The Final Four

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: A | Grade It Now!
Lesson Thirteen: Stinky Bums Are Definitely Funny

James and Stefani are setting up lights and engaging in this business we call show when Don Jr.'s hair once again freaks you out from the location of his head, on which there is another set of hair which is slightly grosser-looking, and so on, into infinity. An asymmetrical part not unlike that which manifests itself on the blighted head of Simon Cowell gives him that insouciant but deeply compromised look one sees on the scarred mean men at the bus stop late in the evening. And what is going on in this room? Something deeply compromised, to be certain. The lady playing the attorney -- and I mean to say that the actors in both these commercials comprise a pool of talent truly remarkable in its mediocrity; they could be anyone, save a person familiar with the art of acting, or even playing pretend -- shouts at the witness about how the defendant did something, or something. The husband who lied about stinking up the house, but then covered it up, but somehow the lied-to wife knew that he had caused a problem and then fixed the problem, so she put him on trial, because James is just so goddamned creative. This goes on for awhile, and the executives come in, and either this is true or it is not, but what's presented to us as fact is that this is the precise moment that James goes completely crazy. I wonder if that really happened in reaction to the executives or what. He's like, "Cut! Cut! Cut!" and keeps repeating the lines and telling the woman things that wouldn't be helpful to an actual actor, much less this woman who I guess was just walking by or whatever. Shouldn't the final task have a budget? Or some kind of awesomeness? This is so jank.

James: "Interesting."
Lady: "Interesting."
James: "Interesting!"
Lady: "Interesting!"
James: "Interesting."
Lady: "Interesting."
James: "Intresting."
Lady: "Intresting."
James: "Interesting..."
Lady: "Interesting..."
James: "Interesting."
Lady: "Interesting."
James: "Interesting?"
Lady: "Interesting?"
James: "Interesting."
Lady: "Interesting."

Ironically enough, it's not that interesting. James hops on the Surya train of how what really matters is how much film they tape (tape they film?) and not whether any of it is worthwhile or whether the quality of it ever rises above "mildly embarrassing." They took "a ton" of tickled takes -- to create "that drama effect" -- he says proudly. He's such a fucking tool, you guys. I don't know how you end up like this. It started slow and subtle and he's just gotten more ridiculous every week. Just like every winner of this show, except for Randal, whose grandma died instead. Stefani's finally like: "We gotta fuckin' bounce, Scorsese." James gets uppity with her about how actually, they're almost done, and she presents it back to him on a lovely platter of STFU: "Um, actually, we're not. We still have a whole other set to get shots on? The living room? Where the crime took place?" She interviews that, in case we haven't yet figured it out, they're on a deadline, and that without a film crew -- who is now leaving in 45 minutes -- they won't be able to get the footage they need in order to film a coherent story, and then they're screwed. Now, I have seen the final product, and trust me. Why do none of them understand the difference between quality and quantity? Or quantity and lack, for that matter? They're so far in over their heads with this, all of them, and it's a stupid task anyhow, AND they already did this on a bigger scale, AND it wasn't this shitty... whatever. Whatever, this show sucks. So James keeps cutting, cutting, cutting, every second he's yelling "Cut!" and Stefani's very, very pretty. And very, very scared.

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