Props to Potes.
I like New York in montage. How about you? I like an hour-long recap barrage. How about you? I love a fireside when a storm is due. How about you? I like potato chips, moonlight, and motor trips. How about you?
I'm getting nervous about the increasing volume of Burton Lane rolling over in his grave. How about you?
Upstairs for the last time at the Combatotel, we find Elyse take a sip of water in drinking her USDA maximum of "bloating agents" for the day, because someone with her frame would not be able to take another sip, bite, or sharp intake of breath lest her weight crack into the double digits or she accidentally get herself some titties. Looking out the window, she tells a nearby Adrianne forlornly, "I miss Robin," because the road to hell is paved with cleverly elitist sarcasm. Adrianne bends over and shows pretty much all of a red g-string to the viewing public that she's wearing just in case Elyse is all, "That's so weird, Mrs. Plumber, but the sink really wasn't working just before you got here" and the two of them finally get some actual work as a result of those nude shoots. But instead, Adrianne just laughs and laughs, telling us in a confessional, "I'm really happy Robin's gone. I'm gonna be able to do whatever the f@$# I want and not get in trouble for it." Yes, yes. Gone are the days when a formerly demure, declining Adrianne would make her presence known only as she tiptoed on stocking feet over to Robin's couture collection hat to drop in a token of tithe. Now she's going to let her true, red-thonged colors fly high and proud, becoming the overbearing hag we always knew she had buried deep down. She'd like to get started right away. Someone crank that Hagometer up to 11.
"How do you like these apples, baby?" Adrianne screams as she runs out of the bathroom in a frilly pink negligee, leaping onto Elyse's bed and dry-humping her roommate like this is the best prom night ever. From across the room, Shannon screams an "Oh my god," which deity I'll be glad to capitalize for Shannon's edification when the good lord comes down from heaven and takes pains to depress the "shift" key in my stead. We cut over to Shannon, sitting on her bed and rocking a bucket hat because she's one fishhook and a murderous inclination away from knowing what I did last summer. Elyse, stunned but unharmed from the The Dry Hump That Dare Not Speak Its Name, takes us to a confessional and lets us know, "It'll be nice to see more of Shannon's true colors, and see her let loose a little bit, which I don't think she did around Robin." Did somebody say "let loose"? Because Adrianne is happy to oblige, leaping up on Elyse's bed and holding her arms out in the pink flowy gown like she's vying for the title role in Angels in Whore-merica, coming this fall on HB-Ho. She speaks of a "moneymaker" that requires shaking, holding out her arms and doing a fancy cha-cha dance which most of the production staff has doubtlessly affectionately termed "The Robin."
For her part, Shannon wants us to know, "I do miss Robin. She was sort of like my mother in the house." The kind of castrating, emotionally manipulating mother who makes her kids batshit crazy. Or gay. Kidding. KIDDING. We cut to a quick shot of Robin's elimination, where we can just barely make out Janice in deep focus, wearing the emotion of "Oh, fucking finally." Back at the I'm-All-Thatotel, Shannon continues on that maybe it's not all bad that Mother Superior jumped the gun, adding in a confessional, "I do feel comfortable with Elyse and Adrianne. They're fun. And now at least I can be a more outgoing in a way...I don't have to worry about being quiet all the time." During this confessional -- in fact, right on the word "outgoing" -- we're treated to a shot of Shannon sitting on her bed, rocking a wonk-ass pair of Groucho Marx sunglasses and dancing like it's for sale and the rent can be paid in Dork Bucks. I mean, seriously. Some people must really want to stay virgins.
Pack your bags, y'all, we're sitting 'round Milan. Chattin'. Just in case you weren't sure of each of the girl's personalities here in the waning seconds of the season, they'll sit around and remind you: the final three are Adrianne (tomboy from the tough part of the town), Shannon (Bible-banging virgin whom they're suddenly painting in a very positive light on account of oops she might win), and Elyse (hypereducated med-school hopeful whose biology lesson has already begun with the reverse peristalsis lesson that "finger goes down, food comes up). "I can't believe I'm in the final three," Shannon tells them, not bothering to sneeze because she doesn't need anyone to say "god bless" you because she's already blessed, y'all. Adrianne couches the same sentiment in very Adrianne-esque terms, adding, "All those people that told me that I wasn't gonna make it to the end can lick my [word, probably 'soap my mother should have washed my dirty dirty potty mouth out with,' deleted], because I'm still here." Shannon gives a round-up of their diverse physical types, saying she doesn't know what to think "because we're all, like, blonde hair, short hair, brown hair." Different. And yet. In so many ways...the same. Elyse adds to this that she doesn't want to "speculate" as to who might win, which makes Shannon think, "Oh, good, because my grandpappy speculated with a pig once and then he didn't come around again after that" because Shannon doesn't know what that word means.
Tyra Banks "For The Memories" comes cabbage patching in just then, in skintight jeans and a matching jean jacket that are both like, "You wanna cover the midriff? Oh, you thought I was gonna cover the midriff? Because I thought you were gonna...oh, great, now she's naked on the TV." She offers an ill-advised opening statement, sweeping her arms around and asking, "Why's everybody matching? Like, red? And orange?" Adrianne is wearing red pajamas. Shannon is wearing a red sweatshirt. Elyse is wearing a windbreaker that is orange and grey in equal measure. Sure, they're not exactly bowing at the altar of Roy G. Biv at the moment, but neither are they dressed identically like the Von Trapps at concert time. Edit that down.
Tyra accessorizes in getting to the point, telling the girls, "What you guys are about to experience right now is the pinnacle of American fashion...New York Fashion Week is the top, the most amazing thing about American fashion. And we're gonna see if you guys have what it takes to be in a fashion show." She takes them to meet one Drew Linehan, a "fashion show producer," a job which requires in equal parts the skill to put his chin in his hands and shake it slowly in incredulous dismay, and to yell out the word "Ladies!" for no particular reason, sometimes even when he's alone. He shakes their hands and launches right in: "During Fashion Week, it's a really important time for your career." His speech is so evocative that it inspires the popping up of numerous shots of ostensibly famous models strutting down a runway at a Baby Phat fashion show. Wow. I wish I could do that. But as most of my stories revolve around how much work I should be doing and how much television I'm instead watching, most of the visuals would be of me glancing guiltily toward my computer while yet another episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force provided the only light in my apartment. And if the only result of my magic ability to create hologram depictions of my speech were making me look like Dagwood Bumstead just chillin' on the couch, perhaps this is a power I don't actually require.
Anyway, Drew continues on amidst the shots of pretty ladies, "The people in the front row are the most important people in fashion." Unless, of course, the UPN intervenes and those seats have been poached by the likes of Janice Dickinson and Kimora Lee Simmons. "It is a grueling three weeks. Your hair is being ripped out. Your feet are being shoved in shoes that don't fit." You'll be forced to lie in a giant pile of naked models! Electrical nodes are affixed to your implants and a couture hood placed over your head! Remember the scandal that ensued when the international Red Cross was forced to shut down that Valentino Black Label Collection show because of human rights violations? It was a dark day for modeling, my friends. A dark day for modeling.
Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! Adrianne wears the Groucho Marx glasses now, which I'm starting to think are kind of like the conch from Lord of the Flies, where you can only talk if you're wearing them. Shut up, Piggy. Adrianne reads it aloud: "You have the fashion show casting tonight at 8:00 PM. Have your hair and makeup done, be dressed and in heels by 7:30 PM." A quick cut later and it's nighttime in a long hallway at the Baby Phat offices, Tyra explaining to them, "You're gonna have to take your personal style and incorporate what Kimora calls the stomp." I understand those words, just not in that order. Let Tyra figure it out for us. She takes off down the hallway toward the camera doing her signature walk, but adding some serious hip-shakin' moxie. She reaches the end of the hallway and strikes a pose she brilliantly describes as, "Pow! What? So? And?" STOP YELLING AT ME!
Tyra takes it upon herself to give us the 411 -- that's what she'd call it, and then if you had any questions she'd be all, "Pow! What? So? And?" -- on each of the girls as they walk. And what's weird is that she's wearing this ensemble of a brown leather jacket and a belle chapeau that she has worn in every single one of her confessionals for this entire season. And not to try and puncture the fourth wall of the genre and try and point out that, in fact, there may be some trick editing at work here, but I have a strange feeling about these Tyra confessionals. Like, that they were taped in one sitdown marathon to plug some holes in the script after the season was completed. Either that, or every time she came in for a rap session with the camera guys, she wore the exact same thing. Which one of those two options -- willful, prettified misdirection or wardrobe slumming -- best befits a top model? Before you answer, though, bear in mind that this show does air on UPN.
Anyway, here's what Tyra thinks about Elyse: "She is perfect for high fashion. But I don't know if Elyse really wants this enough. And girls that are ambivalent are usually not successful." Adrianne piles on to this argument from the safety of her confessional, corroborating, "She hates modeling. She hates doing everything we do. And yet she's the best at it." Man. Elyse is the unwilling antihero who resents the power her gift has bestowed upon her. She's like Spider-Model. But the second her bewildered aunt shows up and starts giving a rambling, Mr. Brady speech about heroism and pride, I'm effing totally out of here.
What say you, Tyra? As Shannon strides the hallway, Tyra tells us, "Shannon is all warm and fuzzy and all-American." Right. Got it. She's a camp counselor, Mary Poppins, perfect American nice girl. If she were a kid's show, she'd be The Teletubbies. If she were a Teletubby, she'd be the one that's not gay. "In order for her to be successful...she's gonna have to be more edgy." Okay. Maybe she'd be the one who'd be gay.
"Adrianne has come such a long way," we learn while she's walking the hallway. "But she's still so rough around the edges, and she needs a lot of polishing." How much more sense it makes when Adrianne's character is couched entirely in the language of caring for antique furniture. Her dull shine could be removed with a little Brasso applied with a soft cloth. Always work on a small area first in order to be sure the process is not damaging the surface.
"I have no idea who is gonna win," Tyra tells us from the belle chapeau future when she already knew who won. "And I absolutely love that." A shot of each of the three girls being all "Pow! What? So? And?" makes me very afraid of rhetorical questions.
Ki-Snore-a Lee Simmons welcomes each of the ladies into the Baby Phat showroom, where she gestures her arms grandly and tells them in a weird faux French accent, "Welcome to zee house of Babe-ee Vat!" Nice try acting highbrow, Pépé Le You. She tells them she's been casting all day, and that the girls will be held up to the same scrutiny as "the hundreds of other girls we've been looking at." And she says it kind of haughtily, like she suddenly resents that these three girls have been offered the golden ticket of a reality-show shortcut, even though her complaints decrease exponentially in volume when they're drowned out by the sound of her cashing her checks from TyraCo.
J. Alexander and Kimora Lee Simmons sit together as each of the three girls walk up and down a showroom. Adrianne didn't think she did well, but J. tells her that "it takes you about five minutes of warming up, and then you come together." So, watch out, future contestants on America's Top Heating Pad, because she has the bizarrely specific skill set required to incrementally warm up with the best of them. Shannon's up , and KLS tells her she's really pulled it together, to which Shannon chirps, "Practice makes perfect!" At least she didn't hold up her hands like tiny cat paws and instruct her mentors to "Hang in there!" Elyse won't be saying either of those things. KLS asks her if she's nervous, and Elyse says she is, but in an effort to emotionally detach herself, I'm sure Elyse turned to the closest camera and hoped it wouldn't get edited out when shouted an additional "about getting into med school, of course."
Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! Tyra Mail! It's morning in Milan, Elyse cracking open an envelope and reading aloud, "Rejected at Stanford. Fuck!" Just kidding. She actually won't get that letter until she finds it resting on top of a pile when she leaves reeeeeeeeeeeeally soon and retires to her parents' house. "Two of you will continue on to become America's Top Model. One of you will be eliminated." Two eliminations. No waiting. I love it. Y'know what? To truly maximize on an episode's potential and really not waste any time, why not just eliminate all three of them? At this point, they each entreat to answer the question, I imagine, "Why do you deserve to win this competition?" Adrianne tells us it's because she's come the farthest, which is as good a rationale for saying we should elect a monkey President because he's learned to stop throwing its feces and clowning around in the punch bowl. Oh, wait. We already did that. Shannon tells us, "When you give something like your best...you feel like you should be rewarded for that." Something like your best? Losers are always whining about something like their best. Elyse, meanwhile, takes a slightly different approach, hoity-ifying, "I don't think that it's acceptable to say that anyone deserves to win this competition. It's really not a basic human right to win a modeling contract." That's the spirit, Elyse.
Into the elimination chamber we go. Tyra welcomes the three girls, telling them, "Tonight is a special elimination." It will be conducted entirely in song. And a-one, and a-two, and a one-two-three-f...nah, just fucking with you. I'm sorry I can't stop cursing. Recapping an HBO show is turning me into a lunatic. Tyra reminds the ladies that the two girls left standing after tonight will participate in a Baby Phat fashion show, and that their performance in that fashion show "will help determine who will be American's Top Model." She just fails to clarify the all-important caveat: whoever does worse wins.
The prizes reminded and the judges introduced -- along with special guest judge Drew "Sleepytime Tea" Linehan -- it's down to business with the individual evaluations. Elyse is first up, and Tyra tells her, "Show us what you've learned in terms of posing." Elyse is all, "Well, in college I said I was this huge Chili Peppers fan, but I really only knew the songs on the radio and had to pretend I was sick the night everyone went to the concert." Poseur. "And then there was the time I went out with the skateboarder and crammed with this MTV documentary right before I left so he thought I knew something about skating." Poseur! "And then there was the time I pretended I was black so I could hold P. Diddy's umbrella for him." She is all about the posing! Anyway, none of that happened. Instead, Elyse strikes a few poses and a sound effect of a camera snapping accompany some quick shots of Elyse frozen in black-and-white. Drew-py Eyes asks Elyse how she came to be on this show, and she gives everyone the heartfelt backstory: "I tried out for this, just, on a total whim." She's wanted it forever! "They had the audition at this silly little place right by my house." She has burned and yearned! "I just thought it would be fun." Bravo, you brave, brave survivor! She's a survivor. She's not gonna give up. She's gonna...talk about estrogen features? Tyra reminds Elyse that when they first met, Elyse had told her that top models represented nothing more than physical beauty, and we flash back to Elyse's Los Angeles audition to find her telling Tyra, "I don't think there are merits outside of the physical, and I think I have those." Tyra asks how she feels now, and Elyse tells them that she still believes in "estrogen features." When Janice calls out a brash "What's that?," I half-expect Elyse to pull down a chart and brandish a pointer, telling them that it's "just a jump to the left," before they all get it too and add that "then you step to the ri-yi-yi-yi-yi-ight!" Instead, she explains: "You've had a lot of estrogen in your development. It creates a certain set of facial features: a small jaw, wider set eyes, bigger lips, smaller ears, a smaller brow ridge." Various scoffing sounds erupt from the panel, and Janice actually does that "this is going over my head" hand swoop because unless it's botox injection or a line of coke off of David Bowie's tits at Studio 54, it's not getting anywhere near Janice's face.
Adrianne is in , and she's wearing an Army outfit with a skirt that seems to beg her both to ask and to tell. She does the photo shoot preen, and fields Janice's question first: "Why do you want to be a model?" So she can grow up and be just like you in the year 3000. She responds that it's because when she's modeling she feels "like god," and somewhere outside the room, a gasped "Oh, ma word!" is followed by a loud thump. Then that guy who works for the magazine and who isn't Eric Nicholson tells her he doesn't like her smile. Shut up, Not-Eric-Nicholson. I don't like your third through seventh chins.
And, Shannon. She works the poses with her crazy-ass smile, and Janice yells out all encouragingly, "Toothpaste companies out there, this is your girl!" Which, per the hoity aspirations of this show, means "Hit the road, Mrs. Ed." Drew takes this moment to ask her if she can name "three photographers who shoot fashion spreads for Vogue?" Oh, please. Adrianne and Elyse couldn't name three photographers who shoot fashion spreads for Vogue. Lauren Weisberger couldn't name three photographers who shoot fashion spreads for Vogue. Then again, she worked for some dumb fake version of it, like Rogue, or something. Or her character did. Shut up, chick lit. They ask her if she knows her measurements and she doesn't know that either, and Janice tells her, "You have to know the industry if you want to be a top model." Like if someone tells you that they're the world's first supermodel? Even if they say it eight straight times? They're lying.
Tyra loves Elyse's intelligence, but worries she might be too edgy and high-fashion. She also thinks she lacks the commitment, telling Drew, "She fell asleep while you were talking to her!" Drew looks back, like, "Meh. Happens all the time." Not-Eric-Nicholson says he thinks Elyse should be "out," and Janice raises her hands to heaven and yells, "In!" Adrianne, Tyra tells us, has had an incredible transformation, noting that when she walked into the semifinals, "She was not a looker." I thought a model's beauty was on the inside, Mrs. Has Merits Outside The Physical. And why'd she get chosen then, anyway? Drew doesn't love her. Janice thinks she in. Tyra tells us, "Shannon is the only one I can see being on the couch of Jay Leno or David Letterman." Jay Leno or David Letterman? Couch? What's going on? Should there be a couch at all these ladies are using to get themselves work, it would have to be the casting couch, and no other couch I can think of.
Back in they come, Tyra telling them how hard it will be to say goodbye to one of them. And yet, see you later. Tyra asks each of them how bad they want this, and Adrianne replies, "Real damn bad, Tyra Banks," before taking us to a confessional where she tells us, "It's been a long, strange trip." Oh, Adrianne. If you're going to quote the Dead, at least finally use it as a forum to admit the times you were "driving that train, high on cocaine." Except for the "driving that train" part. Shannon responds that "words cannot express" how badly she wants it, because she only knows six words and five of them are apostles. Elyse tells Tyra, "Damn bad, Miss Tyra." Which is a lie. In a confessional, Elyse tells us that she doesn't know who is going to go, adding, "Shannon told me that Jesus told her that I would be staying here, so that makes me feel pretty comfortable." Well, Jesus is a lying sack, because Shannon is called first, and Elyse is not called second. And why not? Because Tyra thinks that Elyse sounds "derogatory" and patronizing when she uses her big ol' brain. Tyra hands a crying Adrianne her photograph and the hugs are plenty. Elyse tells us in a confessional, "Tyra told me that I was arrogant and condescending in my speech and in my interactions with others. And I think she was right." She communicates her relief that she has been eliminated, telling us, "I'll be a doctor and not a top model...when I leave, I'll be gone forever." You tell the proctor of the MCAT to expect her and I'll tell the modeling agency she signed with after all that she was just kidding.
Blue Fin! I've been there. We're off to dinner at this overhyped Times Square eatery, featuring Shannon, Adrianne, Tyra, J. Alexander, and Jay Manuel. Tyra -- whassup with your hair, Tyra? -- kicks the conversation into gear, asking, "Who did you think would have been your most [sic] competition?" Shannon said she was worried about Tessa, who was not only a scab who was dragged off the street without a televised audition, but was eliminated after a cool eleven minutes. Tyra asks what the toughest part of living in the penthouse was, and Adrianne levels, "Living with Katie!" When they ask her why she didn't like Katie, she turns it around that Katie didn't like her, adding, "I felt like she thought I was really ghetto." And let us join in a chorus with J., if we can: "Well..." Jay reminds us that Nicole really expected to be in the final two, we reminisce about Ebony and her "essence," Giselle and her various annoying and cool tendencies, and the fact that Kesse was a god unto them all. Adrianne tells us how "fake" she found Robin, kowtowing to Shannon quickly in saying that Shannon believes in the same godly values that Robin ostensibly did but that she actually knows how to act like a regular human being. Who should be as worried that Tessa was going to take her job away as I am about Tessa taking my job away. And, they dance, because filler is on the menu for dessert. And it is dee-licious.
A subtitle tells us we're on our way to a "Fitting for Baby Phat Fashion show." Which, besides the peculiarities of capitalization, is accompanied by a shot of Adrianne and Shannon meeting KLS, who tells them, "You're here to do a fitting for the show that's tonight." Thank you for engaging all of my senses with the exact same information, show. Perhaps we'll be allowed to taste a bit of actual baby fat in order to truly engage ourselves in the subject matter. No? We can't? What's that? You say I'm under arrest for eating babies? Anyway, they're fitted into their clothes for the evening, because, in case you didn't notice, they're there for a fitting for the Baby Phat fashion show. Which is tonight. The show is. The Baby Phat show.
Tonight.
The paparazzi are in full effect that night, and not taking pictures of Shannon and Adrianne as they walk into a busy building. They're brought into makeup and put into costume, Adrianne wearing some crazy bangs and a leopard top. The lights go down and out they march, Shannon wearing a very slimming, stripe-y dress. They both look like they're doing fine as they make their way into another costume, Adrianne modeling Baby Phat's new booby line, because that's all one of her outfits is. Tyra tells us, on the matter of who is winning, "I'm goin' to bed tonight, and I don't know. I really don't." It's Adrianne. Adrianne is the winner.
One last time in Milan, Shannon lies on her bed and tells us how nervous she is. Adrianne tells us that she's "busting [her] balls" trying to win. The following morning, they both express a desire to see the other do well but to win in their own right. Adrianne thinks they both deserve it, because she didn't see herself walk out there.
And one final visit to the Death Maze that is ANTM elimination. Tyra welcomes them warmly while the soundtrack holds a scary chord, and she doesn't introduce the judges again but she does name the prizes. No guest judges this week, because Tyra was reminded that there was a guy named "Beau" whom she could talk to in a pinch. We begin with Shannon, and Tyra takes us through her photographs. Janice thinks Shannon is totally capable of high fashion, and Not-Eric-Nicholson thinks she can do "sex appeal" as well. Adrianne's best shots feature snakes, and Janice thinks her foot is too big in the bathing suit shot, but thinks Adrianne's face "rocks." The nude shot is called up again, and Tyra tells her she loves her "courage," which means, "You'll be winning." Tyra asks if they have anything to say, and Shannon tells her that she's got it in her to be a supermodel. Adrianne says she's excited that she can be "a sex machine," which is such a fantastic parting shot for the judges to deliberate for the last time. Let's go see.
Janice starts it off, saying that Shannon blew her away at the fashion show. KLS agrees, "Shannon kicked Adrianne's butt," and only Not-Eric-Nicholson says he thinks Shannon was trying to do "an imitation of a model" and that Adrianne was at least doing something unique. Sucking. KLS thinks that Shannon isn't nearly edgy enough for today's fashion world, which KLS thinks is "smoking pot and getting caught." Edgy. Tyra pulls out her list of each of the girls and her notes from the semi-finals in L.A., and to Adrianne, in Tyra's handwriting, she's written the word, "NO!" to Shannon she wrote, "Dear Mom: I learned how to spell 'no' today. Please note, this part I am dictating."
Adrianne and Shannon return to the room. Tyra stands up and speeches, "One of you is about to be a star in a matter of minutes. Your life is about to change." Is a wealthy relative about to die? Because from the news we've been getting from the front lines, their lives are pretty much exactly the same. When "I'm gonna make it to New York" means that Shandi is working at a Walgreen's on 34th Street, well, what is a "star," I ask you. Nevertheless, Tyra regards a shrouded object behind her and continues on, "The winner's picture is hanging behind me, and when the cloth is dropped, it will reveal who will be America's Top Model." Tyra regards Adrianne and tells her, "Adrianne, you have transformed like Cinderella." Whose life has been stuck at permanent midnight since the minute the show has ended. To Shannon, she tells us, "You walked that runway last night like a diva. You stole that show. That show was yours." They hold hands. The shawl comes down. Adrianne is America's Top Model. Adrianne almost goes down, and Shannon immediately tells us in a confessional that she's glad she made it this far. And then, gone. Tyra runs out to hug her and Adrianne does the charming tongue-wagging yell. Janice gives her a hug and yells, I think, "I didn't vote for you!" Awwww. She can get so jealous of humans. "A lot is going to change," Adrianne tells us. "And it kicks so much ass." Classy.