I think it's too hot for me to think too much. Or at least, that's what I'm blaming this week's (creative? critical?) blockage on. Anyway, below are some passing observations from the past few days. Don't expect too much.
Janice Dickinson is better at being a gay man than anyone else on TV. This much we probably already knew. However, it became clearer with this week's episode, in which Janice's modeling agency teams with fucking 2(x)ist underwear (the faggiest way to cover dick this side of Jeff Palmer) that JDMA is simply the gayest thing on TV since Monroe's limp wrist on One Day at a TimeToo Close for Comfort (I knew that -- really, I did!).
You guys, hold on to your eyeballs, for I'm about to blow the lid off an ANTM policy that will make them pop out of your head.
ANTM has a womyn-born-womyn policy! And this revelation comes during New York pride week! For shame, Tyra, for shame.
But really, this is a BIG mistake on TyTy's part -- if there's one thing that any given ANTM house needs, it's a tranny! Imagine how nicely all those hormones would boost the crying count! I want a J-led session on tucking, damn it! This also explains why Tyra held that fakey America's Next Top Transsexual Model competition on her show (a wonderful convergence of guilt and freakshow-management mentality -- chicks with dicks aren't ready for primetime, but give them free reign on daytime TV!).
Also, note the reaction of Janice's son, Nathan: "The body says yes, the mind says no." That's awfully progressive for an 18-year-old boy, though I have a feeling that with a mom like JanDick, he couldn't be any other way.
After watching this week's episode of The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, I feel further need to defend it. Yeah, JDMA possibly the most trivial and superficial thing on TV right now (The Hills have nothing on it!), but of course it is. Complaining about Janice Dickinson churning out putrid, garbage television is like hanging out with a homeless person and complaining about the smell.
Also, it strikes me that Janice is simultaneously emotionally complex and devoid of many expressions (Botox strikes), which might cause major confusion for the uninitiated. If that's the case, I've drawn up a chart to illustrate Janice's major mood swing of the show (when, in seeming minutes, she went from defending the pleasant plumpness of signees Lauren and Nyabel against the criticism of Janice's business partner, Peter, to agreeing with him). I don't know why Janice behaves the way she does, but at least we this, we can attain a greater understanding of how she behaves the way she does. You might want to click on this to enlarge it.
It's really nice to watch Janice Dickinson insult people again. Really. I mean that.
Maybe she said it best herself when she inexplicably lambasted Duh-Gina on the last cycle of ANTM: "You're dead to me, bitch." Dead is right. I thought it was over for Janice, after that particularly vile turn on The Surreal Life and now that she's achieved the status of a thoughtlessly worshiped gay icon (is there any mode of appreciation less flattering than default?). It's one thing to be a homo ha-ha, and it's another to exploit it. I mean, really, showing up at East Village not-spot Eastern Bloc is tantamount to Sally Field's character's plea for adoration in Soapdish when she visits a Paramus mall for the sake of being noticed.
Desperation is not a good look for Janice because it's too straightforward an emotion. The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, however, provides plenty of crossed-signal incoherence while reminding us that the role of the dominatrix-for-your-own-good is the one Janice was born to play. In documenting Janice's search for bodies to stock her fledgling modeling agency's shelves, JDMA doesn't teach us anything that Tyra and her team haven't already (and better). Still, the show is a fun-enough display of Janice's strength in front of the reality camera.
In her weird, emotionally arbitrary way, Janice was the moral center of ANTM during her tenure. If people are going to be so unwise as to join a televised modeling competition, to willingly humiliate themselves for the sake of joining the single most superficial industry on the planet (and, you know, for our entertainment), they get what they have coming to them. In this case, what was coming was this buff, man-voiced monster whose barbs rang equally with wisdom, nonsense and acid. Confined to the last 15 minutes of that show and chopped into delicious non-sequiturs, Janice was a delirious force of hilarity, the apex of ANTM's high camp.