'Television Fans' and critics rag on Reality TV all the time, even though ultimately such shows are really just souped up Game Shows. How many times have you heard that Game Shows are ruining TV? So let's give Reality TV a break and applaud those particular examples that boil the concept down to its essence: crazy boozers all cooped-up and driving each other bonkers in the pursuit of money. Even though I'm already slobbering for season two of Rock of Love, I'm betting in the long run it will have a short shelf life. Reason being Rock of Love is so distilled into Reality TV perfect-ness that to enjoy it is akin to guzzling straight Everclear, which I'm told is unadvisable.

Rock of Love With Bret Michaels follows the (in)famous Poison front man as he searches for a rockin' chick who will be there for him when he steps off the tour bus, after shagging groupies nine months out of the year. Poison, the quintessence of '80s LA hair metal, caught the world's ear with Every Rose Has Its Thorn, and the 25 lovely (and not-so-lovely) roses Michaels assembles have multiple chances to show their thorns as they duke it out through various challenges, in hopes of winning dates with the singer, and the ultimate prize of rocking his world as his girlfriend. With all the usual VH-1/Surreal Life reality trappings - horrible dorm-like house in the Hollywood Hills, endless supplies of liquor, skanks eager to debase themselves on TV and silly challenges - the best ingredient of Rock of Love is the nebulous prize. No money is offered, no marriage proposal, just the undefined possibility of being Bret's girlfriend. At series-end you'll be hard pressed to even discern the winner's spoils, other than an ephemeral title and bragging rights for making it the longest through the beautiful ordeal. In other words, this is the pure stuff!

So what makes Rock of Love so good? If like me you're new to the show, you'll first have to make it through severe shock - actually a good thing, riveting but too horrifying to look away from - as the contestants launch straight into shrill, skanktastic drunken lunacy without batting any eyelashes. These women get stupid-plowed so fast it's astounding, inspiring my unused gonzo review technique; taping and transcribing the shocked cries and profanities coming from me and my wife. Soon enough the silly challenges come into play, but they're secondary to the alcoholic activities, impromptu stripping, vicious internecine harassment and sleaze filled dates with Michaels. The fact that these set-ups are so far removed from reality seems to liberate the women from all propriety, and it's awesome. But for what it's worth, motocross challenges (funnier than you'd think), album cover shoots (priceless), write-a-rock-songs (abysmal), and gimmicky tour bus aptitude tests (complete with crotch-less panties) are featured as a way to move the action along and generate reasons to boot skanks from the house.

And what skanks they are - at least some of them. There's a high initial component of ladies present just to party hardy, with strong currents of 'back-stage-lovin'' skeeziness, all of which supplies plenty of train-wreck-shameful entertainment. But with the winnowing, characters emerge, most notably sweet and innocent Samantha, flinty stripper Heather and sociopathic Lacey (a gal who eats guys like Jonny Fairplay of Survivor fame for breakfast, but doesn't see anything wrong with it). Lacey's clashes with every other girl form some high reality-drama, and Michaels' attempts to sort it all out are the backbone of the real reason Rock of Love rocks viewers like a hurricane. (Don't send me emails, I know that's from The Scorpions ...)

Michaels comes across almost as an innocent bystander during Rock of Love. He clearly knows he's become a different animal due to huge success, and that animal is a party animal. "When I get to partying," he says, "I just have to keep on partying." It's an ethos fueling the engine of the show, leading to probable late night three-ways with contestants, among other things. But the huge surprise is, even for an avowed Rock God who flat out admits he won't be faithful on the road, Michaels presents a strangely unaffected nice-guy persona. He's pretty smart, funny, sweet, likable and ridiculously diplomatic. He genuinely seems to care about the final half-dozen women, is intent on figuring them out, and appears totally befuddled with their erratic behavior. Sometimes boxing to vent frustrations, sometimes holding a puking date's head over the toilet, he's never pompous - always personable, and he totally doesn't have to be that way, so we must assume he's just a really nice guy.

Rock of Love with Bret Michaels is a reality revelation, possibly the sleaziest reality show ever, but with a genuine heart of gold. It's shamefully addictive viewing, deliciously shocking, and through the grace of Michaels' decent personality it never seems degrading. (OK, maybe the Vegas booze-a-thon, but on the whole ... ) The Complete First Season box set only disappoints with a semi-paltry set of extras and by dint of the fact that, even though the set is unrated, all nudity and profanity is bleeped and blurred out. What's-a goin' on, ladies?

The DVD

Video:
Rock of Love is a fullscreen presentation, in the 1.33:1 ratio of its original television broadcast on the VH-1 network. The picture is pristine and clear, with little evidence of compression artifacts (four of the 13 total 43-minute episodes are on each of three disks, except disk three with five episodes and extras). Colors are nicely recreated and natural - a boon considering all the flesh on display. The show's numerous night scenes usually have lots of candlelight, but the blacks are nevertheless deep.

Sound:
Dolby Digital Stereo Audio is unremarkable in terms of sound design. Lots of rock music and screaming women that would probably seem just as dynamic in mono are the order of the day. In truth, you aren't watching this to hear high-fidelity Poison songs, but otherwise all dialog, screaming and puking is mixed for maximum audibility.

Extras:
Six individual Extra Features, ranging from three-and-a-half to about six-and-a-half-minutes-long are included, for a total of about half-an-hour's worth of bonus goodies. No commentaries or behind-the-scenes documentaries are found. First up is over six minutes of extra Phone Sex challenge material, all excruciating but hilarious. Oddly, this extra and the rest are unedited, so all the swears are intact, but nudity is still blurred. Next is about five minutes of a Late Night Food Fight which is so funny it's curious why it didn't make it into the series proper (other than the Clips Show episode). Three-and-a-half minutes of HeatherCam (Heather with a mini-DV recorder) has mostly the sad sight of Lacey streaking for Animal Rights, not too funny, but pretty uncomfortable. Lacey is just wrong for so many reasons. Bret's Sexy Sing-A-Long finds Michaels hammering Every Rose into the heads of the full complement of ladies, as they try to join in. For obvious reasons, it should be called the Sucky Sing-A-Long. The "Get It On" Music Video is equally egregious and alluring, and finally a five minute Supertrailer sums up the series, if you want to relive what you've just seen on ultra-fast forward.

Final Thoughts:
Lovers of Reality (or CelebReality) TV will gobble up Rock of Love with Bret Michaels like cold, greasy pizza in the backstage dressing room. Just please, don't guzzle half a bottle of Jaegermesiter like Lacey. Rock of Love purifies Reality TV - the logical offshoot of the Game Show - into its basest and most entertaining elements: get a bunch of skanks, schemers, and innocent victims together, fill them full of booze and set the pressure-cooker on high. While the individual pieces would seem to point toward degradation of the highest order, the presence of Michaels himself counter-intuitively grounds the show in the realm of genius. Michaels is just so dang likable! I can't say I'll ever watch the series again, (though I'm chomping at the bit for Season 2 to make it to DVD) and I'm a bit miffed that an unrated series is edited for language and nudity, so it's probably best treated as a marathon rental. But even still, because it's soooo entertaining, I'll say it's Recommended. Now if I could just get Every Rose Has Its Thorn out of my head.

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