Last week, nothing really happened except for Katie's weird Twin Peaks moment in the desert. I hope Native American religion will work on whatever's wrong with Abercrombie & Rich. Bryan Me Badd was a gigantic sweetheart; Jeff Degrees was awful; and Backstreet Chris taught us how to yawn. Everybody whined and avoided accountability, effort, and success like the plague.
Now, the theme music is lackluster and the opening credits underwhelming. Katie has hired a personal trainer named Kristia ("Krista") for Bryan, who weighs 300 pounds and still looks a lot better than Kirkpatrick. Bryan squats, pull-pushes, crunch-factors, yogatinis and does other exercise things I don't know about, and then Kristia warns him that her "Bad Lady" side might come out at some point. They have that lovely trainer/trainee relationship I always enjoy: two parts abusive bassist boyfriend to one part Cider House Rules.
Chris marvels at Bryan's training dedication after his first session, then taunts him with the wonders of liquor. He interviews about how Bryan did not give in to his stupid peer pressure about drinking, and Bryan begs him to lay off, but he's not going to do so. You can tell that Chris is like overjoyed to have this scab of Bryan's that he can pick, pick, pick at and then be like, "I'm so worried about Bryan because he drank that drink I poured down his throat." There's this sickening half-grin on his face, in his eyes, whenever Bryan's drinking comes up, and it's so offensive. There's a moment of foreshadowing about Bryan's own personal Bad Lady, once more, and we despair that we'll ever see her. I feel like mostly we're seeing Chris's Bad Lady, projecting all his substance issues onto poor pathetic married Bryan instead of noticing that he's now 43 years old and living off money from when we were all little babies, and that in all that time he's managed only to get fat and change his hairstyle.
Katie tells the guys about this R&B producer, Bryan Michael Cox, who will be working with them. "Anyone in the music business knows who Bryan Michael Cox is," Rich from LFO tells us. "Also, Rich from LFO knows who Bryan Michael Cox is," we chorus in response. Cox's assignment is for them to get a song together. As usual whenever anybody asks them to act like a music group, the boys are bewildered. Bryan asks for a Dictaphone to work on the song and Chris assumes that he's asking for a blowjob, like in the old days. "Whatever it takes for you to write," Chris giggles weirdly, narrowly avoiding calling him "JT." Rich scoffs in interview about how nobody says "Dictaphone" anymore, as though he knows anything about anything, and how these days we call them "tape recorders." Even being told true things by Rich from LFO makes me angry now. "I look like a turnip," he could say, and I'd be like, "You know nothing about vegetables, jerky. And you look like a turnip." Other terms for Dictaphone, Rich explains, are "hand-held tape recorder" and "could ya get me a small tape recorder." Thanks, buddy.
Later, Bryan practices with his Could Ya Get Me A Small Tape Recorder; they all practice with the sample music separately. Chris admits that he has no idea what he's doing, but this is a lie. He totally knows what he's doing, both with Bryan and with his Dictaphone and songwriting. Meanwhile, Jeff is pissing and moaning and doing the dishes. This is how he writes songs, he explains: by not doing anything to do with music, then complaining his hot ass off about doing the dishes. He grasshoppers like a motherfucker well into the late autumn and meanwhile, the ants are storing up smooth beats. But if you think there's going to be a hubris payoff? There's not. He's kind of perfect in some ways and this is one of them. I think maybe this is one of those The Thing That Makes You Awesome Is The Thing That Makes You Suck issues, like, he does know what he's doing, but that also provokes him to get paralyzed about proving that he knows what he's doing, because what if he doesn't, and also how dare you ask, and all of this combines and causes him to act like a pair of pantyhose sometimes.
Bryan Michael Cox is totally charming and trying to treat them like human beings. He tells us about how this whole horrible idea is such a long shot that he could well become the Emperor of California if he pulls it off. If he doesn't, he still worked with Mariah. I wish my life were such that I could throw that around the way everybody else does. Like at the Apple store: "Fix my Nano and don't give me lip. I produced a Mariah track." Or at Taco Bell: "Mariah Carey would not allow this!" In the studio, sumptuous Jeff is still better than this entire process, both literally and in his mind, and he stresses everybody out. They are this close to just openly laughing at him. Or possibly beating him up while he sleeps. Just don't touch the face, boys. I mean, menz.
Rich tells us that he's going to suck, then sucks. In front of everybody. His song employs the term "sunshines," which is great, and then freestyles slowly and awkwardly and fake-ghetto-ly it's a list of things he remembers from childhood, because I guess that's all he's got. It's dead boring, so here are some lyrics from his one successful song ever, instead, because they are pure comedy on a level this show will never quite reach: "Hip-hop marmalade spic & span/ Met you one summer and it all began/ You're the best girl that I ever did see/ The great Larry Bird, jersey 33/ When you take a sip you buzz like a hornet/ Billy Shakespeare wrote a whole bunch of sonnets/ Call me Willy Whistle cause I can't speak baby/ Something in your eyes went and drove me crazy/ Now I can't forget you and it makes me mad/ Left one day and never came back/ Stayed all summer then went back home/ Macauley Culkin wasn't Home Alone/ Fell deep in love, but now we ain't speaking/ Michael J. Fox was Alex P. Keaton/ When I met you I said my name was Rich/ You look like a girl from Abercrombie & Fitch." Illiterate aphasic or Gertrude Stein devotee? You decide.
Chris sings awesomely and romantically and everybody's impressed. I wish they would just admit that he's the best at this. You can tell he's leaving places for the other guys to sing too, it's really nice. Cox is insulted that he didn't write a chorus. Jeff whines for a million years about how he's nervous and will be singing a song for the first time ever on this show. He sounds amazing but has pitch issues; Cox calls him out in interview for constantly pussing out. Good judge of character, this Cox. Willy Whistle tells us that Bryan is so wasted with anxiety and then he tells the group the same thing. He's really scared, but once he starts singing he sounds great. Cox loves him. I think the best songwriting was Chris, that tiny bit, and the best vocals were...everybody but Rich from LFO. Rich from LFO is the goat of all time. Do you know what LFO stands for? "Lyte Funky Ones." Explain this to me. It makes me want to punch everybody's mom in the face when I think about that. Cox gives them a good solid B. They are satisfied with this. Welcome to reality TV, where a good solid B is a reason to go on living.
Chris decides to throw a party. There's a disco ball, tons of whores, Jeff being nervous at the touch of a woman because of Jesus and his wife, Rich wearing a cute sweater and looking toolish. Bryan is really nervous because he's fifty years old and not drinking and gigantic and awkward. They're all fifty years old and fat except for Jeff, who is I think the Dorian Grey of Corey Haim. Rich gets really worried about Bryan's wanting to have a drink, because he has the same weird voyeuristic obsession with making Bryan the goat. Chris stares at Bryan going upstairs to sneak a drink and pretends this is not exactly what he wanted. Bryan tells one of the hos to keep his drinking on the DL in front of the cameras, and she tells him this is lame. Bryan goes around talking about how drunk he is and how bad that is, like he's a freshman in college. How much do you have to drink to get this weird, if you're the size and shape of a Psion xB? Chris is totally delighted by all of this and pretending to be really worried about it. The party's still raging at 3 AM when they cut the cameras. You'll notice nothing has actually happened: Bryan was not going to drink, then he had a drink, then everybody decided that they were the main character in the drama of Bryan having a drink and suffering no ill effects. This is some riveting goddamn television.
morning, Kristia surveys the "damage," which is like a couple bins of beer cans and some half-empty bottles of liquor. I think my kid sister could drink the Man Band under the table. Kristia tries to wake up Bryan for his workout and almost makes him cry. She's so sweet: "We're making each other look bad. Come on, I believe in you." I do too! She tells us that this is a thing that quasi-celebrities do, namely: sucking and screwing up all the time. He makes illogical excuses and she points out to us the very true fact that nobody ever reached a goal by writing themselves a bunch of passes. As though this applies only to Bryan's second day in fat camp and not the entire show.
Nobody went to bed before 7 AM. Therefore, none of them want this. It's a palindrome: put a bunch of unsuccessful people who have squandered amazing opportunities in a house, then watch them squander amazing opportunities some more. And the show has the balls to act surprised about this turn of events. Katie bitches Bryan out about screwing around with his trainer after like one day. She points out that being a performer means being awesome and good-looking, unless you're on American Idol, I guess, and Bryan starts talking mad crazy theory at her, not even making sense with his whines. She calls him a little bitch basically, but I don't know why anybody's singling Bryan out, because they all have the exact same problem. Chris goggles at Bryan and wonders if he's still drunk, practically tweaking his nipples in anticipation. Bryan agrees with her that he should have gotten it together and worked out in the morning, and she appeals to their sense of perfectionism and professionalism. They nod and don't even know how to spell those words. Or any words.
Katie tries to make a list of names for them. All the names they suggest are lame: "Unstable," "Plan B," "Afterlife," and "Planet X." Then Chris decides to bitch at Bryan about drinking at that party Chris threw so that Bryan would drink and Chris could worry and act mawkish about it. Chris takes him outside and acts like the mommy of the world, refers to "a scariness" that came out of Bryan last night, and generally talks in some wildly holier-than-thou circles. Bryan explains under this barrage that there was no such scariness, and then starts crying about how being at a party is fun and he hasn't felt famous in a really long time. He thanks Chris for lecturing him on camera like a big stupid mommy, and this causes Chris to scream and yell at him some more with a bunch of recovery rhetoric he doesn't even believe. It goes on forever. Bryan finally almost falls asleep. I think I have fallen in hate with Chris Kirkpatrick. He's so much worse than Timmons.
Katie has booked their first gig, and it's in three days. They will sing one song during an Orlando Magic halftime show. This song is theoretical. Chris alone is excited by this, interviewing that they don't even have a song, which is kind of a bad thing. Rich from LFO points out that four boyband guys in the middle of a basketball game is like totally horrible to contemplate. Katie doesn't care, she just tells them life is high-risk and that tossing herself merrily into their unprofessional wake is her version of collapsing in on herself and her career like a dying star. Cox begs them to say they're professionals; they halfheartedly agree. Cox is kind of amazed by their entitled cluelessness. Jeff whines and complains and bitches and moans some more. Rich from LFO shits himself and admits that this often happens when he is nervous or startled. Not a joke; reality. He really in reality says this. Everybody laughs uncomfortably. I would like to slap him silly just out of the blue and see what he does. I would like to make Rich from LFO cry.
Jeff hots around in the kitchen and everybody talks crazy. I have no idea what they're talking about. Chris notices that they're all nuts now, but thinks that Bryan is additionally drunk again. Everybody whispers behind Bryan's back that he's probably drinking; Rich spreads the gossip among the other two people like wildfire. Bryan talks crazy drunk talk and falls asleep on the kitchen counter. Rich from LFO cries about it some more. I kind of love this window on boyband behavior, it's like the zoo. Like even when just four people are gathered together, they will find ways to backbite and get codependent and weird and psych each other out.
My impression of boybanding is that they find you in Orlando and then kidnap you and take you to Germany and keep you in a large plastic shipping carton and then after two years they bring you back home and your parents steal all your money. I think that's how the system works. So like, I understand why, if you're just a teenager when they stick you in the box, you have to be all high school like this with the raw materials available, which is like a couple other guys. However, now they are all in their thirties and it's not cute anymore. No, you know what it's like? A fraternity house. Every day in a fraternity house is like the opening credits of The Facts Of Life. Lisa Whelchel rudely blowdrying her hair in your face, Tootie on rollerskates, Natalie and Jo experimenting with bisexuality after a couple beers. Mad amounts of getting into everybody's business, gelled bangs, crunchy socks, weird emotional intimacy, preoccupation with bodily functions. Lots and lots of cheap cologne. You take the good, you take the bad, you draw genitalia on Rich from LFO's stupid face while he's sleeping. I think that Katie is the Cloris Leachman. Definitely Jeff is the Tootie.
So anyway, I guess that Bryan does have a secret drinking problem after all. That sucks. But at least it gives everybody a reason to act like they're perfect and just really concerned about Bryan, instead of contemplating the vast abyss of their own wasted lives and futile expectations of success. MAN BAND!