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Sunday, Jul 12, 2009
Bravo's "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" offers a whole new flavor of wicked fun for the makeover genre -- and brings the shame of being hetero out of the closet once and for all.
Jul 15, 2003 | "It's so ugly! Everything is so ugly!"
"It looks, actually, like you're nuts."
"The futon's scary-looking."
"Do you buy all your clothing at the Home Depot?"
Either Butch Schepel is hallucinating, or there are five gay men in his apartment, insulting everything from his crumpled mattress to his dirty jock strap.
Even a hole in the wall doesn't go unnoticed. "It's a glory hole!" one of the men cries, delighted. Then, soberly, he turns to Butch, determined to educate him. "Do you know what that's for?"
Welcome to "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" (premiering Tuesday, July 15, at 10 p.m.), Bravo's new makeover show starring five gay lifestyle experts intent on transforming hapless straight guys into ... well, slightly less hapless straight guys. Struggling to overcome such formidable obstacles as hopelessly out-of-date clothing, clueless furniture arrangement, and bad grooming habits, the "Fab Five" are tireless visionaries armed with swatches, blow dryers, wingtips and a bevy of smartass remarks.
Like an upbeat, West Hollywood version of "What Not to Wear" that's both wildly entertaining and unexpectedly earnest, "Queer Eye" seems destined to incite even more awe and envy than happily married gay cover boys Chip and Reichen on "The Amazing Race." But, exciting as it is to imagine unleashing the wicked wit and whimsy of gay culture onto Middle America, will the less informed imagine that all gay men are exactly like Jack on "Will & Grace"? Is the snarky gay man the wisecracking little black boy of the 2000s?
"Queer Eye" certainly offers banter that's a little more inspired than Gary Coleman's "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" Indeed, a steady stream of quips flows from the mouths of our experts as they assess the severity of the straight male crisis at hand, discarding empty shampoo bottles and irrevocably soiled boxers along the way. Within minutes, they have Butch's jock strap boiling in a pot on the stove. "Would you like some soy sauce with that?" Butch asks, getting into the spirit of things. "There was already soy sauce in it," fashion expert Carson Kressley responds, and then pauses to think. "Was it soy sauce or boy sauce? I can't remember."
The chaos and disarray of Butch's apartment has propelled interior designer Thom Filicia to the verge of an existential crisis. "There's nothing," he mumbles, shaking his head. "There's no thought in anything!"
But Carson seems to savor ripping Butch's fashion sense to shreds. As he removes sloppily folded clothes from the closet with a pair of tongs, he cracks, "Remember the Gap in '85? If you don't, here's a visual. Gap in '86. Gap in '87. Oh, and '88, what a year! What a year for 'oatmeal.'"
The next segment opens with testimonials from Butch's friends and family. "Butch's sense of style is very limited," says one friend. "His type of a work outfit is interchangeable with a farmer," says another. "That's actually kind of Butch's 'Let's go out' attire as well."
In another episode of the show, straight guy Adam Zalta's family is even less reserved. "Adam is hairy," says his wife. "He's got one eyebrow," says a friend. "It would be very nice if there were two."
"He looks like a clown," his wife summarizes.
In fact, the show seems designed not for straight men but for the exasperated women who love them -- and hate their acid-washed jeans. There's something undeniably gratifying about seeing these men -- who, so far, seem to be selected for their swarthy, hobbit-style looks -- getting shaved, buffed, waxed and, best of all, derided within an inch of their lives. No matter how loudly a wife or girlfriend bemoans the unshaven neck or the shirt with the pit stains, it doesn't have quite the impact of a gaggle of men who are this fervent about the rules of maintaining a lifestyle that is both sanitary and aesthetically pleasing.
At times, though, the Fab Five's conviction borders on the religious.
"That's a monobrow. It's never a good answer unless you're Frida Kahlo or Groucho Marx," says grooming expert Kyan Douglas.
"You never want to match your denims," proclaims Carson. "It looks like some crazy coordinated armor."
The solemn edicts just keep coming. Work that hair product in from the back. Keep those cookbooks in the kitchen. And who knew that, if you're using self-tanning products, you should exfoliate first, or that, if you're wearing an old-fashioned wingtip with a vintage flair, sockless is "the only way to go"?
