Well hello! This week’s station stop on The Bachelor Crazy Train tour of gorgeous photogenic locales where hormonal reality show contestants make out, cry and rant in very luxurious accommodations was Park City, Utah. Lucky, lucky Park City. Now, I’ve been to Park City (to do après ski, natch) and it truly is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. I’ve also stayed at The Canyons, the posh hotel that was home base for this rolling road show. It truly is as fab as you might imagine. Fortunately for me, my Park City experiences have never included pouty fly fishing, rappelling into a cavern full of bacterially-suspicious water and cocktail parties with bitchy wine-drinking girls that seemed more suited to a school lunchroom than a sophisticated resort hotel. This show is the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t it? Although we might all need a virtual penicillin shot if things get ickier than they already are.
Maybe it’s because I have a bit of Oscar fever, thanks to the recent award nominations, but I couldn’t help be reminded of certain films as the tableaus of the program played out. For instance, the fly-fishing group date, during which I didn’t see even one pair of Uggs (Yeah. I was as shocked at this as you are. Can this be a tasteful Bachelor fashion first?), evoked that visually sumptuous Robert Redford creation, A River Runs Through It. Yeah. We didn’t quite get that effect with this expedition, what with emotional women playing the Brad Pitt/Craig Sheffer roles, but you can’t have everything. The usual group-date hyper-competitive shenanigans played out, as Courtney the Model worked her magic with a rod and came up with a big one.
Oh. Ouch. So sorry for that one. See what this show has done to me – its hormonal inaneness is causing me to make very bad double entendres in commentary. It’s rather like having Stockholm syndrome except instead of identifying with your captors, you fall to their intellectual level.
Anyhow. Courtney the Model caught the only fish of the day. Natch. I rewound that scene on the DVR a couple of times to see if I could catch a production intern sticking the fish on her hook. No such luck. As usual she gloated, the other girls glowered and Bachelor Ben was gleeful because he “loves spending time with Courtney – she just gets it.” Ben, you are an idiot.
By the way, I’m biting my virtual tongue because that Bachelor Ben quote is a great set-up line for many possible tacky double entendres and I’m trying to quit the habit. I’ll show you, mind-numbing Bachelor show!
The post-group activity cocktail bash had a virtual cornucopia of highlights. Nikki and Ben found connection over pals (his) and bosses (hers) who recently passed away. Dead folks seem to come up a lot in conversation on this show. For the record, dead fiancé = dead dad > dead friend > dead boss, in the Bachelor Hierarchy of Sob Stories. Kacie B. and Ben went to the cocktail party secret makeout suite, where he assuaged her insecurities about seeing him spend time with other girls (was she in the ladies room when the rules of this show were explained?) with more kissing. And then there’s the strange tale of Samantha and Her Abrupt Dismissal by Ben. She staggered over, drunkenly rambling about not getting more face time with him. In response, he threw down, telling her basically that there ain’t nothing goin’ on between them and then faster than you can say “pass that crying girl a tissue” Samantha was gone. Just like that. I’ve read rumor that there was more to this than we viewers were clued into, but I’ll let you go do your own internet gossip hunting. Bye, Samantha! We hardly knew ye!
Lest you think there wasn’t any interaction between Bachelor Ben and Courtney the Model, think again. They stole away to a secluded fireplace and over wine, Courtney whips out every trick in the book – feigned insecurity, little-girl-voice, pursed lips and fluttering eyelashes – to play Ben easier than a toddler can play a pre-programmed Casio keyboard. And after she received the group date rose as a gesture of security, she preened for the camera during her talking head, caressing the posy like a Batman villain might caress an illegally acquired secret formula. Cue the snide comments and ire from the rest of the ladies. In particular, Epidemiologist Emily (try saying that five times fast) who is really irked about the dichotomy between Courtney the Model’s behavior in front of Ben and how she acts when just the girls are around. Cue the foreboding organ music. That’s what passes for foreshadowing around here, y’all.
The two one-on-one dates also struck a cinematic chord with me – Ben, Rachel and her Fabulous Bangs went on an outdoor adventure, complete with canoe, picnic and the sounds of nature. Which were very audible thanks to the totally stilted discussion they had. Even the crickets were too bored to chirp during the conversation silences. This date reminded me of that classic film A Place in the Sun, which was based on Theodore Drieser’s novel An American Tragedy. Thank goodness Rachel fared better than poor Shelley Winters did in the movie when she and Bachelor Ben took that rowboat ride. Despite the awkward, Rachel gets the date rose.
Sweet Jennifer, aka the best kisser in the house (tm Bachelor Ben.) was chosen for other mano-y-chica date. In a sexed-up (bikinis! shirtless!) homage to 127 Hours, our couple rappelled into a cavern, facing fears together and strengthening their relationship blah blah blah. I’d personally be more afraid of what might be in that cavern water than that rappel. Can you say organisms and bacteria? But that might just be me. Where’s James Franco when you need him? The date included rain, wine, dine, date rose and Clay Walker. I like Jennifer, but she just may be too normal and stable for this nonsense. Run, Jennifer, run!
The biggest drama was saved for the pre-Rose Ceremony cocktail party. I honestly don’t know what movie this reminded me of – just pick anyone where women exhibit every stereotype ever assigned to our gender. Girls behaving VERY badly. Gossiping, eye rolling, condescension, tattling to the boy about another girl, threatening comments, eye rolling, overuse of worn catch phrases (“Winning!” Gag.), crying, drinking, eye rolling. This is why the terrorists hate us, y’all. Such nonsense makes all of womankind look bad. There are back issues of Ms. Magazine weeping in attics of venerable feminists across the country. SMH.
After all that had transpired before (and there was A LOT, y’all), the Rose Ceremony itself seemed rather anticlimactic. Tattletale Emily was made to sweat it out until Chris Harrison’s Last Rose of the Evening speech and in a sacrifice of one of her nine Bachelor lives, her name is called, sending Monica weepily home (is there any other way to leave this God-forsaken nightmare?)
Next week: Puerto Rico! Where Courtney the Model has been before. Pass the rum, y’all. I think we’re going to need it.
Clacked by Jane Graves 
on Jan 25, 2012 @ 15:35 EST5EDT
What? you mean these aren’t just good ole, down home, mama’s darl’n, sweet as pie girls we’re watching? I’m flabbergasted and totally distraught at the thought these girls aren’t the cream of the crop hotties just for Ben!