TV Critic Tom Shales review of "Joe Millionare"
01-08-03, 02:12 PM
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TV Critic Tom Shales review of "Joe Millionare"
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'Joe Millionaire': Not Worth a Plugged Nickel
By Tom Shales
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, January 8, 2003; Page C01
Buick's slogan used to be "When better automobiles are built, Buick will build them." The Fox network's slogan could be "When stupider television shows are made, Fox will air them." The latest case in point is also in the forefront of a whole new trash pack of "reality" TV shows premiering in the next couple of weeks: Fox's willfully humiliating "Joe Millionaire."
As what's euphemistically called the civilized world well knows, "Joe Millionaire" (airing Monday nights at 9) is the latest stinky wrinkle in the "Bachelor"-"Bachelorette" format. Twenty women were flown to France and trucked to a fancy chateau to meet Evan Wallace, a man they'd been told had just inherited $50 million and was looking for a Mrs. Right. Which is to say, a Mrs. Wallace.
But Evan Wallace is really Evan Marriott, a 28-year-old construction worker who hasn't inherited so much as Uncle Elmo's stamp collection. At the end of several weeks, the 20 women will be winnowed down to one (eight were eliminated the first night), and Evan and the viewing nation will learn whether the winner is still attracted to the curly-headed hunk when she finds out he only makes 19 grand a year. Imagine her disappointment -- though we won't have to, as Fox cameras will capture it for us.
Then we will find out whether love is thicker than money, or something like that.
Ridiculous and pernicious as it is, "Joe Millionaire" attracted 19 million viewers to its Monday night premiere and was easily the big water cooler topic yesterday. People are talking about it -- mostly to laugh at it, ridicule the contestants or Mr. "Millionaire" or both, and express wonderment that the women fell for the ruse. Maybe not all of them did, but since it was all being taped for television, they were going along with the joke.
On the premiere, we saw Marriott get a crash course in acting like a snooty rich guy, including a test of whether red wine or white wine goes with quail. It was decided that the semi-dashing playboy should dash in to meet the contestants aboard a handsome horsie, but Marriott had never ridden before. His dismount was okay, but when he tried to get back on the horse for his exit, his foot slipped and he almost fell on his face.
A few of the women stifled snickers, and a skeptical viewer had to wonder how many were seeing through the shady shenanigans already. But then a skeptical viewer also had to wonder whether a few of them weren't lying about their ages, since the occasional 24-year-old looked more like an occasional 34-year-old.
"Joe Millionaire" is, of course, another example of Humiliation Television. We watch to see people suffer excruciating embarrassment. In the still-new multichannel universe, many kinds of cruelty are passed off as entertainment; perhaps if this were ancient Rome, the feeding of Christians to lions would be televised so as to make it available to a wider audience. In the case of "Millionaire," the viewer is guaranteed that women will be eliminated from the harem each week and that, like losers on "The Bachelor," they'll go ahead and cry about it, or at least get good and pouty.
ABC will soon begin airing "The Bachelorette," a companion piece to "The Bachelor" in which one woman will be courted by a fleet of eager males rather than the other way around. Let's hope in the interest of sexual equality that at least some of the losing men go to pieces too, crying on camera so as to satisfy its peering prurience.
The women gathered for "Joe Millionaire" were not, generally speaking, inordinately attractive, adding a note of pathos and perhaps desperation to the so-called game. Their professions ranged from physical therapist to office coordinator to an advertising saleswoman who asked rhetorically, "Who wouldn't want to be whisked away?" Actually, I wanted to be whisked away to another channel.
One contestant is a loan officer. As this woman has probably said many a heartless "no" to applicants, lets hope she gets a "no" herself.
Once you get past the central ruse, about 95 percent of the show is filler -- footage of the women pawing ball gowns or sitting around looking gaga. There won't really be a punch line until the hoax is revealed to the winning contestant. Until then, we'll apparently be witness to a lot of slack-jawed gaping at the proffered opulence. As they approached the chateau, many of the women giggled giddily, tickled puce at the lavishness before them. None seemed suspicious that the huge palace has only one visible servant, a fat bald butler, or surprised that at the so-called ball held late in the premiere, creaky old Strauss waltzes were piped in.
Come on. Not even the super-rich put up with Strauss waltzes anymore. This was one corny notion of how the other half lives.
On Howard Stern's radio program yesterday, where "Joe Millionaire" was naturally a topic of gleeful derision, one contributor held out a note of hope, theorizing that on the final show it'll be revealed that the viewers, and not the contestants, have been misled -- that Joe really is a millionaire after all. It's a nice thought, but it probably gives Fox too much credit.
Marriott appeared on yesterday's "Good Morning America," an ABC show that was suddenly interested in plugging Fox fare, and came across as the proverbial nice guy, if a bit more worldly than one would expect a bulldozer driver to be. If it does turn out that he really is loaded, it would be a stunning surprise but one that would render the essential question of the show -- is love stronger than money? -- meaningless.
"Joe Millionaire" might be less offensive if it were the only new reality show instead of being part of a major outbreak. The one good thing about such a glut of glutinous garbage is that, by the law of TV averages, several of the programs are bound to fail. How encouraging if the mean and venal "Joe Millionaire" turns out to be one of them.
'Joe Millionaire': Not Worth a Plugged Nickel
By Tom Shales
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, January 8, 2003; Page C01
Buick's slogan used to be "When better automobiles are built, Buick will build them." The Fox network's slogan could be "When stupider television shows are made, Fox will air them." The latest case in point is also in the forefront of a whole new trash pack of "reality" TV shows premiering in the next couple of weeks: Fox's willfully humiliating "Joe Millionaire."
As what's euphemistically called the civilized world well knows, "Joe Millionaire" (airing Monday nights at 9) is the latest stinky wrinkle in the "Bachelor"-"Bachelorette" format. Twenty women were flown to France and trucked to a fancy chateau to meet Evan Wallace, a man they'd been told had just inherited $50 million and was looking for a Mrs. Right. Which is to say, a Mrs. Wallace.
But Evan Wallace is really Evan Marriott, a 28-year-old construction worker who hasn't inherited so much as Uncle Elmo's stamp collection. At the end of several weeks, the 20 women will be winnowed down to one (eight were eliminated the first night), and Evan and the viewing nation will learn whether the winner is still attracted to the curly-headed hunk when she finds out he only makes 19 grand a year. Imagine her disappointment -- though we won't have to, as Fox cameras will capture it for us.
Then we will find out whether love is thicker than money, or something like that.
Ridiculous and pernicious as it is, "Joe Millionaire" attracted 19 million viewers to its Monday night premiere and was easily the big water cooler topic yesterday. People are talking about it -- mostly to laugh at it, ridicule the contestants or Mr. "Millionaire" or both, and express wonderment that the women fell for the ruse. Maybe not all of them did, but since it was all being taped for television, they were going along with the joke.
On the premiere, we saw Marriott get a crash course in acting like a snooty rich guy, including a test of whether red wine or white wine goes with quail. It was decided that the semi-dashing playboy should dash in to meet the contestants aboard a handsome horsie, but Marriott had never ridden before. His dismount was okay, but when he tried to get back on the horse for his exit, his foot slipped and he almost fell on his face.
A few of the women stifled snickers, and a skeptical viewer had to wonder how many were seeing through the shady shenanigans already. But then a skeptical viewer also had to wonder whether a few of them weren't lying about their ages, since the occasional 24-year-old looked more like an occasional 34-year-old.
"Joe Millionaire" is, of course, another example of Humiliation Television. We watch to see people suffer excruciating embarrassment. In the still-new multichannel universe, many kinds of cruelty are passed off as entertainment; perhaps if this were ancient Rome, the feeding of Christians to lions would be televised so as to make it available to a wider audience. In the case of "Millionaire," the viewer is guaranteed that women will be eliminated from the harem each week and that, like losers on "The Bachelor," they'll go ahead and cry about it, or at least get good and pouty.
ABC will soon begin airing "The Bachelorette," a companion piece to "The Bachelor" in which one woman will be courted by a fleet of eager males rather than the other way around. Let's hope in the interest of sexual equality that at least some of the losing men go to pieces too, crying on camera so as to satisfy its peering prurience.
The women gathered for "Joe Millionaire" were not, generally speaking, inordinately attractive, adding a note of pathos and perhaps desperation to the so-called game. Their professions ranged from physical therapist to office coordinator to an advertising saleswoman who asked rhetorically, "Who wouldn't want to be whisked away?" Actually, I wanted to be whisked away to another channel.
One contestant is a loan officer. As this woman has probably said many a heartless "no" to applicants, lets hope she gets a "no" herself.
Once you get past the central ruse, about 95 percent of the show is filler -- footage of the women pawing ball gowns or sitting around looking gaga. There won't really be a punch line until the hoax is revealed to the winning contestant. Until then, we'll apparently be witness to a lot of slack-jawed gaping at the proffered opulence. As they approached the chateau, many of the women giggled giddily, tickled puce at the lavishness before them. None seemed suspicious that the huge palace has only one visible servant, a fat bald butler, or surprised that at the so-called ball held late in the premiere, creaky old Strauss waltzes were piped in.
Come on. Not even the super-rich put up with Strauss waltzes anymore. This was one corny notion of how the other half lives.
On Howard Stern's radio program yesterday, where "Joe Millionaire" was naturally a topic of gleeful derision, one contributor held out a note of hope, theorizing that on the final show it'll be revealed that the viewers, and not the contestants, have been misled -- that Joe really is a millionaire after all. It's a nice thought, but it probably gives Fox too much credit.
Marriott appeared on yesterday's "Good Morning America," an ABC show that was suddenly interested in plugging Fox fare, and came across as the proverbial nice guy, if a bit more worldly than one would expect a bulldozer driver to be. If it does turn out that he really is loaded, it would be a stunning surprise but one that would render the essential question of the show -- is love stronger than money? -- meaningless.
"Joe Millionaire" might be less offensive if it were the only new reality show instead of being part of a major outbreak. The one good thing about such a glut of glutinous garbage is that, by the law of TV averages, several of the programs are bound to fail. How encouraging if the mean and venal "Joe Millionaire" turns out to be one of them.
