Summary
More of the same, but that’s no bad thing if you’re into it. Sunny, soapy shenanigans ensue.
If you’re anything like me, you’ll hate Instant Hotel Season 2, probably just like you hated the first season. There’s a lot about it to hate, especially the people, a new roster of spatting siblings, spouses, friends, parents, girlfriends, boyfriends and so on, almost all of whom are insufferable or edited to seem insufferable even if they’re alright. It’s the classic reality TV formula, a sunny fusion of stuff like Four in a Bed with Survivor and stocked with generally unlikable people thrust into scenarios specifically designed to make them hate each other. Hatred is common in and around these things. But you can’t help but respect Instant Hotel Season 2 for how capably it taps into that lizard portion of your brain, the bit that makes you wish ill on morons and tune in to watch them squabble amongst themselves.
And there is squabbling aplenty in Instant Hotel Season 2. In case you missed the first go-around, it aired on Netflix at the very end of last year, and as I said in my review, it was just about the best possible version of the worst possible thing. It wasn’t aimed at me and neither is this second season, but it was a breakout hit then and it’ll continue to be popular now. This, folks, is the world we live in.
The concept is simple. Five teams of two take turns staying at each other’s Airbnbs, rating them on the usual criteria — cleanliness, location, value, that kind of thing. It’s a simple enough formula that is absolutely ripe for bitching and moaning about everything, especially once you’ve realized which couples are in it to win and sabotage everyone else’s experiences. There’s also a refreshing absence of secrecy, so everyone knows how their place was scored. It’s fun if this is your kind of fun, and a lot of people will eat it right up.
For the most part, Instant Hotel Season 2 remains virtually unchanged, with the addition of large-cuffed British design busybody Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, having presumably found more work in the sunnier, happier climes of Australia than he did here in England. He’s well-suited to the show’s tone and aesthetic, which is overtly shiny with a simmering undercurrent of bitter resentment. The reality TV crowd will doubtlessly binge this for all it’s worth over the weekend and fair play to them. Any thoughts on what it all means for the overall state of our species are best left unsaid. Let the apocalypse be sunny and full of complaining.
