Well done cuts the juice of Jesus from Real Housewives of Dallas after 5 seasons
The Real Housewives of Dallas are cordially not invited to the party. Bravo shut down the series after five seasons.
“There are currently no plans to bring The Real Housewives of Dallas back next year, and beyond, nothing official has been decided, ”Bravo said in a statement.
That leaves the door slightly cracked for a comeback, possibly to stream on NBC’s Peacock, as The real housewives of Miami made after being canceled in 2013.
But as News week points out that even a return to the digital realm would likely require a fan campaign, which – with a meager 337,000 viewers for the Season 5 premiere and 578,000 for the season finale in May, a quarter of franchise in New York and Atlanta – is not likely to happen. Especially not in Dallas, which universally impressed the show enough, or gave it the bird altogether.
RHOD launched in Spring 2016 (and CultureMap was there) as a buzzy bubble gum TV – turn your brain off, grab your favorite carbs and a bottle of wine, and spend an hour spotting DFW hotspots and laughing rich Dallas women say Plano. In the first few episodes, we learned about the fun new terms “Jesus juice” (white wine) and “charity world” and raised an eyebrow or two at Botox at the amount of childish “poop and pee” talk we got. have been submitted. (Pour more juice from Jesus! We’re having a great time!)
Despite low marks, RHOD had another season, then another and another. The cast came and went. On screen, they fought like cats and accused each other’s husbands of cheating like dogs; organized parties and threw glasses; drank too much and refused to eat weird food; made trips to Austin and trips to Mexico.
Offscreen, Dallas’ Bravo-lebrities have launched beauty products and jewelry lines, and even a pink dog food brand.
There were some beautiful and meaningful moments, like LeeAnne Locken’s proposal at the State Fair and a sparkling but heartfelt wedding. Stephanie Hollman shared her heartbreaking experiences with suicidal ideation. Brandi Redmond let viewers follow her infertility and adoption journey.
But in the final season – filmed and aired amid the COVID-19 pandemic, economic crisis, racial calculations and a deeply divided political landscape, the show had derailed in a way it could not. not really recover.
In a world of so many harsh realities, this reality TV show didn’t provide the fun, carb-laden, Jesus-laden distraction it might have had. Instead, it became a painstaking exercise in figuring out who could beat the ‘racism’ and ‘non-racism’ and ‘anti-racism’ which, which has spread from screen to social media to tabloids. .
In a year when nonprofits in the Dallas ‘charitable world’ were desperate for funds and local businesses were desperate for buyers, the show threw a long and indulgent birthday party for an actor and women stupidly spank each other with charcuterie boards on a shopping expedition at a local business.
And in an economy where so many workers lost their jobs and struggled to care for their children, viewers were expected to sympathize with a doctor- “housewife,” who is married to a kajiillionaire, about the guilt she felt for want to stay more at home so that you can take your children to the family hotel for snacks.
Viewers were practically shouting, “Look ma’am. Stay home or don’t stay home. Make up your own mind. Your choice, K? BRB, head to the food bank for pickup.”
It seemed, more and more, that this once quite funny and whimsical “fantasy” of the people of Dallas was just a mock drama presented as a source of cheap entertainment in a world and a city, which had grown to more. Things of value. It was not a light escape; it was a cringey crash-and-burn.
So, raise a glass of Jesus Juice for the sake of the first few episodes, and hope the next Dallas show treats the charcuterie boards a little more kind.