God, what an insipid cast. And what a bunch of pussies who picked them. “There IS no wrong,” Martha McCully declared when one of the auditioners quit in the middle of her presentation, and then came back after being begged by Clive Pearse. No wrong? Then why are you having a frigging contest? Just pick up some slob wondering by the studio and put 'em under the lights. Jeesh.
There is not a thimble full of talent among all the contestants. And talk about a “token black”. Could they have been more shameless about it? They put up 10 screens with 10 faces. Um, what’s missing in this picture? Oh, I know! A *black * face! “This year, instead of ten, we’re going to have *eleven * contestants!” Sure enough, the eleventh screen lights up with the face of Will Smith (no, not that one) from Charlotte. Yes, he’s African-American, but the only thing he has designed is a room in his own house, and it looks like shit. Shag carpet and velvet pillows.
At least three were shamelessly selected because of their personalities rather than any alleged talent. Neeraja Lockart practically announced that she was going to be a bitch. Josh Johnson has a name that sounds made up, and he looks like he just stepped off the cover of a paperback romance novel. And Lisa Millard couldn’t have a weirder sense of style if she blindfolded herself and threw random objects around the room.
This season is going to be all about sizzle and no steak. Personality conflicts and ugly rooms. Lots of crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth. And peer abuse. Can’t wait till things get rolling!