Is It Time to Break Up With the Real Housewives?

Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture. [Manage newsletters]( [View in browser]( [Image] with Kevin Fallon Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture. This Week: - The Real Housewives existential crisis. - Death, taxes, and watching trash on Netflix. - Cinema returns with Adam Driver’s musical cunnilingus. - I think you should watch I Think You Should Leave. - Pfizer, Moderna, and, now, AstraTubbica. The Ugly Leather Pants of TV You know that feeling that happens sometimes in life where you’re like, “How is this family?” Or, “How did my friends get like this?” That’s how I’m feeling about [my beloved Real Housewives](. Like family, like friends, you always knew they weren’t, per se, good people. But they were yours, and you loved them for it. Yet are we at a breaking point? There was a moment in this week’s [The Real Housewives of New York City](, specifically when [new cast member Eboni K. Williams]( hurled the grenade, “Do you support white supremacy?” into a boozy dinner in the middle of COVID lockdowns at a haunted tattoo parlor in Salem that they arrived at on a rock band’s tour bus, where, for maybe the first time in my long history with the franchise, I wondered, “Do I even like this anymore?” It’s not that I don’t think [serious issues like race]( or politics or the fact that Ramona Singer absolutely voted for Trump but is too chickenshit to admit it because she thinks it will lose her Instagram followers shouldn’t be talked about on these shows. I’ve always rejected the idea that they are a “guilty pleasure” or even escapist. In fact, few reality series have ever exposed so nakedly the fundamental, fucked-up nature of American so-called aspirational society. It should be studied. To Bravo’s credit, the best seasons it’s produced have been in response to calls for more engagement with the serious issues that surround us. [The Real Housewives of Potomac](, which is in constant conversation with what it means to be a successful Black woman in the public eye, is arguably the best the franchise has ever produced—even if it’s the most slept-on. The recent season of [The Real Housewives of Atlanta](, for all its COVID-safety mixed messaging, was elevated to new heights with its chronicling of its cast’s response to the Black Lives Matter movement. And all of this without losing the fun. RHOA mined season-long drama from an alleged threesome with a stripper at a bachelorette party. But for all the good that’s come from Bravo’s real-world reckoning, as this recent RHONY storyline has shown, it’s been shrouded in unpleasant darkness. For every “real-talk” conversation that happens, there also seems to be entrapment, like the cast is being sent to slaughter. Not that they don’t deserve it! And not that Williams isn’t a total badass in her fearless confrontation. But phrases like “white fragility,” “gaslighting,” and “white supremacy” being tossed around as loosely as shots of vodka elicit an audience reaction akin to Luann de Lesseps in that scene: an immediate recoil and an instant “WTF?” I’m thinking about all of this not just because of the RHONY white-lady comeuppance, which is, truthfully, a long time coming. It’s also the unease with which I watched this week’s episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. This has been an amazing season for the Beverly Hills installment. Kathy Hilton is bringing humor. Sutton Stracke is bringing plot. Dorit Kemsley is bringing fashion and plastic surgery lies. Wednesday night’s episode centered around Stracke shrieking the line, “What am I jealous of, your ugly leather pants?” [to another cast member](, a top-tier Housewives moment. Irrelevant to any of that, Harry Hamlin made a bolognese. But the episode also aired in the wake of headlines that [embezzlement victims of cast member Erika Girardi](’s ex-husband, Tom, [can collect payments]( from the star. It’s the latest twist in an ongoing saga in which reports on how Tom won millions for widows, orphans, and burn victims but never paid out their settlements became public—along with speculation about how complicit Erika was herself. For a reality series that has often incorporated its stars’ legal troubles into episodic drama, it doesn’t get juicier than what’s happening with Girardi. But at what point does a guilty conscience compel you to stop using the word “juicy?” Watching the time capsule of how Girardi tried to spin things for cameras months ago as more details unfolded in real time is a fascinating exercise. It’s also unequivocally gross. I’m thinking about this as The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City films while star [Jen Shah is charged with defrauding]( elderly people in a telemarketing scam. I’m thinking about this as The Real Housewives of New York City has morphed into a How to Catch a Racist spin-off that has me climbing into my couch cushions in discomfort on a weekly basis. I’m thinking about this as a new season of The Real Housewives of Potomac gears up to premiere on Sunday night, the first in the aftermath of a public, ugly, and often sad legal war waged between castmates who got in a physical fight. Darkness is, of course, a part of our current reality, so it behooves Bravo to incorporate that into its shows. There have been moments when we’ve celebrated how much richer the series became for it. But now, at least for this fan, tuning in each week has started to feel like an uncomfortable, maybe even dreaded obligation, like dinner with your divorced dad and his new bitch of a wife. As usual, I don’t have answers for how to fix it. At least we have the ugly leather pants. Your Love of Julia Roberts’ Wig Offends Me The shit you all watch. The complete and utter nonsense. The lumpy chemical water at the bottom of a Porta-Potty. The green fuzz on the loaf of bread that you only noticed after you made and ate a sandwich. It will never stop bothering me, a person whose job is to tell you what is good and what is not, so that you do not waste your time and brain cells. And then to find out what you’re watching instead. You might as well stab me in the heart. This is all to say that the [Netflix Top 10]( is the bane of my existence, mostly because of what it [says about you all](. You, the people who, apparently, have spent this last week watching, en masse, the 2016 star-studded abomination Mother’s Day—a film that, beyond being borderline unwatchable, features a [wig worn by Julia Roberts]( that has been flagged by international courts as a crime against humanity. It has been in the Top 10 all week. [Alternate text] Why? I want to type that question a million times. Why? WHY? Whyyyyyyy? Seriously, why!? Why are any of you, in this week in July of 2021, watching a film that, even forgiving how bad it is, is called Mother’s Day? Who is scrolling through Netflix, seeing the title card for this film—which is, again, about the holiday Mother’s Day, which famously took place two months ago—and thinking, “Now’s a good time to watch?” Sure, it’s arguably hypocritical of me to drag the unseasonal nature of its popularity. I have been known to, on occasion, be on a summer jog when Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” comes on my shuffle playlist, become a little bashful because it’s seasonally inappropriate, and then realize no one can hear what’s blasting in my AirPods and go H.A.M. when the sleigh bells start. But that is pop excellence. Mother’s Day is cinematic doo-doo. The amount of time I spend staring at the Netflix Top 10 in disbelief is unhealthy. It will likely be the reason I leave this career. I started this newsletter entry with the goal of making sense of it. But it’s impossible. You have all broken me. I am a broken man, and the reason, as was always inevitable, is Julia Roberts’ Mother’s Day wig. Adam Driver Sings Into a Vagina: Cinema! It has been more than two years since the Cannes Film Festival took place. The red carpet on the Croisette is arguably the most envy-inducing, classiest entertainment-industry affair. The brand, if I could peg it as an armchair observer whom the French would spit on should I ever denigrate their cinema soirée by attending, is taste. Is a movie spectacular? They discovered it and gave it a 10-minute standing ovation. Is it absolute, baffling, maybe even offensive trash? They saw it first and also gave it a 10-minute standing ovation. Being daring is as good as… being good. Given all that, it absolutely fits that the film to herald the return of the Cannes Film Festival—of envy, of class, of cinema, of taste—was the Leos Carax head-scratcher Annette. I say this fits not because I have ever been to Cannes (again: garbage human) and therefore know what makes a suitable entry to their program, and not because I have actually seen the aforementioned film. I say this because I have read no less than 100 articles about it—which you will, too, when you find out—and can’t stop laughing at a) its plot and b) critics so jazzed about being in France watching it that they’re waxing poetic on its ambition and audacity. Anyway, here’s what I have learned about Annette: It is a musical (!) starring Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard (!!) during which at one point he belts out lyrics in between licks of a cunnilingus session (!!!). There is apparently a debate about how graphic and/or imperative that bit of information is, but I err on the side of: it can’t be stressed enough. This is, apparently, not even the tip of the bizarro iceberg. [As an Indiewire review says](: “Sure, there’s also a wooden baby that sings and the occasional cutaway to a melancholic gorilla, but they all exist to support the larger cause.” This was an endorsement. Afterward, the film was, as you would expect for something so strange, championed and panned in equal measure. I suspect that not a soul in America will ever see it, save for the tribe known as “Film Twitter,” who will likely never stop talking about it. In any case, it received a five-minute standing ovation at Cannes, during which Adam Driver [apparently lit a cigarette](. I Think You Should Leave Is So Good The [Netflix sketch show I Think You Should Leave]( is so brilliant. For one, it is perfectly titled. It is a show about the jerks and the peculiars, the people who are so committed to their irritating, inappropriate nature—and so un-self-aware about it—that there is no other response than to say, “I think you should leave.” The episodes are also under 20 minutes each. An entire season that you can binge before Cruella even gets to its big plot twist. [Alternate text] That [new season came out this week](, and it’s cool to obsess about how much you love it on Twitter and even cooler to be insufferable about how you don’t think it’s that funny. To me, it’s not always that funny… and I think that’s the point? For what it’s worth, there is a sketch about a person on a ghost tour who is just trying to play by the rules that I may think about for the rest of my life. And, on the topic of funny, there is a line reading of, “Is that a hot dog in your sleeve?” mixed with a physical-comedy sight gag (there is a hot dog in his sleeve) that made me laugh so hard I had to pause the episode. Enjoy. Tinky Winky Is Ready For #HotVaxSummer The [Teletubbies have been vaccinated](. I just thought you should know that. [Alternate text] [Alternate text] - The White Lotus: This summer’s contender for my favorite show of the year. (Sun. on HBO) - Jackass Shark Week Special: Whatever chaos you’re imagining, it’s even more than that. (Sun. on Discovery) - Never Have I Ever: Teen comedies rarely feel this real and joyous. (Thurs. on Netflix) - Black Widow: Sure, why not? (Fri. in theaters and on Disney+) [Alternate text] - Black Widow: But also, what if you don’t? (Fri. in theaters and on Disney+) - American Horror Stories: As a nation, we must rally against this franchise. (Thurs. on Hulu) - Television, In General: There is a day next week when 39 TV shows premiere. Make it stop. I’m tired. Advertisement [Facebook]( [Twitter]( [Instagram]( © Copyright 2021 The Daily Beast Company LLC 555 W. 18th Street, New York NY 10011 [Privacy Policy]( If you are on a mobile device or cannot view the images in this message, [click here]( to view this email in your browser. To ensure delivery of these emails, please add emails@thedailybeast.com to your address book. 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