Trivia NYC/DSO Media

(Yes, I’m recapping America’s Most Smartest Model. Every Sunday’s episode goes up Tuesday morning. This week was an exception.)

The clanging pipe-bells of we’ve-gotten-serious here chime over the opening credits as Producer Cris Abrego wants us to know that the end is nigh for someone, even though it’s the first crack of morning after the ejection of the actual most smartest model, Daniel, from the competition.

(I’m no longer sure what the criteria are for winning this, if actual smarts and modeling ability aren’t at least near the top of the priority list. I’m assuming sucking up to Mary Alice will be involved, but after that, well, there’s a reason modeling should be left to trained professionals and not to plebeians such as myself or (probably) you.)

The dawn breaks. VJ rolls over, the big bed he shared with Torso Rachel now his alone, and he proclaims loudly to the camera, “There must be more to life than being really really ridiculously good looking.”

Angela, the know-it-all, doesn’t know something, and it’s bugging her. “I’m really upset that Daniel got sent home,” she says in matter-of-fact voice-over, as they show her solving the morning puzzle on the fridge (”[Something] in Italian,” I can’t make it out on my hamster-powered teevee). “But at the same time, I’m more just worried about doing what I need to do, and staying in the game.”

In the back yard, Andre exults. “See, look,” Pickel tells a very white Rachael, who’s catching some early rays, “all you gotta do is get rid of Daniel and suddenly he’s a nice guy.”

Andre: “I’m so stoked about today. I have a great alliance with Rachael, Pickel and Brett. I wanna scream, I’m so freakin’ happy, man. It’s just awesome, bro. Calm, collected –”

Pickel, the sane one, cuts him off. “It’s not just awesome. We still got a couple of people we gotta pick off. Then it’ll be peaceful.” (”VJ’s a huge prick, and Angela just pushes people away because she’s a know-it-all. So we’re targeting Angela and VJ.”)

Andre, however, will not be deterred from his joy. “I told them yesterday after elimination, you’re next, asshole. I got your fucking number. We’re gonna run over you, bro.”

“Final Four, here we come,” Pickel says, almost wearily. Sometimes the best alliances aren’t the obvious ones, and telling your target that they’re a target is not the way to catch them unsuspecting. But Andre grew up in Romania (sorry, Sovyutland), and so he doesn’t understand that, even though I suspect the KGB didn’t exactly phone ahead with their plans neither. But he’s happy right now, and that’s the important thing.

The note du jour arrives, along with a set of workout clothes and running sneakers for each model. Because the fearsome foursome is off sunning, and Dim Veasel is maintaining his sexy full-time, Angela happens upon it first. They all come in for the reading.

Good Morning, Models!
Today, you will be put through a grueling test of both your bodies and your minds. Divide yourself into teams of two, put on this workout gear, and meet me out in the living room in one hour.

What, Mary Alice isn’t signing the notes anymore? (Or checking them for grammar, apparently. “Divide yourself?” What are they, amoebas?)

VJ immediately turns to Andre. “Wanna team up?” Andre looks at him, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Everyone else in he room pulls up a lawnchair, picks up a bowl of popcorn, and watches Andre squirm. “Wanna try it out?” Andre shrugs. “I don’t know… um…” The Veasel presses him. “Try it out.”

Andre makes a time-out sign. “Uh… I wanna take a moment, breathe, then choose… I’ll be fine, and so will you. You saw what happened last time. Fucking Daniel’s out. Thank God for that.” I believe Andre just got schooled, and from VJ’s smirk, he knows it. He’s not the best model, he’s certainly not the smartest model, but if the entirety of human existence were a reality show (and if you parcel yourself out correctly, it can be), he might have the tools to go a long way.

Maybe VJ could become a lobbyist in Washington. He’s certainly got the moral vacuum for it. (Andre: “I really don’t want to compete with VJ. He’s disgusting, and he’s a snaky bastard.”)

Angela jumps in (”I don’t agree with the way that VJ is playing the game, but I just decided to make him my ally so that he wouldn’t sabotage me.”) and snaps him up. (VJ: “I’ll use my brains with her beauty and my fitness and her smarts, it’s just, like, good team.”) A fist-bump becomes a chest-bump, and the camera cuts away before they go any further.

Meanwhile, the gang of four are having a quiet powwow in the bathroom. Pickel starts. “Let’s put it this way. The four of us are in the top four anyways.”

Brett: “They’re going down. They’re going down. I’m sorry.”

Andre: “You guys going to be together again?”

Brett & Pickel step over each other, finishing each other’s sentences like they’ve been bee eff effs since forever. If I was Rachael, I’d be jealous of what they have. Between them, they pep-talk Andre: “Here’s the thing. Don’t think of it as us versus you. Think of it as us versus them. We’re the team.”

(Andre’s on message: “It doesn’t matter who wins, as long as VJ and Angela are in the bottom three.”)

* * *

Note: They’re recruiting for AMSM Season 2. I don’t wanna do it, but someone we know should.

* * *

The models all jog into the Judgment Room, which has three treadmills set up beside three podiums. Everyone is finally allied with someone, and so there’s a general level of optimism not seen in a long time before, and which, if Mary Alice has her way, we won’t see again, probably ever.

Ben Stein appears in this episode about 50 minutes earlier than he first appeared in last week’s. So nice of him to join us. Mary Alice sits beside a podium, while Ben stands behind it, and gives the directions. “Here’s how it works. In the first part of the challenge, one of you will have to think fast, by answering a series of rapid-fire questions. How you score will determine how fast your partner has to run on the treadmill.”

Mary Alice: “The team with the last member standing will get an edge for tomorrow’s Callback Challenge.”

So they’re having another Smart-Off? I thought being smart wasn’t memorizing information that is often not used. Ehh, I guess they haven’t completely destroyed the premise of the show yet. Let’s see what this does to it.

Brett, Andre and the Veasel step to the treadmills, while Pickel, Rachael & Angela are on question answering duty. Since they’re all getting the same questions, Rachael & Angela head off to the back bedroom to be sequestered while Pickel gets the questions first.

As the women leave the room, Andre stage-whispers, “Pickel!” so subtly, it stopped conversation in the whole room cold. Pickel turns, and Andre gives him the thumbs-up wink. I sense that Andre has never really had close friends before, and so the whole idea of alliances is kind of beyond him. He wouldn’t know the Down Low if it crawled out of the sewers and spoke Russian to him. Though admittedly, that’d be mostly because he doesn’t understand Russian.

The object of the quiz is to answer as many questions correctly as possible in one minute. He’s allowed to say “pass” if he blanks on something. So, this is going to be rapid-fire. Mary Alice is on stopwatch duty. So glad they’re using her on this show. I mean, it’s not like we’d ever have known she was involved with the show. Jeezus. She gets more airtime standing in front of superior models than even Tyra Banks does these days.

Ben starts. “Name a primary color.” Pickel grabs the podium. “Blue.”
“Name a prime number.” “Uh, … 2.”
“Name a planet.” “Mars.”
“Name a continent.” “Asia.”
“Name a country in Europe.” “England.”
“Name a city in Germany.” “Hamburg.”
“Name a designer in Italy.” “Dolce & Gabbana.”
“Name a river in France.” “…Suez?”
“Name a waterfall.” “Niagara Falls.”
“Name a water fowl.” “Pass.”
“Name a sea mammal.” “…seal.”
“Name a word that starts with C.” “Cat.”
“Name a Vitamin.” “Um, phosphorous?”

Aside from the pauses and the fact that he completely missed the Sea Mammal/Starts With C/Name a Vitamin triad, he did alright. I count 10 out of 13, which on a similar rapid-fire-easy-question show like The Weakest Link (or the final round of Win Ben Stein’s Money, come to think of it) would leave you with a lot of bank. I don’t know if I’d have done a whole lot better, and I’m a suuupergenius.

Angela is next. Red, 3, Saturn, North America, France, Munich, pass, pass, Niagara Falls, Duck, Whale, Carrot, C, and we’re in new ground.
“Name an element.” “Carbon.”
“Name a type of rock.” “Igneous.”
“Name a city in Iraq.” “Pass.”
“Name a rock star.” “Aerosmith.”

She’s the smartest person remaining, so it makes sense that she’d do better. Again, she is not the weakest link.

Mary Alice decides to take her to task for not being able to name an Italian designer. “Part of being a top model is knowing the top Italian designers,” she says, sneering at her as if Angela has just fallen off the turnip truck. I don’t know if Mary Alice knew this in advance, but rapid-fire trivia contests are not typically part of being a model, and Angela is one of more than a few contestants on this show that have actually been employed by various Italian fashion houses, and if it doesn’t bug them that someone couldn’t come up with Versace or Gucci or Benetton or whoever with a figurative gun to their head, then maybe she should take that into effect. Personally, I just think she saw the camera wasn’t pointed straight at her for a moment there, and she had to take someone to task for something. It’s like prison. You have to beat someone up every once in a while, or someone might think you’re soft.

Or so I have read.

Rachael comes out last. (”This is tense! I’m anxious, I’m nervous… if I don’t answer enough questions correctly, Andre’s gonna throw me in the pool.”)

Blue, 7, Mercury, Australia, France, Munich, Galliano, pass, Niagara, Duck, Manatee, Cat, B12, Iron, Igneous, Kuwait, …time. One wrong, one pass. Nice work. (Two people guessed “Igneous?” Righteous!)

The final scores: Compared to Pickel’s 10, Angela and Rachael tied with 13. Interesting. To me.

The fallout, which I’m sure was calculated using a very complicated algorithm, has VJ & Andre running on a 6 setting on the treadmills, while Brett has to run at level 9. Andre flexes in approval. No throwing of Rachael in the pool tonight! Probably.

Andre tells the camera that it’s up to him to take down VJ, because Brett is in inferior shape to the other two, and he has to run half again as fast.

VJ & Andre start off at a jog, while Brett’s at almost a full sprint. Pickel apologizes to him, but there’s not a lot to do at this point. After about five minutes, Brett wonders if he should pull the plug. He could go a while longer, but Pickel is telling him to stop. “The last thing you need is to pull a muscle and fuck yourself up for the rest of the competition.” Brett jumps off the treadmill, and Pickel gives an it’s-all-you point to Andre. (”I’m just hoping the Soviet can pull it off somehow,” he says, suddenly deciding that cheering for our Cold War enemies is somehow the right thing to do. Well, I never!)

(Andre: “I pray to dear God himself and all his armies that I can fucking destroy that fucking asshole VJ.”)

We’ve been hearing that since the beginning of the episode, but Angela and VJ are talking similar trash. “We’ve gotta get that Soviet out of this house,” she says, quietly. “This is for America!” VJ replies. Clearly, he’s the first to notice that there are cameras all over the place, and they’re looking for soundbites and narrative angles. He’s not dumb, he’s just unable to express emotion. There’s a difference.

They go on. Mary Alice looks up from whatever she’s reading. “How you feeling, Andre?” “I’m feeling … Soviet.”

After 40 minutes, they raise the speed of the treadmills to 7 mph. (So it’s not a setting, it’s just a speed. Okay.) Ben & Mary Alice get bored. She’s reading portfolios or something, Ben is texting someone, and VJ sees this and leans forward, putting his weight on the treadmill. Andre sees this, and he speaks up. (Everyone else in the room saw it too. Why no one else said anything, and it fell to the guy doing all the heavy work to speak up, is, well, okay, it doesn’t surprise me. They are still models.) “Guys! Guys! He’s putting all his weight on the bar!”

Ben doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Would you stop complaining, please!” he shouts at Andre, like a pro wrestling referee, just part of the show.

(It might be that Ben Stein, being a former operative for Richard Nixon, is just appreciative of the dirty tricks and underhandedness the Veasel is bringing to the table. Now that I type that out, it could very easily be true.)

At 60 minutes, they bump the speed up to 8 miles an hour. The music coalesces into a John Williamsesque dirge as the minicams on the treadmill are covered with the sweat of the two contestants.

Pickel and Brett are catching the show that Ben & Mary Alice can’t be bothered to look up to see. They’re marveling at what a machine Andre is. Pickel actually makes the Ivan Drago comparison, and it’s as apt as it’s ever going to be right now, with Andre sweating and stoic, being shot from below like a colossus.

Then in the middle of all this drama, Rachael, while spritzing him with water, gets some in his eyes and down his throat by accident, which causes him to gag and sputter, and at 1:12, he quits, giving VJ and Angela the win in the challenge.

The applause rouses Mary Alice from her nap. Ben watched the last few minutes and was able to muster some enthusiasm for the effort he saw, which was nice.

Angela and the Veasel won a changing station very close to the runway where they’ll be doing a quick-change fashion show the next day (Next day? They’re doing this tomorrow? They should do this in a half hour. The runners get a shower and then it’s straight to the catwalk! In Soviet Russia, Cat Walks You!), while the rest will have a longer trip.

They leave the Judgement Room, and there’s a note waiting for VJ.

Models,

A slight twist for tomorrow’s Fashion Show Callback Challenge. VJ & Angela, since you won the edge, you get to pick one other person to share your close-proximity changing room with you while the other three languish in the faraway changing room.

Since you all need to nail tomorrow, I recommend you practice your runway walks tonight.

Mary Alice

VJ is pissed. “We earned this, and now we gotta bring someone else into it that didn’t earn it. It’s like a freebie.” Yeah, Dim Veasel, because you’ve never got something you didn’t earn. Not more than two or three times per episode of this show, and that leaves out the other 47 out of 48 hours of tape that make up each episode.

They choose Rachael to join them in the good changing room, because they have to choose someone. Rachael is ambivalent about “abandoning the alliance,” but she knows better than to turn it down.

Pickel paints a happy face on it to Brett & Andre. “Those guys put the best three guys together. I don’t care if it’s in fucking Egypt to run back & change and come back.”

Andre laughs. “That’s what I say, bro. One of us has more experience than all three of them combined. We’re not the underdogs here.”

(Angela is still in the room, and of all the things said this episode, she decides to let that get to her. “When I hear other people deciding how much experience I have, and what potential I have, well, we’ll see it at tomorrow’s challenge.”) “I have a lot of runway experience, just so you know,” she tosses at them.
Andre: “What shows have you worked? What clients, specifically?”
Angela raises an eyebrow. “Enough.”
Brett mutters, “I never heard of them,” which cracks the three guys up.

Thing is, everyone still in the competition is a working model already. (Daniel may have been the last one that was still trying to get into the business.) They may have inflated their credentials when they talked themselves up in the first episode, but they all have representation, if they have second jobs at all they’re part time at most, and they’re earning money in the business. Some may have more experience than others, but everyone’s got some.

Angela puts on some sweats, as if she’s going to go for a run, but instead she goes downstairs, puts on her heels, and practices her runway walk in the dark.

* * *

A funky montage with everyone getting their hair and makeup done by people we’ve not been introduced to (so, not friends of Mary Alice, but people they actually had to hire in, horrors!), and once everyone’s at least rudimentarily dolled up, they meet outside by the pool, where Mary Alice and Ben are waiting.

Today’s challenge is a quick-change three-outfit fashion show in the Judgement Room. VJ, Angela and Rachael get to use the change room right beside the runway, while the guys have to change outside across the pool. Now, it’s not just the extra few feet separating the two groups; the guys also have to negotiate an obstacle course every time they come back for a new change. The obstacle course consists of a balance beam across the pool, then some monkey bars over a mud pit, then sprinting through some tires, followed by a “dizzy bat race” segment: five rotations with a baseball bat on your forehead. They have fifteen minutes to present three outfits each. As Mary Alice is explaining this, Pickel starts shaking his head and laughing.

The obligatory Mary-Alice’s-friend of this episode is someone named John Pfiefer, a model casting agent who doesn’t seem to exist outside of this show.

(This is what happens when you believe everything someone tells you in a bar, Mary Alice. Sometimes all-networking, all-mercenary, all-the-time isn’t a policy that gets you the best results. Just saying.)

Anyway, this guy and Mary Alice will be judging the fashion show, and he’ll be blind to who has the advantage and who’s just finished a dizzy bat race before stepping on the runway.

Rachael is beyond relieved that she was spared this: “There’s no way I would have been able to complete the obstacle course. Do you know how hard it is to run in stilettos?” Oh, you don’t have to tell me, honey. Frankly, I’d just hold them in my teeth until I cleared the course.

Angela, Rachael & VJ go first, and they frantically spring into action. Angela & VJ are only looking out for themselves, and whoever gets finished first hits the runway first. Angela’s hair is blown out to almost Erykah Baduesque proportions, and she comes out and calmly works her first outfit to the great appreciation of Mary Alice & “John Pfiefer,” who sit together and mutter appreciatively under their breaths.

VJ comes on and sprints up & down the runway like he’s got a plane to catch. Mary Alice mentions, “Tommy Hilfiger,” and “John Pfiefer” nods excitedly. “Yes! I put a TH right here!,” he says, pointing to his clipboard. Aww, somebody’s looking for a gold star!

Rachael comes up next, and her pumps are too big. You can hear the clomping like a horse. (”This is just devastating. I must look like I had a pole up my ass as I moved down the runway.” Well, a little.) The horse-whinny effect at the end of her run was kind of overkill, though Mary Alice and “John Pfiefer” titter into each other’s shoulders like schoolchildren at the end of the runway.

Next up is the formal outfit. Angela’s dress doesn’t fit, but she works it hard, and Mary Alice & “John Pfiefer” marvel at how elegant she looks. No discussion of form or anything. Just a lot of fantastic and wow and oooh. Very scientific. Ben would be proud if he was in the room instead of in the back with a stopwatch watching over the changes.

Angela gets off the runway and sprints back to the change room. The guys can see her, and realize that if they have to run, then they’re going to have a much harder time of it if they want to each get three outfits in 15 minutes. VJ appears in a tux, and while Mary Alice does her usual drool job over him, he voiceovers how he realizes how every-man-for-himself this is, and how he needed to make sure he got all his wardrobes on the runway, regardless.

Rachael goes out, does her thing, and comes back (the clock says 6 minutes left; they’re making good time, especially since the last change is a swimsuit), and before Angela can go out for her third turn, VJ cuts in front of her, picks up a beach ball, and runs straight out. He hits the runway, smacks the ball at the two of them, and ducks out the side door, while “John Pfiefer” and Mary Alice whisper to each other about how “divine” his body is, and how “playful” the beach ball prop was. His walk, quite frankly, was crap, and I haven’t been to a million fashion shows, but typically, hurling projectiles into the audience isn’t generally a good thing, but I understand AMSM left reality behind a long time ago. Everyone involved with this show has been swallowed into Mary Alice’s boozy dementia for a couple of episodes now. I sense she’s decided who’s going to win the whole thing already, and we’re just going to watch it unfold as she sees it, as opposed to who actually is the Smartest Model.

I just sense this.

There’s a long pause before Rachael finally gets her stuff on and gets out. She finally shows up in a bikini and heels, and at the top of the walk, one earring falls out, and then the other a step later. They make sure you can hear them clang on the floor. (”Here we go again,” she says ruefully.) She troops on over the gasps of the judges, and then Angela goes last (why didn’t she go after VJ? She got a nice long break where Rachael could have used it, and Rachael is the loser in that exchange? Something was left out in editing.)

The next round is the three guys. They decide to work as a team, and help each other out with getting their kits on. Too bad this show isn’t about being nice to the people around you, in case you might work with them again. (Am I being too bitchy and excessively editorial about this stuff? I’ll try to cut down. No promises, though.)

They all chant their allegiance, and Andre strips to his skivvies, and screams, “By the gods of fashion!” while they turn his body blue in postproduction and add lightning bolts for Wagnerian effect. You know, when he’s not misrepresenting his age or his ancestry, or sexually assaulting people in nightclubs or doing jail time, he’s a decent dude who means well.

(Pickel: “It’s balls to the grindstone, man, it’s time to knock this one out.”)

Ben counts them in, and they get dressed. Andre goes first (Ben, smiling: “Russian army training coming through?”), but everyone goes through in sequence, as opposed to one at a time. Couple of close calls, but no mishaps. Andre gets to the dizzy bat first, and the five spins seem to take forever, and when he’s done he falls over into the padding they set up beside the bushes. That was nice of them. He laughs at the stupidity of this exercise.

VJ watches this through the window of their dressing room, and can’t understand why they would work together. There’s about two frames of Rachael, but it’s enough to catch that she couldn’t explain to him if she wanted to.

Brett hits the runway first, and the frantic music of the last minute gives way to soft muzak, as they do their thing. “Very casual,” “John Pfiefer” says, and Mary Alice bounces it back. “He looks a little… preturbed.” Well, he is concentrating on maintaining his balance after a dizzy bat race. I’m just saying.

Pickel comes right afterward, which surprises them, and then Andre comes immediately after Pickel, and gives Mary Alice a wink as he turns to walk back. Mary Alice is scandalized. “Did he just wink?” “I saw that!” says “John Pfiefer.” Clearly, there’s no winking in modeling.

The three of them rush back as soon as their turn is done, stripping off their clothes for the next round. Ben looks at the stopwatch: nine minutes left. They’re slightly behind time. The three of them are naked and frantically tearing at their formal wear (Ben, always angling for syndication and re-run possibilities: “Excellent grist for the gay-themed channel… Parris Island for models.”) Andre helps Brett with his tie, Pickel threads Andre’s belt, and off they go again.

In the Judgement Room, Mary Alice wonders aloud, “What is going on out there?” [Extra editorializing about Mary Alice’s attention span redacted.]

Rachael is watching them from the window, and pulling for “her boys. Just one of us has to pull through to beat VJ.”

Brett comes on, and though they haven’t shown it, I get the feeling he’s had a harder time with the dizzy bat than they’re letting on. He looks a bit green. Mary Alice is convinced he’s angry about something. No mention of his look or their presentation. “He looked a little upset or something.”

Pickel comes on right afterward, in the best tux of the four. “John Pfiefer” asks Mary Alice, “What kind of name is Pickel?” (Jeff answers to the camera, while they play a ripoff of the Bond theme: “The Name is Pickel. Jeff Pickel. I just got out of a mission running through the obstacle course, followed by James Bond walking down the runway.”)

He opens the jacket to show the vest underneath, and Mary Alice mistakes it for a Chippendales move. (Which it would have been, except he was wearing three layers of clothing underneath: an undershirt, a dress shirt, and a fully-buttoned vest. Even in slow motion, I detected no hip-thrust and no licking of lips. But hey, it’s not my show.)

To make matters worse, Andre comes on last and blows a kiss to the camera at center stage. Mary Alice is absolutely scandalized at this point. What is she, Amish? [Redacted, redacted, redacted.]

Back in the backyard, there’s five minutes left. Ben is appreciative of their teamwork, at least. VJ, Angela and Rachael are all watching them now. “They’re working as a team,” Rachael says, with admiration. Angela, the know-it-all, turns to her. “In a real show, the models don’t help each other.” In a real show, Angela, there’s a million handlers and helpers, and oh yeah, they don’t have to go through a dizzy bat race three times in 15 minutes, you dizzy bat. Rachael smiles calmly, and has a simpler comeback than mine would have been. “Yeah, I know. They’re giving a good demonstration of teamwork.”

“Look at them go,” VJ says, his thousand-yard stare overshooting the action by about 985 yards.

They all show up for their swimsuit round. Brett now has a bit of a smile. Maybe he spun the other way on the bat this time. “John Pfiefer” mentions how Brett’s pretty sexy, while Mary Alice purses her lips. Pickel is next, and he does almost exactly the same beach-ball thing that VJ did. Mary Alice suddenly finds it a negative now: “I don’t know if runway’s his thing, really.” And Andre shows up with a bright blue air mattress. “It’s just way too over the top,” she dismisses the three of them, perhaps unaware that they can only model what they’re given to model with.

Brett thinks they did great, and honestly, I thought so too, but I don’t think that opinion is going to be unanimous.

Rachael, on the other hand, is convinced that she’s going home. The bad shoes & the dropped earrings give her the impression that she really let the alliance down. There’s a nice three-shot of her, VJ and Angela, shoulder to shoulder, facing three different directions, completely not interacting in any way. Just like in a real show, where models don’t help each other.

* * *

Everyone troops back in in their swimwear for the judgement. “Good job, models,” Mary Alice lies. Once they’ve all lined up, they start with the assessments. VJ is first. “John Pfiefer” thought he did a good job, though he didn’t like the pimp roll in his walk. (In replay, they show it, and you can see him favoring one hip over the other.) Rachael is next, and while Mary Alice mentioned the earrings falling off, “John Pfiefer” gives her brownie points for dealing with adversity and not letting it faze her. He says “brownie points” twice, the second time with a bit of a naughty grin. This guy might even be straight.

Mary Alice’s whole tone changed when she moved on. “Angela! Wow! Angela! You were fantastic! I’m very, very impressed! Today was the first time you were a model.”

Angela spits, “I have a lot of runway experience, just so you know.”

Well, okay, she said that earlier in the episode. What she actually says now is, “You know what, Mary Alice? After everybody went to bed last night, I went up there and I walked that runway for a long time.”

Mary Alice is effusive. “The most improved in this competition. I am very proud of you.” Her voice changes back. “So, Andre. First and foremost, you did two things that drove me crazy. You winked, and then the second or third time, you went down and you blew a kiss. Those are two big no-nos, honey. On the runway you do not do that kind of thing.” By the end of this speech, her finger is up, and we learned at the end of Episode 4, it’s not confrontational until the index finger comes up.

“John Pfeifer” piles on. “The note I made when I first saw you was that you’re not a model. I thought you were an actor playing a model.”

Andre has learned enough to not snap Mary Alice’s head off at the stem. To the camera, though, he sets things straight, or as straight as he’s willing to let things get. “John, I’m a Boss model, buddy. And I make money this way. So I guess there’s a clientele that you probably don’t know about.” He’s surprisingly calm in saying that. Perhaps they put some saltpeter in his rice & beans.

Pickel is next. “Tuxedo looked great. The one thing is you kind of tried to give us a little Chippendale open-up tuxedo at the end of the runway, and you couldn’t quite do it and it looked a little cheesy…” They show him opening the jacket, and it looks decidedly like he’s showing the vest off. Pickel is bewildered as well. Clearly, the sexytime was not on his mind. Perhaps Mary Alice is only seeing beef on the hoof. Yeah, perhaps.

“Brett. You didn’t do such a good job. Both John & I felt that you actually looked mean. The first two looks, you looked pissed!” (To save you looking upward for the transcriptions, just replace “John & I” with “I,” and you’ll have what really happened.) Brett explains that he was clenching his jaw, but she’s having none of it. “Where’d you learn that?” she says, derisively, and “John” repeats it a half-second behind her.

Brett comes up with a solid argument. “Look, I’ve won both runways, why would I change anything?”

“Well, maybe you’re a little overconfident, then.”

“There’s no criticism on the other ones.”

Mary Alice is tired of this discussion. “Brett, quit while you’re ahead,” she waves him away, trying to shut this down while she’s ahead. Ben has his co-host’s back. “America’s Most Smartest Model makes his points and then he doesn’t get …” At which point his sentence got buried in crosstalk from Mary Alice and Brett, who had clearly stopped arguing his point.

The upshot of all this discomfort is that Angela won the challenge, and gets immunity from elimination. She gloats to the camera, and Pickel mentions how he’s got a bad feeling about tonight, and he has no one to blame but himself.

Back in the common room, Andre is mimicking Mary Alice to Brett. “Angela! You finally nailed it! After 15 competitions, you finally won… one!” Brett smiles, at least temporarily cheered up. Andre keeps going. “She’d starve to death in the real world. You get one job every fifteen castings?”

Just then Angela walks through the room. A beat of silence, and then Andre decides to troll her. “Yo.”

She stops, bulletproof for at least the rest of the day and knowing it. “What’s up?”

“How you gonna sit there and fucking take credit for everything when you know that people helped you with your walk and stuff like that? I don’t mind, but –”

“What are you talking about, take credit for everything?”

(Andre, to the camera: “I taught her how to walk, and now suddenly she’s taken full credit for it! How dare she!” as they show the footage from the shapes episode where he’s coaching her to not stick her hips too far out of that terrible all-triangle dress. I don’t know if I’d call that teaching her how to walk, but whatever.)

“If anything, I said I went upstairs last night and walked a bunch. That’s all I said. Which I did do. I went upstairs and walked for about an hour last night.”

“I know, but before that, people were helping you.”

“I didn’t say nobody didn’t help me or anything. You need to just relax.”

“But you also didn’t say that people did help you with your walk.”

(Angela gets her say: “I went and walked that runway last night, not him. And I went and won that challenge today.”)

Back in the bedrooms, Brett is being all pensive at Pickel and Andre. “Nowadays, the only way you’re safe is if you win.”

A round of agreement. “That’s it.” “Yeah.” “You’re right.” “That’s it, bro.”

Brett and Pickel are resigned to being in the bottom three tonight. Andre, having got his daily confrontation out of the way already, just nods and shrugs sadly in the corner.

* * *

Everyone troops into the Judgement Room. Angela expects Brett to go home. Pickel thinks he’s going home. Brett expects to be in the bottom three. I’m expecting two out of three of these predictions will turn out to be correct. I just don’t know which two.

Mary Alice is wearing a hideous blue dress that looks more like a satin cloth she took with her when she stood up from the dinner table tonight. Her voice is up in her throat, like she’s suppressing a wave of nausea. “Good evening, models. Well, I expected to call a young lady down here tonight. But both of you stepped it up in the Think Fast challenge and in your modeling game today. Very, very impressive, both of you, and you’re both safe tonight. VJ, you were fabulous on that treadmill yesterday, and you did great today. So that leaves the three of you. Please step down.”

The Veasel gloats to the camera about his three worst enemies being the three on the block. Pickel knows this is the end for either him or one of his closest friends.

“Brett. Today, I actually found you combative and disrespectful to both John and I. You really didn’t agree with or listen to what we were saying, queshioning my authority as a judge,” she says, slurring questioning pretty badly.

Brett apologizes on the record. “I do apologize for that. I should have taken your, y’know, criticism. I was just thrown off guard. I thought I’d done well on the other two runways –”

“You did great then. You’re only as good as your last job. It’s about consistency and getting better and better as you go in this competition.”

“No, I agree, but –”

Ben puts the train of thought back on the track. “See, it’s like this. The show comes down to something really simple: Mary Alice’s views of your fashion sense and modeling ability, and my view about your brains and intelligence.”
Mary Alice almost comes out and tells us to stop watching: “Basically, if you don’t value my opinion, you shouldn’t be here.”

(Brett: “Wow, this absolutely sucks. It’s a terrible feeling, my heart is palpitating. At this point, I think I’m going home.”)

* * *

Mary Alice. “Pickel. You bombed in the Think Fast challenge.”

Pickel stammers. “I was disappointed, believe me. I was disappointed in myself, and I was even more disappointed that I threw him under the bus.”

Ben: “The sad fact is that this late in the game it can be about one bad day.”

Mary Alice nods. “And individually, Pickel, I haven’t seen you fly individually. As a team, you guys have done well, you & Brett have done well, but I am concerned if you are truly smart enough or truly model enough to be America’s most smartest model.”

She turns to Andre. “Andre, you’re clearly one of the stronger models in this competition. You have the most experience. But today on the runway, you were a disaster…”

(Andre, to the camera: “Based on what? So I blow some kisses, to the people, to the crowd, to the photographers? I’ve done it before, for great, great designers. Why can’t I do it now?”)

“…so Pickel had his bad day yesterday and Andre, you had your bad day today. But. You seem to be forming alliances and getting along with the other team members.”

Ben cuts in with a rare useful piece of information about the models. “I was very impressed when I saw him, you didn’t see this, Mary Alice. He was so good at helping his teammates. It was like a whole new Andre. I was extremely impressed.”

Andre shrugs. “See, I’m very loyal to my friends, and I play fair.”

Mary Alice dangles the hook… “So you three of you have formed alliances.”

…and Andre bites. “Four of us.”

“Four? Who else?”

“Baby Rachael.” (Standing beside him, Pickel and Brett’s shoulders sink. Way to reveal the plan to the enemy, asshole.) (Also, Baby Rachael?)

“VJ, what do you think about this alliance?”

The strangest thing happens here. VJ smiles. He actually smiles. He’s the alpha heel, and now everyone knows it. “Well, I never knew about an alliance. What do I think of it? It is what it is. I’m here for me, and I think we’re all here for ourselves, whether they’re saying it or not. Come on, guys, don’t bullshit anybody. We’re all here for ourselves.” (”Alliance? Please. Try and get me kicked off. You just made a big fucking mistake.”)

Ben is very impressed with that answer. Me, I’m just impressed his face moved. It might be the lighting in the Judgement Room, but I’m happy for even the illusion of movement in VJ’s animatronic botox-ad face.

Ben: “It is a very difficult decision. It’s not like the days of Mandy Lynn, but we’ve come to an agonizing decision, but we have to tell you, though it breaks our heart, that like the Soviet Space Station Mir upon its re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere…”

(…a nice long red-herring shot of Andre staring Ben Stein down…)

“…Pickel, you have been obliterated. I am genuinely sorry.”

He hugs everybody about four times, he kisses Rachael goodbye, and he turns around, and Brett is sobbing. He hugs Brett one last time, and it’s clear his TV Best Bud is going to miss him more than his TV Girlfriend. Either way, with the Most Smartest Model out of the house last week, and the one person nobody hated out this week, next week will only get nastier and more arbitrary.

I’ll miss Pickel too, but he’ll get plenty of work from his time here if he wants it.

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