Le Boogie Oogie.
OMG you guys! It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for, since the writer’s strike threatened to halt production… the return of MTV’s most celebrated ego-masturbationfest: welcome back to The Hills!
Last time we saw our makeup-addled, uber-tanned heroines, LC was ignoring every guy in L.A. for Spencer’s boring-but-adorable BFF, Blah-drina was thrilled to snag a guy who didn’t emotionally abuse her with vague promises (or not) of commitment (or not), and Whitney was just excited to get a romantic storyline of her own. Tonight’s extra-special one-hour premiere opens with LC and Whitney arriving in Paris for the Crillon Debutante Ball. All I can say is, thank God Lauren’s getting the hell out of L.A. Every man, woman and child in Europe is more attractive than even an Eiffel Tower-style threesome with two Brody clones would be. I hope our ladies are feeling fresh, because the MTV cameras are there to greet them at the airport as they disembark their 13-hour flight. Luckily, Whitney is wearing a pair of shew-boots and striped (!) tights for her first moments in Paris. A well-aging chauffeur named Stephane greets them and whisks them to a limo to drive them around the town.
Didn’t I last see this look on a shriveling wicked witch over the rainbow?
The girls squeal about how excited they are to be in a different land than Cali, and Stephane remarks, “Eet ees very deeferent.” “How is it different?” Lauren asks. Well, for one, the humans here are composed of hydrogen and carbon, not silicone and bleach. L.C. and Whitney try to decide where to go first. “Give-Inchy?” wonders Whitney aloud. “Zsheee-vonsh-eee,” Stephane lightly corrects them.
“We should get our ball gowns first!” L.C. exclaims excitedly. However, contrary to popular belief, this trip is not just about her, it’s actually for work for Teen Vogue. You know, work? Getting paid for doing something other than existing in front of a camera? Whitney mentions they must also pick up shoes for the debutantes tonight, and with that, L.C.’s face falls. She makes an executive decision and proclaims that they’ll be getting the gowns. That’s our girl!
“Pssh. I’m a fucking debutante.”
Apparently Crested Butte, Colorado has Steadicam, and a tracking shot follows Heidi looking absolutely adorable in her ski gear during an outing with Mom. They hang out together and bond, mother to emotionally corrupted, vapid daughter. Heidi whines about how she just doesn’t know what to do with Spencer, and Mama says she needs to start fresh and “work on yourself for awhile.”
“But I’ve already HAD a boob job.”
Back in the City of Lights, Lauren and Whit, wearing a completely unforgivable floppy anti-beret, pick up the all-important gowns at Alberta Ferretti with nary a dress fitter in sight. Guess they just trust in the bust-waist-hips gods. Next they head to their less pressing task, picking up other girls’ shoes at Colette. What do you know, they get there and it’s closed! I hope those European royals won’t have to go in flip-flops or anything.
“God, WHY did I wear this mushroom cloud?”
“Clearly, we should have gotten the shoes first,” concedes Whitney. This girl doesn’t miss a beat. They try to justify the mistake by figuring that either way, one of the stores would have been closed. They’re not sure whether it would be better for the debs to go shoeless or them to go naked. Well, considering you’re not the one being introduced to the world as an adult the next night, I’d probably say the latter is better. And have you ever met a debutante? They really take their shews seriously. In any case, Whitney (the hard worker of this duo) is freaking out and complaining of nausea while L.C. is all, Whatev’s, they’ll understand. We’re on T.V.
“They do have MTV here, don’t they?”
In the shopping bag that is Los Angeles, Spencer (Spencer! I’ve missed you so much! It’s like I haven’t seen your face in US Weekly every single week for the last four months!) pretends to be doing dishes when his evil sister comes a-knockin’. He calls her darling and I get full-body goosebumps. Ugh. The Aryan Twins sit down and have a nice heartless-to-heartless about what to do with this whole Heidi fiasco.
“Well, it’s kind of, like, touchÃ©, you leave her and now she leaves you,” Aryan-ette philosophizes. “That’s one way of looking at it,” mumbles Spencer. No, that’s reality. Well, that’s MTV Reality anyway.
Sister Pratt gets all sassy on Spence and when he announces his plans to go retrieve his woman in the snowy hills of Colorado, she (correctly) advises him to leave Heidi the hell alone. Personally, I think it’s just so she can have Spencer all to herself, but creative editing promises that we may never know the truth about these two. Her proactive advice is to “write down everything you’ve done so far, and then do the opposite.” Starting with not being a cokehead, douchebag or “entrepreneur.”
Gotta say, I sometimes just pause on scenes with this chick and wonder what she looks like more: Swiss Miss, an alien, Leelee Sobieski, or just a really shiny bitch. You guys decide.
Though that chin probably comes in handy for… you know… cutting glass and stuff.
After a short commercial break where we get to see Alicia Keys (as usual) be the best actress in a scene with five other people, we return to Le Grand Hotel, where the intern duo is wondering what they’ll be doing that day. Just then, they notice a note was slipped under their door. Tyra Mail! They’re going to a fashion shoot. But wait! They must fetch the shoes first. No time for a shower. I wonder what Lauren did last night after the Colette disaster, because she definitely needs that shower today.
It’s called makeup remover. Please. Look into it.
The dulcet tunes of Good Charlotte transport us to Colorado, where Spencer is arriving at the Montag Family Ranch. I refuse to believe that Spence would have done something like this of his own volition. I smell some producer interference here (and everywhere). Spencer calls out to Heidi’s dad with a gleeful “Tim!” Considering he’s the guy who’s breaking Tim’s daughter’s heart, I would say it’s in Spence’s best interest to at least call him “Mr. Montag.” Although the Montag in question asks “what the heck” Spencer is doing there, he’s not really interested in the answer. His daughter is back where she belongs, and “she’s happy here,” you know, back with her old bra size and original nose. Oh, whoops, she’ll never get those back. Anyway, couldn’t he have just emailed her or something?
L.C. and Whit roll up on the Crillon Hotel and enter to find a bunch of France’s Super Sweet-16ers getting all gussied up. Is it just me, or aren’t interns supposed to arrive like an hour before the models? Kimball, the superfine and lispy man in charge, delegates the girls to their respective tasks. Whitney interviews a deb named Beatrice. Dude, with a name (and a forehead) like that, you’d BETTER have a professional makeup artist and style team.
What’s French for beluga?
Lauren gets a drunk-dial from Blahdrina, who just got home from Les Deux (it’s last night in L.A.). She informs L.C. of a recent development in Congress’ decision to change foreign policy. Just kidding, she gabs that Brody was just out with some chick and he’s calling her his girlfriend. Lauren looks crushed. I actually feel… kinda… sad for her. Forget about him, you weak, weak woman! You’re in fucking Paris! And your name is not Britney Canada Whore!
Whitney says basically the equivalent. “We can find boyfriends in two days. If he can do it, we can do it. I’m sure that Paris is full of guys that are cooler than Brody,” she chirps helpfully. I’m sure that Rhode Island is full of guys that are cooler than Brody. When did Whitney become such a genius?
Meanwhile in the big CO, Mr. Montag and Spencer are sharing an uncomfortable moment on the couch. Spencer is texting and Mr. Montag is staring at Spence with loathing, occasionally rolling his eyes.
“I hope I can find that new Chamillionaire ring tone.”
Mom & Heidi return to the homestead from what appears to have been a collagen injection appointment. “Hey Daddy!” Heidi calls out, and enters the living room unknowing of the terror that awaits her. Ma and Pa pretend to talk in the kitchen while the two lovebirds frostily exchange pleasantries and argue about which one of them gets to be the main focus in this relationship. Hint: it doesn’t matter. Nobody will ever truly win. As they blather on, I stop listening and can only pay attention to Heidi’s new lips. They are Jessica Simpson-level distracting.
What’s Coloradoan for platypus?
As the scene ties up, Heidi looks down at the roses her Romeo has brought her and tries to think of the right words to say. Thank you? Good to see you? Nice facial pubes? “I don’t really know what to say,” she mumbles. Yeah, that should do it.
Night has fallen in Paris and Lauren’s getting over her heartbreak of 3 hours ago by heading out with Whit for a rendezvous with some guys from a band called Rock & Roll. Well, we’re really getting creative with band names these days, aren’t we? Might as well just call them Mediocre Pop Vocals. Or Four Musicians.
Or Acne-Riddled Chain Smokers.
Okay, not bad. Not bad at all, Conrad. We can tell she’s out for some action tonight because she’s slapped on about an inch of red lipstick. But she can pull it off, and evidently it’s working because Matthias looks at her all night like he’s Somalian and she’s a cheesesteak.
“Mmmm… Whiz Wit.”
Matthias and the boys offer to take them to the Eiffel Tower, which at first I thought is pretty much the equivalent of bringing someone to Times Square. Touristy and cheap and the easy way into someone’s neon light-loving pants. But when they get there, it’s a truly beautiful and, in the words of Lo, romantical place to be. For the first time ever, I’m envious of Lauren Conrad. I mean, what better way to see the Eiffel Tower for the first time than with champagne and a rock band?
The next night, the girls are busy studying the French language, including words like “scum” and “rebound.” I think they should be focusing on learning phrases such as “condom” and “venereal disease.” Matthias (or perhaps a producer) texts L.C. and invites them out to a place called Neo. The club is what the French call “fancy-schmancy.” Lauren starts fretting that she doesn’t have a thing to wear. Really? You only packed one single dress? Tsk tsk, what would Lisa Love say? Well here’s what Whitney said, “We always have our ball gowns!” Silence as Lauren looks over cunningly to her dress. “Heh heh heh… psycho talk! Heh. Heh,” Whitney continues nervously. L.C. inspects the gown and decides to hem it into a mini, just for tonight, and wear it out. Ah, this will end well.
Hey Lauren, remember that naked remark from before? That’s a better idea than this one. “It’s fine,” L.C. insists, and Whitney sits silently (judging). Where’s genius Whitney when you need her? I’m pretty sure this was an episode of “I Love Lucy” and it definitely had more hilarious results than this will.
“What if Ricky finds out!”
On the other side of the universe, the Montags and Spencer are having a lovely dinner out. Heidi proposes a toast, and you’ve got to love her dad for proclaiming, “Awesome!” Heidi raises her Merlot and deadpans, “To… my parents, for always loving me. And… that’s about it!” Ooohhh, burn! How does that feel, cokejaw? Spencer cheerfully toasts the Montags as well and then the four of them look at each other, dying for any kind of ice breaker. I recommend a discussion about the weather, or perhaps bodily functions. Unfortunately, Heidi has another idea. I wonder what Mrs. Montag is like when she gets pissed, because Heidi is already acting like a passive-aggressive trophy wife. “Planning on staying long?” she asks Spencer evenly, like a one of those calmly psycho bitches in a horror movie.
Restylane Ice Queen
While the parents look at each other like, “Awwwkwaaarrrd…”, our young lovers argue like it’s their third year of marriage counseling by interjecting each other’s sentences with crazy talk like “respect,” “need space,” and “real love.”
Whatever. Let’s go listen to Kanye West and be single in Europe. Lauren and Whit meet up with their boys and talk to the lead singer and the tambourine player. Tambourine?! Goddamn hippie. What we need here is a hunk of manly meat. Just then, Edoardo enters the picture and threatens to break up the love connection between L.C. and Matthias. He’s an escort for the debutante ball and has a ponytail, which is only forgivable because of his bone structure and, well, because he’s a male escort. He starts chatting Lauren up and Matthias runs his hands through his hair nervously, eyeing the pair. I don’t blame him. Lauren DID do a classic shoulder-shake and smile combination, which we all know means she wants anonymous European sex.
Matthias, taking control of the situation, unsnaps the first four buttons of his shirt and sits down beside Lauren, revealing a veritable meadow of chest hair, all hers for the taking. While Edoardo gets into the music and throws his hands in the air (I’m assuming he just don’t care), Matthias peers at Lauren in an intense way that suggests she is a whore who just slept with his father or something. “Is he your new best friend?” he asks her pointedly. “Ha! No!” she says. “I’m single. Yep! Not dating anybody!” In other words, just take her vagina already. For the love of God. Instead, Matthias gets up and walks away from her, and Lauren looks at him sadly, as though he’s just another Brody, but with facial hair and a better accent.
The girls decide to leave and as they walk down the street, Matthias scares the shit out of Lauren by running up and goosing her. He demands a kiss goodbye and as they say their farewells, both of them give Whitney the glance that says, “Whit. Get out of here. We need to bone.” But Whit’s not that kind of friend and she sticks around to get Lauren home. After all, tomorrow’s the ball!
“Oh, you’re still here?”
The next morning, Lauren unstitches her ghetto hem and, in a completely unexpected turn of events, finds two huge stains on her gown. “Ewww!” shrieks the ever-helpful Whitney, thinking it’s coffee. Turns out it’s even better than we expected: L.C. left her curling iron on and they are, in fact, burn marks. I think they’re just lucky to have not burned down Le Grand Hotel during the night. “The curling iron does that?” Whitney asks incredulously. “It burns,” Lauren verifies. I’m not even going to remark on that exchange.
“What else do you think this magical wand is capable of?”
“I can’t go to the ball without a gown,” our Cinderella sighs. I guess they got some Disney writers on the team this season. Don’t nobody worry none, the Ferretti guy is a (publicity-loving) saint and offers them another dress if they can get there in fifteen. Reliable Stephane breaks a few minor traffic laws and Ferretti dude hands over the goods, stressing to Lauren, “This is a very, very precious dress,” i.e. don’t fuck this up too. There’s only so much chiffon left in the world.
In Crested Butte, Spencer and Heidi exchange a series of thinly veiled breakup threats over mugs of hot tea. In an effort to win his true love back, Spencer laughs out loud at Heidi’s complaints and calls her delusional. What a sweetie. By the end of the scene she tells him to move out… but something (like contracts) tells me this won’t be the last we see of Spencer.
“Now. What am I gonna do with that Hollywood wall?”
It has finally arrived, the Crillon Ball! The girls make their grand entrance and greet Kimball, a fine specimen of the plastic gay gorgeousness we’ve all seen in those Dolce & Gabbana ads.
You could ski right off them cheekbones.
Rich French kids get a formal announcement and professional photographers to present them to the world. An L.A. “debutante ball” consists of getting wasted at prom on national television and crying about their boyfriends. Lauren looks on with longing, all, “Sigh, I wish I had been that classy at 16.” After the big announcements, the ball continues with waltzing. Goddamn string-accompanied waltzing. It’s a Disney-watching little girl’s dream come true.
“Wonder which one’s the Jason.”
But I’m getting off topic. This night is really about Lauren. Matthias rings her up as she’s, you know, working and stuff and invites her out for one last magical night around Paris. Foolish Lauren whines, “Maybe…” It takes Genius Whitney to convince her to go hang out with a hot guy who actually likes her. So, out she goes and Matthias is waiting for her with something that will definitely be bad for her dress.
Where’s the beef?
Sometimes in life you’ve just gotta say, “I’ve already destroyed one expensive designer gown. What’s one more?” The pair zoom around Paris until the sun comes up and as Matthias drops her back at the hotel, Lauren gives him two chaste kisses on the cheek. You’d think she’d be living it up there in Paris, but I guess she’s saving herself for marriage.
With the exception of Spencer & Heidi’s couples-therapy snoozefest, I was pretty satisfied with this episode. I’m a little surprised Lauren and Whitney didn’t have an orgy with the band guys. I probably woulda. But, you never know what Whitney did with herself while Lauren was zipping around town on the Vespa.
In any case, I’m super-excited to be recapping this season and sharing with you guys all of the manufactured drama that MTV can throw at us! Coming up this season: I’ve got two words for you: Stephen Colletti. See you on the boards!