Woo ha and welcome to Season 5 of America's Next Top Model! We begin with a pre-credits montage of audition tapes, which includes a blonde with duck lips, someone who filmed her video in her high school's AV store room, and...Tyra Banks. Not even a minute into the show and the shenanigans have already begun! Then we see a cute curly-headed girl, a nondescript blonde and...oh, it's Tyra again. An Osmond, another nondescript blonde, and...Tyra. A girl on a trampoline and...Tyra. And more Tyra. Still Tyra. And yet more Tyra. And if you want to know in a nutshell what this show is really about, review those last three sentences.
We're at LAX, where the thirty six finalists are arriving. And I'm sure the decision to film in L.A. again has everything to do with its reputation as a burgeoning fashion capital and nothing at all to do with Tyra's crappy new talk show. And in all fairness, how could she possibly have a professional plastic surgeon assess the authenticity of her boobs on-air if they were in New York? Cassandra, nineteen, from Houston, says that she's competed in a lot of beauty pageants and her communications expert...hold up. Did she just say, "My communications expert"? I would think that any communications expert worth his salt would tell clients not to start sentences with "My communications expert says..." It only communicates creepiness. Anyway, the communications expert tells Cassandra not to worry about the competition: "You're here for you." And for that shiny tiara and to rub it in the face of that bitch Miss North Dakota. It appears that Cassandra is going to do nothing to debunk stereotypes about pageant contestants. Next is fluorescent-shod Bre, twenty, from Harlem, who says something about being ashy, I guess to indicate to us that she is a sistah. Nik, twenty-one, from Atlanta, says that she's not here to win the competition; she is the competition. Nik is also not here to make sense, because she is the sense. A girl in a ski jacket asks another competitor to help her with her bags. Her request goes unanswered. She is Susanna, nineteen, from Carthage, New York, and says that she has a lot of acquaintances but no friends. And I am sorry to say that it might actually be because she's not very pretty. I think Susanna might have gotten lost on her way to Extreme Makeover.
The girls convene at the Beverly Hilton, where introductions are made and rivalries are formed. Ebony, eighteen, from Sylmar, California, says that she's sizing up her competition and that she's intimidated because the girls are gorgeous. Oh, not another one with the retinitis pigmentosa. She ends with, "Don't get it twisted," which I will address later. And then, just when you thought things couldn't get worse, out walks Jay Manuel, dressed in a pink striped blazer that makes him look like Malibu Orange Man. The girls all rush over to hug him. I hope none of them is wearing white. Jay tells the girls that they probably all know who he is; sadly, he is probably right. He also says that he will be the creative director for all photo shoots again, which ensures us a season's worth of gold bodysuits and feathered headgear. Jay says that it's time to work, and that the girls need to live, breathe, eat, and sleep this business. I wish he'd live, breathe, eat and sleep asbestos. Kyle, nineteen, from Dexter, Michigan, says that she almost peed herself. Oooh, and I think Kyle might win the whole thing. She's actually really pretty.