The show is about two former friends who stopped talking after one allegedly slept with the other's boyfriend. Each now has a different group of friends who comfort them as they talk about it endlessly. "Anybody who tells you, 'I hate drama, I hate drama'—they're lying," one of the interchangeable friends says. "Everybody loves drama. Nobody's life would be exciting without drama." (She says this with a slur; the drama here is Corona-fueled, and there's some pretty serious alcohol abuse on display in one of the show's few examples of southern Brooklyn authenticity.) "Everybody Loves Drama," in fact, is the name of this pilot episode; I was reminded of the famous quote oft misattributed to Eleanor Roosevelt: "Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people."
The show is the latest example of the ordinary person elevated to celebrity, the girls at the end of the bar now with their own TV show. (Indeed, one of the main characters works at a bar not far from my house; "I hate this neighborhood, I hate everybody in it," she says while pouring beers, speaking like a true Bay Ridgeite.) This isn't a new phenomenon on television, but it's so specific and hyperlocal here that it's interesting, at least for Brooklynites, from that perspective. Otherwise, these just seem like more people who progressed effortlessly from living their lives under the influence of reality television, according to its tropes, to living it under the direction of a manipulative reality-television producer. "It's all baby games," says one of the managers of an auto-glass shop (who function sort of like the shoeshine guy in Police Squad). Right on, man.
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