In order for camp, as a genre, to be truly enjoyable it needs to rely on the naïveté of its subjects. It needs to be unintentional Like on the first season of Dance Moms, when kiddie choreographer Abby Lee Miller and the moms whose children are enrolled in her studio didn't realize just how fucking ridiculous they were placing emphasis on pre-teens' sexiness; their "ethnic" dance routines; or getting in drunken arguments that make children cry. They took everything so seriously. They were like characters in a Christopher Guest film—except even better because it was real life. The entertainment value of the show was totally wrapped up in their delusional idea that a woman in suburban Pittsburgh could make their children stars.
Kinja is in read-only mode. We are working to restore service.