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Tuesday, Nov 24, 2009
A whole buncha losers, that's who. Married's just another word for nothing left to lose.
Feb 16, 2000 | God, the networks screw everything up.
Fox flies in 50 women "from all over the world" (OK, several U.S. states and a handful of former Eastern Bloc nations) to the "wedding capital of the world" (the Las Vegas Hilton) to compete, pageant-style (swimsuits, questions), for "the biggest prize of all" -- wait for it, ladies --"a brand-new multimillionaire husband" they've never laid eyes upon and then ... this?
Who knew depravity could be so dull?
Sure, Fox tried Tuesday night: It had the requisite post-industrial, post-Regis, post-Clooney Batcave set in muted, steely grays to suggest other hit shows; it had a catch phrase, "Mrs. Multimillionaire" (sadly inapplicable in many everyday situations); it played unsettling "Is that your final answer?" music; it had a high-rent version of "phone-a-friend" (fly in 80 friends and relatives and make them vote on the stranger who's right for you); it even had a title in the form of a question -- "Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?" And, of course, it was "making television history" by marrying total strangers on TV. Still, Fox went about it all wrong.
For one thing, the specter of "wholesome sex" clung to this sad parade like a silent fart in a crowded elevator. Why not just go all out? Call the show "People Will Do Anything for Money" or "America's Funniest Prostitutes"? They could have had a Sultan of Brunei/modern harem-girl theme. Or Caligula. They could have had contestants gouge each other's eyes out in their wedding dresses in a mud-filled ring. Something cute like that.
Instead, Fox gave the 50 contestants, ranging in age from 19 to 45 (with most falling within the 25 to 32 range) roughly five seconds to tell "Mr. Multimillionaire" -- safely sequestered in his booth, occasionally flashing a thumb -- a little bit about themselves. "Hi, I'm from Kansas City, Mo., but my breasts are from Southern California." Stuff like that.
Later, once contestants had been pared down to 10 semifinalists, they got a chance to go a bit deeper. Some made clumsy attempts at suggestive remarks (a former cheerleader: "I'm really good at 'sit and spin!'") before dissolving (I alluded to sex! Ha, ha! Snort! Ha! Pfft!) into pools of giggles.
The whole network procurement angle was discreetly downplayed. Even the "beachwear competition" was prudish, with contestants demurely draping their nethers in pareos and tiny skirts. There was only one playmate type in the original lineup: a 20-year-old "professional student" who, utterly convinced -- look around! -- that she was going to win, had the gall to introduce herself as "possibly your future bride-to-be." That got her crossed off the list good-like.
Here and there, we were treated to glimpses of the back of the blushing groom's head. That he was in possession of the back of a head, as well as several million dollars, was all we knew of him. It was all the contestants knew of him. It was all, ostensibly, anyone but Next Entertainment producers Mike Fleiss and Don Weiner knew of him -- though they do say you can tell a lot about a man by his mother. She came prepared with a sound bite: "It's going to be an interesting evening." My, what sang-froid. It's no doubt been an interesting mother.
The producers, after having spent time with Multi and ascertaining what it was he was "looking for in an ideal woman," developed a quiz to help weed out the pretenders and find that special someone. After the 50 were whittled down to 10 potential helpmeets, the finalists took the hot seat. Questions were designed to assess the moral rectitude of the prospective brides. They went something like this:
1) Are you going to make me jealous?
2) Are you a slut?
3) Are you planning on spending all my money?
4) Are you going to hassle me about my extramarital affairs?
5) Are you going to make me jealous?
6) Are you planning on spending all my money?
7) Are you going to hassle me about my extramarital affairs?
8) Are you planning on spending all my money?
9) Are you planning on spending all my money?
10) Are you a slut/Are you planning on spending all my money?
Contestants were narrowed down to five finalists (and it worked out great, because there was one of everything): a fresh-faced bitch, 26; an adorable blond idiot, 20; a fiery redhead who must have been Catholic because shame came and bit her in the ass halfway through the proceedings, lending her an anxious, downcast quality, 32; a slightly unhinged party girl with braces still on, 23; and, finally, the dark horse who came from behind (no one was as surprised as she): a platinum-blond emergency-room nurse with old-fashioned values, 34.
