Is Anna Nicole Smith’s series entertaining?
The horror show that is Anna Nicole Smith’s filmed-for-television life continued on Sunday’s second episode. She’s moved into her new Los Angeles house, hired a decorator named Bobby Trendy, visited Trashy Lingerie to dress up like Little Bo Peep, watched herself on ”The Larry King Show,” and, in a rare moment of lucidity, passed judgment on her performance: ”Stupid,” she said. Amen.
It was difficult to say which was more painful to watch: the continued neglect of her teen son, Daniel (the kid looks as if he has to muster up all his nerve just to bring himself to hug his mom on-camera), or the scene in which Smith brought home her legally mandated half of the cremated ashes of her late husband, J. Howard Marshall. Smith lugged the urn around on a tour of the new house, talking to it as though Marshall could hear her: ”Here’s the fireplace… here’s the kitchen…”
No, on second thought, it was her zonked parenting of Daniel that was worse.
On ”The Anna Nicole Show,” Daniel is way down on her list of priorities, but she makes sure the cameras see her weeping over the death of her husband — who knows, it may help secure a bigger chunk of a fortune if a judge with some control over the dead man’s checkbook sees these displays.
In a way, I feel sorry for Smith. Having grown up poor, she became used to the luxury her modeling career, her celebrity, and her golddigging brought her, and now she’s clearly afraid that she won’t be able to maintain the sort of lifestyle that enables her to do nothing more important than contemplate getting a tattoo encircling her navel, or to listen to Bobby Trendy jabber about the ”sumptuous and luxurious” fabrics he’s going to smother her house in.
Is this any way to conduct a life? Is this still entertainment? Are we having fun yet?