So The Real World Homecoming ends, as it began: with tears, hugs, and extremely on-the-nose music cues. Gin Blossoms’ “Found Out About You” scores a montage of the moments we’ve shared over these last six weeks: belly laughs over pizza, a bar in a rolling suitcase, a joyful squirt-gun fight, Julie and Norman taking the Nestea Plunge into what must be an absolute petri dish of a ball pit, Eric revealing his Covid diagnosis over the Magic Screen. For the original seven strangers, it has been an eventful five days.
And honestly, those of us who were glued to the first season of The Real World back in the day, who tucked in for countless weekend marathons, who remember specific moments and lines as clearly as if they’d happened in our own real worlds, we really did find out about these people. We learned that wide-eyed Julie has evolved into a wise, savvy, take-charge adult. We learned that Norman faced rejection from all sides after coming out on television but continues to bounce back. We learned that everything Kevin said in 1992 was right on the money. We learned that Becky’s personal work to fight racism begins and ends with an Afro-Brazilian dance class. We learned that Andre is kind of a cool Echo Park dad now, that Heather has parlayed a great personality into a massive radio career, and that Eric is a natural healer and good-vibes merchant who appears to do mushrooms at the professional level. What could have been a cheap and simple cash-in reunion has turned out to be revelatory, unmissable television, and I’m as surprised as you are.
The finale begins with Kevin, frustrated after yet another exasperating conversation with Becky. An attempt at detente in last week’s episode ended with her hanging up on him, and now he’s just had it. “Will I reach out again,” he says, “after being hung up on? No, I’m good.” And the rest of the gang rallies around him. Heather gets him some water. Norman says: “You’re out there getting pulled over by the police, and I’m skipping to the lou.” This can’t have been easy for Kevin, but I hope he knows how many important, difficult, edifying conversations he’s sparked.
Eric applauds the difficult parts of the reunion journey as part of a larger process: “There’s a creator, and a source, and a master plan.” I’m going to ask a general question right now, and I don’t mean it in a hotsy-totsy Rue McClanahan kind of way, I swear: is there a way for me to engage the services of Eric Nies? Surely there is some kind of life-coach element to his career right now, and I’m certain it’s blowing up now that this show is airing, but after this last fourteen months I feel like I could benefit from some time in his presence. His evolution is really interesting when you think about it: in 1992, he was a model, selling clothing and fragrance by way of physical perfection, promising a sexier life for you just by standing there with his chest and his lips, seducing by existing. Inside, he was struggling, and since then he’s done what seems like a lot of internal work, and now, just by being serene and stable, he’s a model of a better, more centered life. He’s gone around the world to arrive at a healthier version of the same place. I could stand a few one-on-one sessions, and again, it only sounds like I’m fanning myself with my hand when I say this. I’m not. I’m really not.
One of my favorite things about season one of The Real World is when the gang stormed the control room on the last night in the loft. It was not only interesting to catch a glance at the internal workings of the show, it not only felt like it was cathartic for the cast. Most importantly, in retrospect, it’s evidence that these were the last seven Real World cast members to even acknowledge people other than themselves. Can you imagine a Flora willingly giving anyone else any camera time? A Sean? Preposterous. Anyway, we look back at that moment, and then the secret surprise guest of the finale is revealed, and it’s…the producers of season one. Disappointing for those of us who were expecting CeCe Peniston, but we’ll take it. The gang seems to have real affection for Jonathan Murray and George Verschoor, which I feel like is not the case for at least a few later cast members, and the producers seem to genuinely love them back. It’s nice, and it’s nice to see niceness, particularly on the premiere week of Gutfeld!.
The producers talk a lot about how they too were flying blind in season one, about how hard it was to force the worlds of documentary and soap opera together. But Murray says even though he expected conflict to drive the drama, he and his late producing partner Mary-Ellis Bunim had “the liberal idea that if you get to know people and you let your guard down, you’ll find you have more in common than not in common.” It’s a sweet thought, and I hate that a few years down the line, some executive stepped in and said, “Yes, but let’s add a hot tub.”
Heather does have one issue with the first season, and it’s that her father was completely edited out of the final product. She and her father were tight, and the producers didn’t know what to do with that kind of relationship, so they skipped over it. We get to see some of those deleted scenes, and while they would have been a sweet addition to the show, MTV has always been terrified of showing old people who weren’t mean old high school principals in a Mötley Crüe video, so it makes sense they weren’t there. But Heather insists that these are stories that need telling. “There’s another Black girl out there with a relationship with her father that comes on The Real World. Tell her story. Don’t do that to the next girl.” I can’t disagree, and also I’m not sure whether The Real World is still on.
Murray credits Norman with being ahead of his time, and while it’s still not entirely clear who gave Norman the label of “bisexual,” it definitely got him in hot water with the gay community. Today, kids are more fluid with their sexual and gender identity, but back then it was a different story, and I will repeat my assertion that Norman is a queer icon and deserves to be the Grand Marshall in every Pride parade once we can do them in person again.
Heather has been keeping daily lists of What She Knows and What She’s Learned, and what she learned on the last night in the loft is that for all Julie’s cunning and control-freakiness, Heather can actually hide stuff from her. She pulls a massive steamer trunk out into the living room, opens it, and it contains both a birthday party for Julie and some information as to when this whole thing went down, as Julie’s birthday is in late January. Norman gives her a vintage denim jacket from season one (with what I think is a Season 2 logo?), Andre serenades, Julie cries a lot.
So this is it. The gang packs up their duffle bags, guitar cases, and rolling wet bars to exit 565 Broadway for the last time. Kevin says he got to know the other six roommates better over the five days of the reunion than the whole three months of the original filming, “because this time I was listening.” Becky says she’s glad she came back, but it’s over now, and she tells whatever poor producer was forced to do her interview to “go on and create another genre.” Becky, as always, is not listening.
There are few immutable truths in this world, but this is one of them: as the original Real World cast leaves the loft for the last time, it must be set to Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over.” No other song will do, I’m sorry! And even though 2021 is not 1992, and people can keep in touch in countless new ways, it’s really true: these seven people won’t be back in this place in this way ever again. This reunion comes at the end (it is the end, right? Right?) of a long, lonely lockdown. I have not hugged my mother since Christmas 2019, and time has never felt less like a guarantee. Physical closeness with the people we love has never been more precious, and as it sits tantalizingly just out of reach, it’s not unusual to get a little teary over it (is what I’m telling myself). It’s natural to feel actual sadness as they say goodbye, even if you know they’re all on a group text and can get back into the loft anytime they want, because there’s no way it’s not currently a WeWork.
Heather says that there’s something about the original seven that is always, and she says this deliberately, “TO…BE…CONTINUED.” And like a Marvel movie, there’s a post-credits deleted scene, a moment from the end of the original season, in which Julie says, “You could just stop the camera right now and it would be a cliffhanger, and we could just keep going with these same people.” So will there be more? Probably not, but I’d watch. Like, even if Julie just wants to get drunk on Twitch once a month, count me in.
So this has been a hell of a ride, and it ends on a very sweet and relevant note: You can’t waste time. Once the world opens up, go see the people you care about. FaceTimes and Zooms have been indispensable, but The Real World Homecoming proves a very analog point in a very digital year: there’s magic in physical closeness. I hope we all get to experience it very soon.
Until then, thanks for reading. This has been a real pleasure, and I’m not just being polite. Best wishes, safe travels, and break out.
Dave Holmes is an editor-at-large for Esquire.com, host of the Earwolf podcast Homophilia, and his memoir Party of One is in stores now. He also hosts the Real World podcast Truu Stowray, available wherever you get your podcasts.
Watch The Real World: Homecoming Season Finale (“From The Real World To The New World”) on Paramount+