METAPHORS AND MEANING IN 'I AM GEORGINA'
In 'I Am Georgina,' we find a reality show stripped of all artifice - Sachin Kureishi
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading The Kureishi Chronicles. I am still unable to use my hands and am writing, via dictation, with the help of my family.
Your contributions go towards my care, which is considerable. If you enjoy my writing, please do consider becoming a paid subscriber.
Below, a contribution from Sachin Kureishi, on the enigmatic, strange reality show starring Cristiano Ronaldo’s partner, ‘I AM GEORGINA’
The third season of the reality TV gem, ‘I Am Georgina’, has dropped on Netflix. If Rotten Tomatoes serves as a cultural thermometer, the show’s lukewarm reception suggests a viewing public increasingly impatient with layered, slow-burn narratives.
The first season received a respectable 21%. Season 2 saw a slight dip to 12%. Season 3 is still yet to receive a score as there’s been fewer than 50 ratings. We’re currently standing at 5. They’re all 1-star. A ‘Jane B’ has said “This woman is truly a waste of space. Arrogant, vacuous and self-absorbed. Cancel her show and do mankind a service!”.
To the casual observer, the show might appear to be just another entry into the everexpanding catalogue of celebrity vanity projects. Chronicling the scintillating life of football’s first lady, Cristiano Ronaldo’s girlfriend, Georgina, the story meanders through her burgeoning modelling career, family obligations, and eye-meltingly profligate shopping sprees.
In 'I Am Georgina,' we find a reality show stripped of all artifice. The celebration of wealth itself is at the core of the program’s ethos; the pursuit of pleasure is both means and an end. Unlike her reality TV peers who cloak their excess in faux-humble pursuits, like starting businesses or selling houses in LA, Georgina’s raison d'être is principally to enjoy, to relish the sheer improbability of her circumstances, as the girlfriend of football’s golden boy.
Though patches of earlier seasons have dragged, those who’ve been patient are now being treated to the show's most intricate and challenging chapters yet. Following Ronaldo's lucrative move to Al Nassr, season three sees our heroine adrift, plucked from her life in Manchester and plunged into a reality TV fever dream, as she must adjust to the petrol-state hellscape of Saudi Arabia.
As a Manchester United fan, I began watching ‘I am Georgina’ out of loyalty to my hero, Ronaldo. In season one, Georgina recounts her serendipitous encounter with the star. In a turn of fate so outlandish it would make Jane Austen spit out her tea, the prince of Madrid wanders into the Gucci store where she works as a sales assistant; struck by cupid’s arrow, the series traces Ronaldo’s efforts to win her affections. Georgina recalls morning commutes on cramped buses, only to be whisked off in the afternoon by Ronaldo in his Bugatti.
By positioning Georgina as the heart of the story, Ronaldo – arguably the world’s most famous and recognisable celebrity – is reduced largely to a Gatsby-esque peripheral figure, a tantalising yet largely unknowable supporting character whose absence amplifies his mystique. Early scenes have the feel of a romantic comedy, as Ronaldo dons a disguise for a public date with Georgina at Disneyland, risking discovery by his fans. It’s sweet and charming, a scene Austen might be more approving of.
Season 3 takes a quietly menacing turn, going where no reality TV show has dared, into a glittering mirage that veils a brutal autocracy. From her golden perch, Georgina offers subtle but chilling sociopolitical commentary. Arriving in Saudi Arabia, she narrates over images of her hanging off Ronaldo’s arm ‘I have achieved a childhood dream. I decide my present’. Then, puzzlingly, we find her in a church, in a confessional style shot of her praying on bended knee, clad in head-to-toe haute couture, ‘I’ve always wanted a beach house’. Then we’re there. A beautiful villa overlooking the sea, Georgina gazing out from a top window.
As Ronaldo’s private jet touches down in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, she tells us, ‘Moving to Saudi, at first, I had ups and downs…’. It’s then we see her as talking head, her usual poise tested as she weighs her next words. Georgina, 30, is striking yet oddly anonymous looking, a product of the ubiquitous Kardashian aesthetic. It reflects her character: open and loquacious; elliptical and guarded. The truth with Georgina can be found only in the gaps and margins. ‘It was hard because I’ve never lived in a hotel that long’, is all she offers as first thoughts on the desert kingdom.
We’re now looking up at an infinitely tall sky-scraper hotel that disappears into the sky. Below, Ronaldo and Georgina appear out of the entrance and climb into the back of a Range Rover. As the car peels off, and we switch to a high angle drone shot, we watch it thread its way through the inky-black, cinder block expanse; a city where light is reserved for the privileged few. The direction is deliberate and assured.
Sitting down for breakfast one morning in the mega mansion she shares with Ronaldo and their five children, Georgina has a problem. Horrifyingly, she has identified the face of the devil in one of the grand marble walls. A friend is instantly summoned to the house. He’s an interior designer or something. Her entourage are a swarm of interchangeable sycophants, all scuttling over each other for a more secure position within her wealthy orbit. The wall has deeply unsettled Georgina, who interprets it as a sinister omen. It’s as if, amidst the opulence and splendour of this new life, malevolence has infiltrated. Despite the incredible expense to Ronaldo’s pocket, the wall must be removed.
Fortunately, Georgina has lots of fun things to look forward to which distract her from the devil. She’s presenting an entertainment awards show cheerily called The Joy Awards. Channelling Audrey Hepburn in a shimmering black gown and white gloves, Georgina arrives at the event and signs autographs for young girls in full Niqab. Calls of ‘Georgina! We love you!’ have been dubbed over. In a surreal twist, England’s thespian treasure Anthony Hopkins crosses paths with Georgina on the red carpet. ‘I should have asked for a photo’, she mutters frustratedly to the camera. Gracing our screens for only a fleeting cameo, I assume he’ll be brought back in a more substantial role for season 4.
The season charts Georgina’s hallucinogenic odyssey through this beguiling new land. She shops for diamond watches; feeds kibble to stray cats in a desolate, sun-scorched park. Another day, she visits the Louvre Abu Dhabi, nodding approvingly at the da Vinci masterpiece on display there. Granting herself some down time, she holidays with Ronaldo and the children by the Red Sea.
With characteristic, almost maddening restraint, the show consistently dances around the edges of truth, offering only glimpses into the depths the creators are surely forbidden from exploring. In an era of Tik-Tok induced attention deficit, ‘I Am Georgina’ dares to slow down, demanding a level of patience and engagement that modern viewers may find anachronistic. As it teases its fourth season, viewers are still grappling with the show’s central enigma. ‘I Am Georgina’ proclaims the series. But who really is that?
Sachin Kureishi
Fantastic. Thank you for watching this so I don't have to. Though as another Georgina, I feel mildly defensive about the whole thing.
Sharp observations. Much more entertaining than poor Georgina, no doubt.