The wait is finally over! Technically, for those of you who could download the LogoTV app, the wait was over last week, but I’m still clinging to that first-generation iPad. Anyhow, the workroom is still working, the runway is still running, and the bitches are still bitching. Let the games begin!
First into the arena is Adore Delano. She’s new to the drag world, but an old pro in terms of reality TV, having paid her dues on the American Idol stage. Her wide-eyed innocence seems like a reaction to new surroundings until you realize that she greets literally every interaction with the same slack-jawed semi-comprehension. She’s soon joined by BenDeLaCreme, a spitfire so determined to fill the void with cheerfulness that she doesn’t even include spaces in her name. The third contestant is a giant sentient purse that has accessorized itself with a shady, nasal-voiced Chicago queen named Gia Gunn.
Now everyone stop and look, because Laganja Estranja has come into the room and she would really like for you to look at her. She is trying very hard. Like, two-death-drops-in-two-minutes hard. If she were working any harder to be the center of attention, she’d be a series regular on Girls. Yet eventually we must turn away, because Puerto Rico’s contribution to the proceedings is next. April Carrion apparently parachuted in from heaven because her face is flawless. The next two entrants are the contest’s oldest: Kelly Mantle, who immediately gets read for her lackluster look, and Vi Vacious, whose glittery head-on-head club kid couture is so strong that even a stuck zipper can’t dampen her shine.
As the first seven ladies await the rest of their competition, the SheMail siren sounds. Everyone is confused and dismayed at the premature dragulation. Ru enters to announce that the premiere will be divided in half, with the gals competing in small groups to make sure no one hides in plain sight. It’s actually a smart idea, since meeting all the queens and then all their male forms in one episode can be quite the onslaught. I figured out who to hate a lot more quickly thanks to this refinement in the process.
Of course, the first challenge remains the same. (Without The A-List, RuPaul has to accept personal responsibility for preventing Mike Ruiz from becoming homeless.) This season’s photo shoot requires the contestants to serve sickening glamour while jumping off a ledge into a pit of foam cubes. It’d be difficult even if everyone weren’t in heels. As a self-described “giraffe,” Adore struggles to keep her limbs in order, while Vi fights against a boxy costume that, despite its wings, probably wasn’t intended to take flight. April, on the other hand, could basically be Peter Pan with her twinkling eyes and boy scout getup.
It’s Laganja, though, who takes the win. She’s comfortable being high, and she’s also trying very hard.
As the girls get into their boy britches, it’s interesting to see who really mans up. Ben transforms completely, while Gia just looks like a debutante who has yet to apply her mascara #iwokeuplikethis. Laganja essentially puts on a second costume, taking the time to do her hair into a preposterous pompadour and slathering her lips in glossy black. I don’t know if you caught this, but she’s trying very hard.
The sausage party can’t last forever, though, and Ru has a truckload of TV-inspired trash to make sure that femininity returns before long. The aspiring superstars will make themselves outfits out of the curated castoffs, taking inspirations from other reality mainstays like Keeping Up with the Kardashians and Duck Dynasty, as well as scripted fare like The Golden Girls. There's some griping about who got assigned what series, but people are mostly focused on getting to work. Everyone would rather stay on this show than get sent home to sit on the couch and catch up on their TiVo queue.
Ru’s walkthrough is pretty shady all around, with near-constant use of that metal-on-metal oh-shit sound. I like to think of it as side eye for your ears. Things that cause concern include: pants, insecurity, too many ideas, too few ideas, and dragons. Perhaps the only person not to get an auditory warning is Kelly Mantle, because Ru neglects to discuss her dress at all and just talks about how she seems like a young Carol Burnett. (For those of you who are too young to catch that reference, Carol Burnett played Sue Sylvester’s mom on Glee. I feel dirty knowing that.)
The runway yields some surprising successes. Phil Robertson might hate gays, but his show did wonders for April’s plaid-fringed gown. Gia looks absoluuutelyyyyy great, though I’m beginning to wonder if she will ever wear something other than a swimsuit. Despite working really, very, exceptionally hard, Laganja can’t snare the win from Ben, whose combination of cheese, charm, and cheerfulness are brilliantly accentuated by her expertly tailored garment. Her prize is from a company called “Fierce Drag Jewels,” which I assume means that there’s no budget for real prizes this season and some unpaid intern has been tasked with making up names of nonexistent sponsors.
Quick wit is equally helpful to Adore, who manages to explain the flaws of her piece away even though she almost didn’t make it to the runway after gluing her mermaid smock to the mannequin. That leaves the most senior members of the crew, bacon-chested Kelly and heinously-wigged Vi to lip sync for their exceptionally long lives. You’d think that old pros would be evenly matched, but the choice is clear almost immediately. Despite Ms. Mantle’s decision to pay homage to Madonna by repeatedly touching her crotch and squatting, Lady Vacious from Outer Spacious delivers a winning performance as weird and sassy as her signature strut. Let's assume that the geeky power of Game of Thrones is what pushed her over the edge.
Honestly, Kelly’s sashay seemed destined from the moment she walked in. Fingers crossed that next week’s crop of queens does less talking through their noses and more thinking with their brains.
