Talent. It’s something that famous people are believed to have in spades. They must have some talent to get to where they are, right? No matter how much you dislike a certain actor or musician, it’s generally understood that they have something to offer the world and aren’t simply talentless hacks. Yes, there are a few notable exceptions (Julia Stiles, I’m looking at you), but for the most part there tends to be at least a sliver of talent hiding beneath the surface whether it’s the ability to sing six octaves, mug shamelessly for laughs, or astound the world by shouting as you add salt to a pot of boiling water.
This week the semi-famous are forced to put on a talent show. The seven wonders are visibly nervous about this proposition. No handlers, no makeup, and most important of all, no script. What they perform must come from within, a true expression of who they really are and with less than 12 hours to come up with a routine and finely tune it into a masterpiece worthy of their illustrious pasts, they begin to get a little cranky.
Emmanuel Lewis, who once claimed, "everything I do is fun," seems to be the most upset. He tells the camera that he doesn’t find the idea of a talent show fun or humorous. Oh no? You should be on this side of the screen my friend, because it is both. Vince Neil seconds that emotion, adding that it is simply an exercise to "make famous people look like buffoons." Right again. Isn’t that the point of the entire show?
Vince brings up an interesting issue. Is the purpose of the night’s talent show, and on a larger scale "The Surreal Life" itself, just a way to get America to laugh at its fallen heroes? Or is its purpose to humanize those who seem to exist outside of the realm of the non-famous? To show that they too have mundane lives and bad haircuts and fears of being eaten alive by coyotes? To prove, once and for all, that fame has nothing to do with talent and is merely a series of lucky breaks and casting couch auditions that lead the persistent to the top? Or, at least, closer to the top than the average person? For the answers, we need look no further than the evening’s event.
But first, we need an audience. Another brilliant decision on the part of those behind the scenes is to make the houseguests go to Hollywood and sell tickets on the street. More contact with the common people! This may seem a little demeaning but it’s only humiliating if the housemate selling the tickets believes they are such a big star that they shouldn’t be forced to hawk their wares as if they were selling subscriptions to Grit door to door. I’ll give you one guess as to who is thinking this exact thing.
Hammer, as always, approaches this job with a good attitude and a sense of humor, even giving some lucky souls a little bit of that famous Hammer dance. On the opposite end of the spectrum lies Corey Feldman, who pouts and pisses and moans his way through the entire morning, at one point insulting a clown. Oh, Corey. Vince thinks the whole deal is stupid and basically sits on his ass all morning until he devises a brilliant scheme: he pays for the tickets himself and then starts handing them out to whoever will take them. One star struck fan shouts, "Free tickets from Vince Neil. All right!" I hope he knows there will be no spandex in tonight’s performance.
Time to practice. Corey tells us that unlike the other housemates, who are all creating something new and original for the night’s performance, he is "too much of a professional" to do the same. In other words, he has no faith in his own spontaneous creativity and decides to fall back on the crutch of a song he’s already written. And oh, what a crutch it is.
Corey desperately wants to be the Emmanuel Lewis to Vince Neil’s Hammer but Vince isn’t having any of it. He begs Vince to sing some backup on his song and offers his services in return, even going so far as to say he could play "harp" during Vince’s tune. Did he really just call his harmonica that? Why don’t you put that thing away before anyone gets hurt. Vince is the consummate professional, relatively speaking, and allows Corey to share his spotlight even though he would rather not have Mr. Pathetic sucking up his performance.
The crowd gathers. It was a brilliant move having the fallen stars selling the tickets by hand. What seemed to be a crass way to get the public to laugh at the housemates turns out to be a way to manipulate them into giving a shit about their performances. If it was simply a talent show they were forced to perform at by the producers, they could easily blow it off, but since they were the ones selling the tickets face to face and guaranteeing good times for all, they realise that their good names are at stake. Let’s give them the best damn show we can. It’s time to dig deep within and let the audience know why you deserve to famous. Wait a minute, what’s Jerri’s famous for again?
Who better to emcee the "Surreal Life" Talent Show then Monte Hall. He’s still got the looks and wit and he hosts the proceedings with as much professionalism as could be expected for a backyard talent circus presented to an audience sitting in folding chairs.
Now on with the Show! (All performances will be rated on a scale of 1-5, 5 being the highest, in the categories of Talent Evidenced, Embarrassment to Performer, and Overall Enjoyment.)
First up is Brande Roderick. She wisely lets her body do the talking instead of acting out a scene from Ibsen’s "Hedda Gabler," which was her fallback plan had her cheerleading outfit not been ready in time. Some mild breakdancing ensues and her midriff appears to please the guys who came to get their copies of Playboy signed by the real life centerfold. Score! (Talent: 2 Embarrassment: 1 Enjoyment: 2)
Next is Gabrielle Carteris and her "Burlesque Saints." It’s nothing more than the three girls, boas gripping their necks, dancing to "When the Saints Go Marching In." Ho hum. Oh wait, I’m forgetting something: Kazoo Madness! Gabrielle’s talent, aside from keeping this ragtag crew well dressed and properly fed, appears to be blowing a kazoo. Tunelessly. Thankfully she never really approaches the microphone so her bleating is lost to the five winds. What a pity. (Talent: 1 Embarrassment: 4 Enjoyment: 2)
The audience silently cries, "Somebody save us from these middling performances, please." Sensing the unrest in the crowd, Corey steps on stage to rock them like they’ve never been rocked before. But first things first, he’s got to get a plug in. "This song is off my new album," he whimpers, "it’s in stores now." Shockingly, the crowd resists the urge to trample each other in a mad dash to the nearest Tower Records. He then begins one of the most cloying, cliché-ridden, overblown power ballads I have ever heard. Something about learning to love again, I think. It is absolutely horrendous. At the big finale, he turns and points to Vince Neil, who is trying desperately to stand out of the spotlight at the back of the stage. Vince begrudgingly sings some background vocals so Corey can continue caterwauling over top. I don’t know if Vince was harmonizing out of tune on purpose but the effect was upsetting and hilarious. I love Vince. (Talent: 1 Embarrassment: 5 Enjoyment: 5)
Hammer arrives none too soon to clean up the mess. Dressed in a "funky" wig and glasses and some sort of white bodysuit, Hammer has transformed himself into Clive Rufus Brown. It shows that he has a true sense of performance and isn’t afraid to let it all hang out in the name of entertainment. For someone who once wore parachute pants, there really is nowhere to go but up. Clive spastically jerks about occasionally shouting into the microphone. His performance is a bizarrely fascinating mix of Flavor Flav, Bootsy Collins and Busta Rhymes and it’s over in just the right amount of time. (Talent: 2 Embarrassment: 1 Enjoyment: 4)
Emmanuel follows up with a pseudonym of his own. He’s Manny Mo, or as Monte Hall states, "What’s next in hip-hop." I had been wondering where hip-hop would go in the next decade and now I know. It seems that all those words that get in the way will finally be excised completely, as the next wave of hip-hop masters will wow their audiences with some serpentine body movements and low-impact breakdancing. I can’t wait until 2008. (Talent: 3 Embarrassment: 1 Enjoyment: 4)
Now on to Jerri. How does one turn a near-sociopathic personality into a performance? Why, with spoken word poetry of course! Jerri and the other two beatnik chicks sit on stools wearing berets. As she prattles on about fame, etc. the backup band of Brande and Gabrielle shake tambourines and make turkey noises. It’s all very tiresome and annoying, just like the works of Henry Rollins. (Talent: 1 Embarrassment: 3 Enjoyment: 1)
The show ends with a rousing number by Vince Neil, written just for this show. He calls it "The Surreal Life Blues" and it’s your basic 12-bar blues song but instead of singing about how his woman done him wrong he uses the song as an opportunity to take potshots at his housemates in public. While it’s no "Girls, Girls, Girls" it is not without its charm. Corey crowds the stage with guitar in hand. Thankfully someone talked him out of blowing his harp but the sight of him pawing at that guitar neck was no pretty picture. Memo to Corey: Maybe music isn’t your bag. (Talent: 3 Embarrassment: 1 Enjoyment: 4)
It’s a rousing ending to the show and Monte Hall gathers them all back on stage so the audience can vote on the winner. Whoever gets the most applause will get to spend the night in the big master bedroom. The housemates never knew this room existed. How big can the house possibly be that there are rooms they haven’t discovered yet? The winner will also get a role on a WB show. How big a role? What show? Who knows, but since Vince won by a narrow margin over Emmanuel, I suggest they put him on Gilmore Girls as a recurring character. If Jess really is getting his own show, that leaves a gaping hole in the role of Rory’s boyfriend that can only be filled by Vince. Hell, he could even romance Lorelai, since you know she was a big Crüe fan back in the day. What a storyline that could be. Anyhow, the celebrities end the night chatting with the audience and signing autographs. One guy claims that Vince, "hasn’t lost a thing." Well, that’s not entirely true. In fact, I think he’s gained some.
So do these seven have more talent than you or me? Are they brimming with ability, ready to explode? Do they possess something special which exemplifies why celebrities are set apart from the masses? Well, no they don’t but maybe this isn’t the best sample.
episode one: the giggle that never stops
episode two: the trouble with corey
episode three: talent is a relative term
episode four: st. vincent, patron saint
of rock
episode five: the perils of love and
fame
episode six: i hate corey feldman but
i love this show
episode seven: if you write your own
wedding vows, do not make them rhyme
