell it to My Heart as she skirted around the living room in her underwear.” Instead, they juxtaposed strap-on sex with Passover Seder. Good job, show.

5. Frankenbiting Made Us Stop Trusting that Real Stories Were Being Told

Even if there’s no conflict between people, there’s conflict within people, like Bette’s idea of herself as a powerful, in-control person cutting against her failure to be faithful to Tina. By splicing up Tracy’s journey with her Mom into two-minute bits, we got the revelation (which was poignant) but only a haphazard sense of the process.

this is one of the most beautiful pictures i’ve seen all day, and i read a lot of tumblrs

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Furthermore, due to speak-and-spell editing, we lost confidence circa episode 102 that anything genuine or true-to-life would ultimately unfurl. So many bits felt as artificially tacked-on as Jenny’s nonsensical murder, and like Jenny’s murder, we couldn’t see anything beneath the surface for us to hold onto.

6. The Real L Word existed in a Vacuum

MOST IMPORTANTLY! This is such a FASCINATING time to be queer!

We’re right on the edge of/maybe really far away from so many things, like actual media representation and equal rights. We’re victims of massive religious and political conspiracies (for real!). There’s in-fighting within the queer community tearing us limb-from-limb. We face specific challenges and experience specific joys. Alice’s “The Chart” worked because it illuminated a concept we all knew about but hadn’t yet seen reflected.

Evidence that the cast Knew About, Cared About Prop 8

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TRLW ignored Prop 8. That’s criminal! We know they talked about it! By leaving it out, the producer irresponsibly allowed Mikey & Raquel’s story to convince a few thousand straight viewers that gay marriage IS legal. OH HAY there’s a recession going on AND WE NEVER HEARD ANYONE TALK ABOUT IT! Why not?

Those are the moments we have to relate specifically to THESE PEOPLE at THIS TIME. Hollywood is cutting jobs left & right. Our relationships and emotional health are under specific strain in America. The macro/micro shit going on here is what’s fascinating, as it is with any marginalized population. This show could’ve reached out and drawn us in to familiar feelings of what it’s like to live now — like the best art does — but instead it opted for tiring, ahistorical, worn-out concepts. It could’ve been filmed in 2002 or 2012.

Let’s get real: The Real L Word feels like it was storyboarded by straight people.

I endeavor to suggest that queers are, on the whole, more likely to be interesting than other people and their group dynamics subsequently more complicated. Stuffing everyone into lazy tropes meant none of that complication had a chance to unfurl, if it ever existed at all. By not introducing the cast to the cast from the get-go, we never got to see anyone out of their comfort zone — now that they’re all friends, however, a Season Two would likely be much better than Season One.

So, what are you so afraid of, Little Chicken? How weird and complicated and beautiful we really are? If you peel back the surface you’re so obsessed with, you’d find rich layers of detail and contradiction. By ret-conning characters — picking plots first and characters second — you’re treating actual humans like Helena Peabody! And you didn’t have to. If reality TV survives the decade, it’ll have to shift focus. I predict ACTUAL HONESTY making a comeback, as foretold by MTV’s If You Really Knew Me and Julie & Brandy In Your Box Office For Reals.

We’re eager for labyrinthine personalities; that’s why we read cast blogs, watch home videos, and befriend Romi on facebook. But we don’t want Season Two. We want these girls to tell their own stories. We want somebody else in charge. Everyone’s paying attention now, aren’t they? Show them what we can do, and tell me — what are you here for?

Within the first two minutes of The Real L Word, Showtime’s new lesbian-themed reality series, we hear the phrases «breast in mouth,» «sour cream on boobs,» and «eating…» something we’re not allowed to print. We go on to learn that «the hot bitches have arrived» (cue club-hopping scene) and that Los Angeles, where the show takes place, is full of a «more polished lesbian»—the kind who lives in Beverly Hills, shops at Gucci, and lets her woman do the cooking. We learn that «fetch» is a feminine-but-butch lesbian, that «pants and pumps» refers to whether you’re butch or femme, and, of course, the old lesbian U-Haul joke: What does a lesbian bring to a first date? A U-Haul, of course—because she’s moving in!

It’s worth a laugh, but if you think the unenlightened will learn anything about «real» mainstream lesbianism from The Real L Word, which premieres on Sunday, think again. This may be the first group lesbian reality program to hit mainstream cable, but the show is anything but barrier-breaking. Inspired by the original L Word series (and produced by its creator, Ilene Chaiken), the series is a kind of Housewives meets Queer as Folk, purporting to show the «real» lives of «real» lesbians who, as the Showtime marketing spin puts it, are «every bit as glamorous, fashionable, fabulous»—and «cutthroat»—as their hetero housewife sisters.

The show follows six women at work and at play—and all the drama that comes along with it. There’s Mikey, the show’s token butch, responsible for casting L.A. Fashion Week. There are Nikki and Jill, the Beverly Hills couple caught up in planning an over-the-top commitment ceremony. There’s Whitney, the show’s serial playgirl, caught red-handed with (multiple) women; and there are Tracy, a 29-year-old production exec, and Rose, the fiery party girl, both struggling to navigate the everyday challenges of each of their relationships. It’s dramatic, sexy, trashy, obnoxious—everything a good reality show should be, meaning «real» is actually fake and «lesbian» is synonymous with hot, horny, and willing to take your top off.

All of which would be totally unsurprising, if this were Jersey Shore. The problem is, The Real L Word isn’t—and it’s the only show on TV portraying real lesbians. So as lame as it is to say that every gay program has a «responsibility» to the «greater cause,» it’s lamer to pretend it doesn’t. Because, well, people are watching: a recent GLAAD survey found that a third of Americans who said their feelings toward gays had become more favorable attributed that, in part, to characters they saw on TV.

So while Chaiken may not purport to introduce America to Lesbianism 101—as she once told The New York Times, «I won’t take on the mantle of social responsibility»—between the tits and ass, the lights-out groans, and constant references to «f—king,» she does more to glamorize that tired old Sapphic fantasy (girls making out? hot!) than to teach us anything about real-life lesbians. Even an on-air discussion of «sexual fluidity»—the idea that people can be attracted to others, regardless of gender—is completely negated, as references to «pants and pumps,» Mikey’s complaint of «starving to death» because her woman hasn’t cooked her dinner, and the production’s entire undertone, which is more or less an excuse to show hot chicks making out, couldn’t be any more stereotypically gendered. It’s entertainment, sure. But if The Real L Word wanted lesbians to be seen as real people, for real—maybe it should have stripped away the pseudo-«reality» and shown real life.

Jessica Bennett is a senior writer covering culture and society. Find her on Twitter.

In the summer of 2010, Showtime premiered the pilot of The Real L Word, a reality spinoff of The L Word, which had ended the year before. I didn’t watch the spinoff at the time, but I was aware of it. Two years before, I’d binge-watched all of The L Word, streamed illegally, while I was studying abroad in Spain and essentially friendless. I was watching the show years too late to have any frenzied «Did you see last night’s episode?» conversations with anyone, so I went in search of recaps (and their many ensuing comments).

I began a covert relationship with lesbian websites AfterEllen and then brand-new Autostraddle. I had nothing against either site, obviously—I just wasn’t gay, and I worried that if people saw my screen they might get the wrong idea. I just liked The L Word. And Tegan and Sara. And I really wanted Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson to make it work. But it didn’t mean anything.

For similar reasons, I considered entering the «reality» L Word universe a bridge too far. It was one thing to speed through six seasons of a lesbian-focused fictional drama in the dark of my tiny bedroom in my host mom’s apartment in Madrid, but it was another to watch a show about actual lesbians while at home in Minnesota. Plus, I was too afraid to pirate television in my home country, so close to the police. So I forgot about it. Over the next few years, I kept reading what I self-consciously referred to as «my lesbian sites,» feeling more like a voyeur than someone who belonged there.

Then, in 2015, I came out as gay. It felt startling and swift, like plunging into water. But when I thought about it, I’d been standing around on the diving board for seven or eight years.

In the nearly two years since, I have fallen in love and moved in with my girlfriend. I have made friends with several lesbian and queer-identified women and tried as hard as I can, without being too creepy, to make more. It’s not enough. I’m greedy. I want a lesbian gang. I want a queer community so big and so messily intertwined we fill up a whole bar. I want my own «real» L Word. But the closest I’ve been able to get is watching the one on television.

In case you are interested, covertly or not, all three seasons of The Real L Word are currently available to stream on ShowtimeAnytime, which I discovered two months ago when I decided to rewatch The L Word. I abandoned the latter for the former, both because I wanted something new (to me), and because I wanted to watch real, actual queer women hang out and hook up. Make no mistake: The Real L Word is not «good»—it’s heavily produced, certainly scripted in parts, outdated, and sometimes exploitative of its stars—but it is about real, actual queer women, talking, laughing, loving, breathing, fighting, fucking, crying, drinking (etc.), and it’s the only one we have.

Watching The Real L Word seven years after it first aired allows me to enjoy it for what it is—a cultural relic. I do not watch it with a critical eye because it is, in TV terms, old, and because I started it expecting very little. My girlfriend, in fact, refuses to watch the show again with me; she watched the first season in 2010, but gave up when the show aired a pornographic strap-on sex scene between Whitney and Romi. For her, a woman who’s been out and craving representation since she was 14, The Real L Word is an embarrassment. It is every worst lesbian (and female) stereotype smashed together, wearing a fedora and a technicolor tattoo sleeve.

But for me, a first-time consumer of the show in 2017, it is virtually all I could ask for. Watching The Real L Word gives me a sense of queer friendship and sex and drama—a surface-level exploration to be sure, but something I haven’t yet found off-screen. When considered as a representation of the queer community at large, the show is inadequate and limited (the cast—though much improved upon the entirely femme and almost entirely white L Word cast—is fairly homogenous), but when viewed purely as a depiction of eight or ten lesbians’ overlapping lives, it satisfies my desire to simply watch queer women exist.

I am 30 now, and while I would rather die than start going out to gay clubs and partying and getting myself mixed up in lesbian love triangles, I kind of wish that I already had. By the time I came out, I was ready to be settled, to go to bed at 10 (or 9:30) with the same person every night. My modest early-20s partier window has long since passed, and I can’t help but feel that I wasted it on heterosexuality.

When I watch Whitney juggle Sada and Tor and Romi and Rachel and Jaq and then Sada again, I do not admire her, or wish I was her friend, but there is a part of me that wishes I knew her once, if only to have had access to that kind of gossip. I wish that I had once been part of a circle like theirs. When I watch Saj and Chanel declare their love for each other on their second date, I think how sweet, how 22-year-old of them. When I watch the «Pants vs. Pumps Throwdown» in season two (a sort of butch-vs-femme competition Whitney creates that incorporates relay races and wrestling in chocolate syrup), I think, sure, that classification is a little reductive. But I also think God, that looks fun. I wish I’d been there. Watching The Real L Word lets me pretend, for an hour at a time, that I was.

Follow Katie Heaney on Twitter.