I woke up yesterday just like I always do in the “JvS Truman Show-10th arrondisement edition” with my morning coffee, my morning vomit, and a trip to the boulangerie.
Only this time something seemed a bit off. Gone were the tired disheveled dads running to drop off their kids at school; gone were their wives asking me to sign anti-OGM or anti-TAFTA petitions, and gone were the ennuie filled high school kids already locked out of their first class and already smoking heavy joints to compensate.
Crossing me instead were fresh looking Swedish families with blond kids strapped to their backs, Barcelona hipsters drifting home from an after, old Brits in white sneakers rolling their suitcases from Gare du Nord looking lost, and an a middle-aged American couple with matching berets just in front of me in line with those “OMG these tarte aux fraises are beautiful!” smiles.
It was then that I realized there’d been a casting change.
Unlike Truman, who doesn’t know he’s living in a TV show until the end, I’ve always been lucid of my situation. I know that “JvS Truman Show-10th arrondisement edition” has been a long running series now for ten years, that it’s fairly popular, and I am its current star.
I also know the producers responsible for this casting change is the production company currently know as Airbnb, who for the past two or three years now, have deftly managed to surgically alter supporting casts throughout the world during the summer months of July and August, and in doing so, have often transformed tired and depressing sitcoms into something entertaining and nouveau.
The recipe is fairly simple actually. Replace a star with an exotic outsider, inject him into the life of the neighborhood like a fish out of water and watch the craziness ensue. The hope is that the character is interesting enough to keep the audience glued during the off-season, at least until the star returns.
But this year the producers seem even more aggressive. Perhaps it’s just a power move in the current French intermitent stand off - I don’t know, but I do have the impression the changes being put in place aren’t just for the short term. If you’ve just joined JvS Truman Show – 10th arrondisement edition” it’s doubtful you’d notice any big changes. The sets are pretty much the same, and so is my dashing appearance J But if you’re a veteran watcher, the changes are palpable. First of all, everybody seems to be up getting up later in the morning, which has lead me to be more amenable. There are more outdoor drinking scenes and aperos as well - during the week even, which I have been participating in with gusto and which has dramatically boosted my spirits.
Plus the ambiance on the street is calmer. There are less screaming kids for one (this is a group of intermittants who routinely leave at the end of June anyway for another show called Vacances Chez mamie) and there’s a lot less cars, replaced by bikes with giant wooden cases on the front wheels (brought in by the Swedish parents and a sponsor I think). There’s also a different lighting in the neighborhood giving the show an estival charm. It’s as if “JvS Truman Show-10th arrondisement edition” was trying to mimic Plus belle la vie.
The hope is that with the changes, I’ll be more convivial, more of a neighbor, more engaged and relaxed, and by surrounding me with smiling Danes, naïve Americans, and less drug temptation, the old John will reappear. It’s a sharp idea I must admit, and a change of pace from my normal role of expat/fool of neighborhood/hiding from situations/outcast who laughs through difficult situations he doesn’t understand but he himself has created by accident. And frankly, that character was getting old anyway.
Just today, I suprised myself by walking in full sight for the first time in a long time. I even stopped at the café to chat with my new neighbors who looked at bit lost on set.
“Are you new to the neighborhood?” I asked them while quickly looking back at the camera and smiling.
“Yes” they said.
“Do you have a petition for me to sign?”
“A petition?” they responded blankly, “No. Why?”
“Good,” I replied. “Now you’ll find this neighborhood has much to offer….” and I escorted them around the streets, gladly introducing them to all the local merchants.
The merchants seem mixed about this casting change. They have enthusiastic new customers who are ready to buy and excited to eat, but the constant questions in English like “What’s the difference between Andouille et Andouillette?” seems to grate on them. That said, the scenes are fairly comical, so the merchants have been asked to play along.
My big worry is what will happen when I leave in August and how the audience will react to the new John taking my place. Word has it he’s an Airbnb client as well - his name is Gonzalo, and that he’s quite handsome. Will they find him kind and polite, worldly and seductive? And if so, what the fuck does this mean for me?
Currently I’m in Spain and Portugal, having been asked to join a pilot called John von Sothen -Portugal and Spain unleashed which will be more of the same the producers tell me; John in Spain and Portugal, in the role of expat/fool of neighborhood/hiding from situations/an outcast who laughs through difficult situations he doesn’t understand but he himself has created. And like the show here, it’ll be an Airbnb production.
Although I haven’t yet seen the scripts, I know I’m set to play across a Lisbon neighbor whom I’ll see on the “palier” each day. The neighbor I’m told will then go to work and tell his friends about me and say he’s not sure if I’m French or American, probably American because I talk too loud for a French person. He will complain to his friends at work about how I’ve already had to buzz his apartment late at night twice, because I’ve lost the keys. The audience loves scenes like this.
I saw in one of the scripts that after the customary awkward one-week phase there will be a period of détente, followed by an invitation for us to apero at their place. We’ll get closer and my Lisbon neighbor will then feel comfortable enough to take me to a place where the cameras can’t film us to tell me in all secrecy that his previous neighbor was kicked off the show because he wasn’t participating enough in the life of the neighborhood, that he didn’t sign the petitions, and that he even stopped having coffees with the parents from school. He’ll go on to tell me that after several threats went unheeded, the producers decided to replace him with a stupid American. Hence me.
I’ll then thank him for his warning and return to my Lisbon flat in a cold sweat realizing I need to improve my attitude once I get back to Paris or “JvS Truman Show-10th arrondisement edition will be canceled.
The producers at Airbnb have made it clear to me in their not-so-subtle way that we’re all replaceable. That they’re tired of the constant complaining and allergies and our fatalistic outlook and that they’re tired of having to cut to a commercial because the hero again is faking like he’s on the cell phone in order to avoid saying hi to people.
It’s all about the “relance” they tell me, that they want to see the “pre-crise” John, the one with hope and smiles and republican charm. If not, my character can easily be replaced and the show quickly changed to Gonzalo – 10th arrondisement – the Spanish remix.
Lights camera, action folks and don’t forget the 507 hours you need John. It’s an Aibnb production, and c’est arrive prez de chez vous.