So this s**t got pretty weird.
Kylie Jenner tries and fails to rescue her image, and in the process offers a glimpse into the life of somebody who epitomises the notion that you cannot buy happiness. No matter how pink your car or tight your waist, joy is in the people that surround you, and Kylie's people are her employees. I wouldn't call her to hang out, says her PA Victoria, who Kylie lists as one of her two friends in the final episode. Victoria is often exasperated by Kylie, and speaks of her as one would a misbehaving toddler, or somebody a bit slow you are obligated to take care of. Somebody she feels a little sorry for. While KUWTK is sort of grounded in the importance of family, no matter how dysfunctional, life of Kylie fails to feature any of the eponymous heroine's kin, aside from a mother who is represented in a less than flattering light. Kendall is more often slammed than praised, which seems to give valence to the internet's tendency towards ranking the two (a comparison where Kendall inevitably wins the popular vote). Even favourite sister Khloe fails to make an appearance, and one is forced to assume Kylie wasn't willing to pay enough money for her sisters to support her solo foray into reality television. This knowledge seems to isolate our heroine further. Say what you will about the shallow fame seeking family born of a sex tape to tell us all to cinch our waists, one of the less artificial things about them is the bond they share. Here they are conspicuous in their absence.
Kylie herself is so desperately out of touch it hurts a bit. On KUWTK she once said that she wasn't made to be famous, and you can see what she means. She's not very good at it, and she doesn't seem to enjoy it much. Pining for a 'normal life' while cradled in the lap of luxury is so cliché as to almost be stripped of being offensive. Almost. It doesn't stop this unemployed writer from being a little nauseous at the poor little rich girl narrative it recycles.
While being able to empathise with sick children and hare-lipped babies, she treats other people as props, or toys, or dancing monkeys. She likes them to be cute and adorable and people she can feel sorry for, like the unpopular boy she takes to prom in what is possibly the show's most painful episode. But her fundamental inability to see people as individual protagonists of their own story, as opposed to surfaces on which to cast her shadow, is thrown into relief in the interactions between her and her bestie.
The series is centered on her friendship with sidekick Jordyn, possibly because ex boyfriend and first love Tyga jumped ship. But Jordyn, the unwilling sidechick, is a poor substitute for a love story. Heartbroken about the loss of her father, she begrudgingly follows Kylie to a series of social engagements and production led 'adventures' (I use the term in its loosest sense). By the end of the series you just want to give her a big cuddle, or a strong shake. She is the more interesting of the two, but her wistfulness and her codependent relationship to the non-Kardashian Kardashian make it hard to really like Jordyn. One can't help but pity her, Kylie's c*m bucket, the anchor for a person who has lost touch with reality, or perhaps never really had it. The apotheosis of this is the last episode of the series, the one where a sort of lame show about a lonely rich girl turns into a weird narrative about somebody marrying their abuser. After a heartfelt one on one with momager Kris, and seven episodes of confessionals about how lost she feels in Kylie's life, Jordyn confronts her master, trying to reclaim the pieces of herself she feels she lost. Trying to ask her best friend for some space, and time to live her own life. Kylie responds by saying that she, Kylie (who else could this be about) already spends too much time alone, and seems deaf to Jordyn's overtures. A small tiff, where Jordyn walks on eggshells and stutters her concerns amid compliments and vows of eternal love gives way to the next scene, which is where things really start to go weird. We're getting married, they inform a baffled Kris Jenner, but it's not a gay thing. One can only assume that rapper Tyga was destined for this unenviable fate, and when he failed to comply, Jordyn was forced to be the sacrificial alpaca. Either way, the two exchange vows, hours after Jordyn tries to tell her that she needs more space, that she doesn't know who she is without Kylie (it's interesting here that Jordyn always refers to Kylie as 'her' and 'she', conferring both a demi-god quality to Her, and giving her a slight touch of Voldemort). Kylie and Jordyn get married in a naffy ceremony in the hope of conferring this shallow, hollow television show some pathos. Needless to say this gambit doesn't just fail, it brings home how fake, empty and a little desperate the life of Kylie really is.
Kylie bashing seems a little too easy after watching her train wreck of a show. But it's hard not to feel contempt for such a puerile exercise in vanity, stripped of any authenticity or heart. The best we can hope for Kylie is that she comes around to her life of fame and possibly is allowed to name her latest rapper boyfriend in any future publicity stunt (his absence fails to intrigue to the point of even googling who the hapless man-accessory might be. I just don't care who she's boffing). The best we can hope for Jordyn is that she moves to London under a fake name and that Kylie never finds her.
Kylie Jenner tries and fails to rescue her image, and in the process offers a glimpse into the life of somebody who epitomises the notion that you cannot buy happiness. No matter how pink your car or tight your waist, joy is in the people that surround you, and Kylie's people are her employees. I wouldn't call her to hang out, says her PA Victoria, who Kylie lists as one of her two friends in the final episode. Victoria is often exasperated by Kylie, and speaks of her as one would a misbehaving toddler, or somebody a bit slow you are obligated to take care of. Somebody she feels a little sorry for. While KUWTK is sort of grounded in the importance of family, no matter how dysfunctional, life of Kylie fails to feature any of the eponymous heroine's kin, aside from a mother who is represented in a less than flattering light. Kendall is more often slammed than praised, which seems to give valence to the internet's tendency towards ranking the two (a comparison where Kendall inevitably wins the popular vote). Even favourite sister Khloe fails to make an appearance, and one is forced to assume Kylie wasn't willing to pay enough money for her sisters to support her solo foray into reality television. This knowledge seems to isolate our heroine further. Say what you will about the shallow fame seeking family born of a sex tape to tell us all to cinch our waists, one of the less artificial things about them is the bond they share. Here they are conspicuous in their absence.
Kylie herself is so desperately out of touch it hurts a bit. On KUWTK she once said that she wasn't made to be famous, and you can see what she means. She's not very good at it, and she doesn't seem to enjoy it much. Pining for a 'normal life' while cradled in the lap of luxury is so cliché as to almost be stripped of being offensive. Almost. It doesn't stop this unemployed writer from being a little nauseous at the poor little rich girl narrative it recycles.
While being able to empathise with sick children and hare-lipped babies, she treats other people as props, or toys, or dancing monkeys. She likes them to be cute and adorable and people she can feel sorry for, like the unpopular boy she takes to prom in what is possibly the show's most painful episode. But her fundamental inability to see people as individual protagonists of their own story, as opposed to surfaces on which to cast her shadow, is thrown into relief in the interactions between her and her bestie.
The series is centered on her friendship with sidekick Jordyn, possibly because ex boyfriend and first love Tyga jumped ship. But Jordyn, the unwilling sidechick, is a poor substitute for a love story. Heartbroken about the loss of her father, she begrudgingly follows Kylie to a series of social engagements and production led 'adventures' (I use the term in its loosest sense). By the end of the series you just want to give her a big cuddle, or a strong shake. She is the more interesting of the two, but her wistfulness and her codependent relationship to the non-Kardashian Kardashian make it hard to really like Jordyn. One can't help but pity her, Kylie's c*m bucket, the anchor for a person who has lost touch with reality, or perhaps never really had it. The apotheosis of this is the last episode of the series, the one where a sort of lame show about a lonely rich girl turns into a weird narrative about somebody marrying their abuser. After a heartfelt one on one with momager Kris, and seven episodes of confessionals about how lost she feels in Kylie's life, Jordyn confronts her master, trying to reclaim the pieces of herself she feels she lost. Trying to ask her best friend for some space, and time to live her own life. Kylie responds by saying that she, Kylie (who else could this be about) already spends too much time alone, and seems deaf to Jordyn's overtures. A small tiff, where Jordyn walks on eggshells and stutters her concerns amid compliments and vows of eternal love gives way to the next scene, which is where things really start to go weird. We're getting married, they inform a baffled Kris Jenner, but it's not a gay thing. One can only assume that rapper Tyga was destined for this unenviable fate, and when he failed to comply, Jordyn was forced to be the sacrificial alpaca. Either way, the two exchange vows, hours after Jordyn tries to tell her that she needs more space, that she doesn't know who she is without Kylie (it's interesting here that Jordyn always refers to Kylie as 'her' and 'she', conferring both a demi-god quality to Her, and giving her a slight touch of Voldemort). Kylie and Jordyn get married in a naffy ceremony in the hope of conferring this shallow, hollow television show some pathos. Needless to say this gambit doesn't just fail, it brings home how fake, empty and a little desperate the life of Kylie really is.
Kylie bashing seems a little too easy after watching her train wreck of a show. But it's hard not to feel contempt for such a puerile exercise in vanity, stripped of any authenticity or heart. The best we can hope for Kylie is that she comes around to her life of fame and possibly is allowed to name her latest rapper boyfriend in any future publicity stunt (his absence fails to intrigue to the point of even googling who the hapless man-accessory might be. I just don't care who she's boffing). The best we can hope for Jordyn is that she moves to London under a fake name and that Kylie never finds her.