While my roommates were re-creating last Sunday’s
thrilling playoff game between the New York Giants and the San
Francisco 49ers on “Madden 2003,” it dawned on me that
Monday Night Football had already wrapped up its season. My Monday
nights are now down to Fox’s new reality gimmick “Joe
Millionaire” or studying. I chose the lesser of two evils and
flipped to Channel Murdoch. Hook, line, sinker.
For those of you bemoaning my jumping ship to the dark side,
please keep an open mind about reality programs. They can’t
be viewed the way they’re presented. You’ve got to add
your own inane humor to them.
The premise of 20 ladies vying for the heart of one phony
millionaire is an unintentional comedy gold mine. The idea of an
honest, down to earth guy telling the biggest lie on national
television this side of “I did not have sexual relations with
that woman” is vintage Fox. I haven’t laughed this hard
since, well, the night before when Conan O’Brien jumped out
of an airplane on “Andy Richter Controls the Universe”
(No, I am not affiliated with the Fox Network in any way).
As Evan the construction worker was introduced to America, I was
surprised to learn from my roommate that most of the production
crew and even the butler were kept in the dark. The butler prepared
Evan like a piece of prime rib by seasoning him with the proper
etiquette, and the ladies quickly picked up the scent. When the
hopeful contestants approached Mr. Millionaire’s chateau in
France, some stared in disbelief, others shed tears of happiness,
and a few actually started experiencing orgasms.
Evan may be the prize, the blue-collar protagonist, the face on
the covers of future entertainment magazines, but the show lives
and dies with the ladies. Its success hinges on whether or not they
can capture America’s hearts by 1) conducting themselves in
the most conniving and backstabbing manner and 2) blubbering like
idiots.
The producers shrewdly dusted off the old “20 dresses for
20 women” trick to heighten the tension. As the ladies
stampeded into the dressing room, I was reminded of cattle herding
and hungry wolves. Lo and behold, one contestant immediately
commented on how they were like “a herd of cattle,”
while the butler described them as “a pack of hungry
wolves.”
The badmouthing kicked off when Heidi broke the sacred rule by
trying out (gasp) two dresses at the same time, prompting the first
official eye-roll on the show. Heidi then spent the final 20
minutes establishing herself as the token girl we love to hate,
reiterating the word “competitive” 15 different times
and blurting out her two cents on every single topic brought up
during the episode.
When the ladies were not busy sticking pins into a Heidi voodoo
doll, they were doing their best to exhaust every possible
reference to Disney fairy tales. Apparently every contestant saw
herself as Cinderella and considered the others wicked
stepsisters.
Absolute highlight of the first episode occurred when eight of
20 contestants were eliminated and one of them decided to break out
the hard liquor.
Inside joke of the first episode happened when Evan called
Amanda the “total package.” Two words: Lex Luger.
What’s really going to be a laugh riot is when Evan
reveals to the lucky lady that she will have to be the breadwinner
in the family. I’m practically giddy. You can’t put a
price on that kind of comedy.
Chang thinks the funniest shows on television right now are
“Curb Your Enthusiasm,” “The Daily Show with Jon
Stewart,” and “The Simpsons.” E-mail Chang at
dchang@media.ucla.edu.