TV TALK
This Week's Reality TV Stew: Unsung, Chopping Block, Beautiful People & Parking Wars
By Sexy Chatty CattyWE ALL AGREE THAT MICHAEL JACKSON WAS A MUSICAL GENIUS. But did you know that he did not invent the Moonwalk?
That dance phenomenon was first done as the Backslide by none other than Jeffrey G. Daniel of the 70's group Shalamar. Or so he claims. That little gem, along with other untold tales of certain R & B musical artists rivalries, travels, travails, money disputes and all manner of ugly turmoil totally captivate on TVOne's Unsung."
The series (Sundays, 8 p.m.) is done in a Behind The Music documentary style, with appearances by the artists themselves relating their ups and downs. I missed the Melba Moore episode but caught up with Shalamar (A Night To Remember, The Second Time Around) members Daniel, Jodie Whatley and Howard Hewitt.
I knew Jody Whatley was doing well having seen here in a few episodes of Bravo's Workout. And the other members are faring fine as well. All were upfront about their triumphs, mistakes and indiscretions.
Last week the sad tale of the real Dreamgirl, Florence Ballard was told. If you were grooving to the Supremes back then or saw the play-turned-movie Dreamgirls, you know the story. It's being repeated to this day. Girl group turned into featured singer with backups, girl with real talent pushed back for girl with the pop sound.
I'm disappointed that I missed the first season. That first season featured Phyllis Hyman, DeBarge, Donny Hathaway and The Clark Sisters. An upcoming episode will be on the short life of singer Minnie Ripperton, the mother of Saturday Night Live's Maya Rudolph and known for her 5 ½ octave range. This is a fascinating and eye-opening behind-the-scene series on the talented but somewhat lost souls of soul.
DAMN, NBC, WHY YOU WANNA MAKE ME WORK. I don't usually look on network websites for viewing information but I guess I should from now on.
This story begins way back in March. Back then, I got hooked on a cooking competition show titled The Chopping Block. The chef host is Marco Pierre White. I read that he’d once made my boyfriend Gordon Ramsey cry. Oh, he’s going to be a terror, I thought. Well, no. He's a kitten. The Englishman has toned his act down for U.S. television. His wild brown hair, suggestion of a mustache and beard and hulking demeanor give him the air of a person who'd wear a cape. In fact, maybe I saw him in one, way back in March. He spouts his soft-spoken pronouncements from a cozy leather chair, one leg flung over the arm.
The show was your usual reality format -- one fast and one elimination challenge. The competitors were couples made up of friends, relatives and marrieds. The prize -- a partnership with White, money, something like that. Everything typical, but I was enjoying it. Then, poof! It was gone. In its stead, an episode of that perpetual Law & Order (Criminal Intent).
Three episodes in, NBC decided to cancel it. The network promised at the time to run the remaining episodes "at some point." So unfair. Shoot.
Cut to a rainy Friday night in June. I’m toddling around the dial and I see -- ta daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa -- The Chopping Block. While I hate the fact that I had to just run into it, I am glad that NBC kept its promise.
Before I found out that the show had been cancelled, I searched the TV guide for it. While doing that I stumbled upon another cooking show titled just Chopped. So I gave it whirl and throughly enjoyed it. It's in its second season, Tuesdays at 10 pm.
Hosted by former Queer Eye foodie guy, Food Network's Ted Allen, the premise pits four chefs in three rounds with a $10,000 winner each week. Judges include Alex Guarnaschelli, Geoffrey Zakarian and Aaron Sanchez. In each round the professional chefs are given disparate ingredients such as grits, grapes and avocados and asked to create a three course meal, with different ingredients for each round. There is an elimination each round until there are just two chefs left. It’s really compelling and I find myself wanting to taste their bizarre concoctions. It's a little bit Iron Chef, really strange combinations of ingredients. And Ted Allen is always just adorable.
MY WORK HUSBAND DREW HIPPED ME TO A SAUCY LITTLE BBC SHOW called Beautiful People. You know I love my reality, such as it is, but for this show I make an exception.
At its heart it's the story of two young gay boys who dream of leaving the their dreary existence in Reading, England for the fabulous life and beautiful people of London. Based on the memoirs of Simon Doonan, it's fanciful, flaky, funny and hard to adequately describe. And the Anglophile in me loves the accents.
Doonan worked his way up from window dresser to creative director during his 22 years at the upscale New York clothier, Barneys. Last year he married long-time companion and designer Jonathan Adler. At 55, he grew up in the '50s and '60s, although the show is updated to the year 1997. A strange conceit but this show is so much fun, who cares.
Young Simon lives with his mom and dad, Debbie and Andy. Debbie's a blonde who still counts herself as a bit of a neighborhood vamp. She's quick tempered and tipples a bit but that's partly because her husband's an amateur winemaker (cucumber, anyone?) and constantly tempts her. They're in love the way normal people are, a spat here, a kiss there. His sister Ashlene has a touch of ghetto fabulousness, Auntie Hayley is their blind lodger and his sweet grandma has a lobotomy and turns into a randy tramp who loudly screws her newfound boyfriend before killing herself by putting aluminum in the microwave. I told you it was flaky! It’s even passed loony.
Simon and his best friend and across the street neighbor Kylie call each other "girfriend" (with a snap!). Kylie's mother's not having it but Simon's family seems to accept him completely, calling him "different." The boys only fall out when dark-skinned Kylie begs Simon to dye his hair blonde , like his idol Diana and is then horrified at the results.
Really, how could this show lose. Its producer is Jon Plowman, who produced one of the funniest damn shows ever, Absolutely Fabulous. I think I've got to buy the book.
ONE OF THE FUN THINGS I DO SOME SATURDAYS IS CLEAN HOUSE with the almost weekly marathon of A&E's Parking Wars. I like the show because it's based in my hometown of Philly and it's always fun to see people getting mad over something they did wrong.
Philly's always been known as a tough town. Now with Parking Wars as our Chamber of Commerce it's seemingly putting off visitors to the City of Brotherly Love. The show was mentioned in a recent article on Philly.com reporting that the Philadelphia Parking Authority (PPA) decided not to raise meter rates another 50 percent (to $3 an hour from $2) as expected. But the PPA says the show is not the reason for its decision. They say they’re reached their goal of freeing up spaces in usually congested downtown Center City. Whatever.
The show follows city meter-readers, tow-truck operators and booters as they calmly face down angry residents. There’s a "frustration meter" that rises, red and boiling, counting down the hours that a person spends traversing the byzantine system of trying to pay to get your car out of impound. Some are funny, most are frustrated and some won’t get their cars back at all. They run out of the house half naked, out of beauty and barber shops with bibs flying as the boot man bends to fasten the glaringly yellow sign of failure to pay. They’re defiant, crying and cursing. And some are just resigned to their fate.
I’ve gotten my share of tickets in this town, mostly for parking. You know you’re wrong but you’re still pissed. And what this city puts you through can be pure hell. So I pay my tickets as soon as I get them because in the city of Philadelphia your fines escalate so quicky it’ll make your head spin.
But I don’t wanna completely turn you off to Philly. Come, enjoy. Just watch where you park.
SexyChattyCatty is a regular contributor at CrabbyGolightly.com where she writes frequently on TV, America's favorite snack food.
When Tori's friend rings the bell at the security gates to Candy's mansion and announces a package from Tori, security's reaction is an incredulous "Tori?" (And wasn't Candy downsizing to a $48 million condo last time we heard?)
Or how about this conversation piece: baggy turquoise sweater matched with pink tights, striped socks and black high heels. We think if we saw the most lithe beauty wearing it down Michigan Avenue it would still be more like a "point and whisper" piece, and we wouldn't be saying nice things.
