
It says a lot that in this edition there are up to three weekly installments of The island of temptations. You have to take the audience as they come Big Brother “the most spectacular edition to date.” Telecinco, without finding its way to that white and familiar programming, is trapped in the Bermuda Triangle of sensationalism (Big Brother, Fridayand the program in question).
The first program is always the weakest. We must present all these clones that within a week will have displaced in our minds the hundred participants whose problems we followed from home, over pizzas and beers, in groups or alone. The island…as First datesIt’s a program that grows when seen in company. It’s a gossip program, and gossip that isn’t shared doesn’t exist.
In the presentations of this edition, there is a greater presence of the participants’ families, spoiler genetic for a purrela who only thinks about her body and face. For a second it seemed to me that the father of one of them (Juanpi) was the editor Constantino Bértolo. But no, it wasn’t. He was another father of all those who – we don’t know exactly why – gave in to the request to appear on television talking about the values that their sons and daughters have, those who in a few hours will be lying with strangers before the eyes of hundreds of thousands of Spaniards, including cousins, bosses, schoolmates, neighbors, work friends and the blind man who came to repair the living room window in March.
After the family time, now on the island, I ask myself the same thing I ask myself every year: where do the competitors get the money for their beauty operations? Within minutes of starting I see grafted hair, breast implants, rhinoplasty, laminated eyebrows, elevation of eyelashes, lips with acid. A fortune in installments, for what? Go cry for one resort tropical. Because in this program there is a lot of crying, all the time. They cry when they arrive, they cry when they leave. They cry at breakfast, in the despondency of drunkenness. They cry at bonfires, at meetings, on beaches and in those monumental hangovers that we don’t see, but that they certainly have. In this first program I saw them cry while posing as they should (one leg in front of the other, body in three quarters and looking straight ahead). One of them was rubbing his girlfriend while she cried because they were going to be apart for a few weeks. Another cried as she remembered how much they loved each other. Couples who have been together, on average, for two years and who have the habit of saying “my partner of two years”, as if they were degenerates.
I also wonder which criminal-friendly stylist dresses and does Sandra Barneda’s hair, today dressed in a marine costume with fishing net and everything.
When separated by houses, the suitors arrive, and the much-celebrated moment of introductions. Things like “I’m looking forward to going to the pool with you/to show you my dick underwater” or “I’m a cop and I never leave the house without my gun/but if you touch him… be careful, he’ll shoot himself.” Creations that we want to believe are typical of singles, but that in reality are the product of the invention of those lucky editors chosen for glory. Among the singles, I highlight Melchor, with his look and air as president of the Taburete Fan Club. At first glance I would say that he has no future, but that is precisely why I trust his candidacy.
At the girls’ house, Sandra asks one of the boys what he likes most about his girlfriend; “It’s really good,” he says without blushing. Even his colleagues laugh at the beautiful man sculpted by the gods or dermo-aesthetic clinics. The others focus on the alarm (transformed in this edition into a luminous apple). “The mythical alarm… if I have a hammer, I will break it.” Everyone is ready to visit the exciting version of Casa Guasa.
This group of people who in one or two years were capable of being unfaithful on several occasions, but who propose, cry (of course) and imagine themselves together, creating churumbels and maintaining for the rest of their lives a happiness that they are unable to maintain for more than a weekend. People who run towards the horizon without knowing whether they want to or not. People who feel, who feel a lot and who can never verbalize (and therefore analyze) their own circumstances. People who in a few weeks will be part of our lives, even if in a few months we forget them.