Sometimes even the most homely of nerds gets a chance. A gorgeous girl gives them that shot they've deserved after years trapped behind headgear. Hey, it might even work out - just look at Michael Douglas.
But as NBC's newest reality series "Average Joe" proves, that's just my own personal fantasy - and not reality. Sixteen lonely bachelors truck to a Palm Springs, Calif., mansion for such reassurance, although most of them haven't lost faith yet.
The show's introduction burns NBC's precious broadcast time in meticulous profiles of each bachelor. Of course, NBC knew they'd have to compensate if they spent 25 percent of their show summarizing 16 unsightly men. Random clips appear showing the beaming Melena Scantlin as she trots the beach in a two-piece swimsuit, and the ratings rise.
Finally, the camera pans to a pristine pool skirted with the bachelors, bellies a' flopping. Kathy Griffin delivers a tacky militaristic briefing, calling the Joes the "real men of America." They boozed, snoozed and sought sympathy from the camera.
Employing pity-drawing lines like, "I didn't date in high school," the historically dateless bachelors drench the audience in emotional sap. From real estate agents to accountants, from White House correspondents to club bounders, the 16 split into two groups: the thinkers and the drinkers.
The plot of "Average Joe" show is a facsimile of its predecessors. All reality shows boil down to three core elements. First, somebody has to be beautiful - otherwise ratings would plummet. It also must involve a mansion - with a vista - at the end of a snaking driveway. Someone is always cut at the end, underscored with incongruous tribal drumbeats.
While "Average Joe" vies for an original edge, Scantlin delivers hackneyed monologues that aim for insight but belong in a 5th grade poetry jam. I'd stop there if it weren't for a certain article I found in the New York Post.
The Post interviewed Stuart Krasnow, "Average Joe"'s executive producer, about an incident while taping the first episode. While Scantlin alleges her need to "settle down" and find a husband for life, she apparently flamed at the show's producers when she saw the bachelors. Unfortunately, that remained off camera.
To boot, the Post reported Scantlin later scampered out into the desert before she collected herself. Krasnow knew all the while. In fact, NBC producers seemed to suspect it. They even kept a Plan B girl in full hair and makeup behind the curtain just in case. Obviously suspicious, Krasnow explained he didn't feel Scantlin had fully sincere intentions in a later interview with the Boston Globe.
"Ninety-five percent of them aren't my type," Scanlin said.
Aside the fact she asserts liking 80 percent of a bachelor (if you do the math), her sincerity melts with her smile as each bachelor trips, waddles or saunters off the bus. Her grin deflates as her shoulders hunch and pigments redden. It must have made it much easier to cut those four guys later night after an off-camera rampage in the desert. She must have spent a few minutes rehearsing lines of false sympathy. Or it maybe it was those antiseptic hugs she gave the four rejects.
While the truth encroaches on Scanlin's false intentions, the show will air locally at 9 p.m. next Monday on Channel 12 (NBC).
Chris Kark is a reporter for the Web Devil. Reach him at christopher.kark@asu.edu.
