I think one of the reasons I eventually became so drawn to a genre I used to avoid like the flesh-eating plague was because of how satisfying it felt to apply the theory as I watched. Okay, I’d think to myself as the blades of a chainsaw ripped through a female character’s flesh. This girl is dying because she’s trespassing unknowingly on the killer’s turf and because of the killer’s psychosexual fury. She’s been coded as nothing but female and sexual since she first stepped onscreen and that’s why she’s a f*cking goner. There was a quiet simplicity to it all. I liked that there could be zero discussion about which person to root for in one of these films. The other entertainment I was typically drawn to was way more complex, populated by characters who were both benevolent and hideously flawed. I didn’t love how conflicted I would feel when I’d start to care about a character who would lie or cheat or steal. I had enough of a problem giving assh*les passes in real life.
Speaking of assh*les, I think one of the problems I have these days with a show like Vanderpump Rules is that I can find nobody with whom I want to fully identify. If this series were a slasher, at this point I think I might have to cheer for the f*cking chainsaw.
Turn our Vanderpumpers into slasher characters and SUR would become an absolute bloodbath. (I’d be concerned about what that might mean for its Board of Health codes, but Jax works there so those codes have to be pretty lenient.) Let’s talk definite victims. Those who will become mere terrible memories are undoubtedly James, Lala, Jax, and Kristen. All four have allowed themselves to be portrayed as miserable one-note characters who lead flaw first. For the record, I’d like to suggest that Kristen be offed during the cold open so she’s out of our lives by the time the credit sequence is over. The rest of the group is a bit more problematic. See, it’s unlikely that Sandoval or Schwartz will make it out of a slasher movie alive. While they have not come across as terrible people, they’ll probably be too busy getting their eyebrows threaded to notice the danger signs. Scheana might make it halfway through, but eventually her insistence to implore her addicted husband to get himself a little tipsy might ruin her chances at survival. Stassi had a shot to survive too, but she blew it by coming back to this show after she’d already crawled to safety. Sadly for her, she traded survival for generic infamy and she recently became way more blonde, a practice that rarely leads to a positive outcome in a slasher. Besides, she’s bunking on Kristen’s couch and Kristen’s lair will be the first place the evil invades if there’s any justice in this world.
So who’s our final girl? I guess it comes down to Ariana or Katie, but I’m going to go out on a dismembered limb and give Katie the seal of survival. It’s a tough call, though. Both women are clearly intelligent and have spent much of this season saying what I think most viewers have swirling around inside of our heads. Neither tolerates d*ckheads all that easily and neither has disrobed on camera, but Katie is my choice because she’s not always in a terrible mood and the final girl is meant to be someone who appears to enjoy life and wants to keep living it. Besides, one of the key attributes of final girldom is celibacy, and Katie has made sure that we all know that she hasn’t gotten laid in eons.
Sure, her idiotic librarian outfit a few episodes back almost severed my identification with her for good, but I am willing to overlook it because I want positive things for this girl. She does not seem particularly interested in embracing total stupidity and she has never entirely tossed her pride aside just to get attention. I might question her choices when it comes to nose rings and friendships, but at least she holds people somewhat accountable for their sins and she seems reluctant to make the same mistakes twice. Simply put, she does not come across as a horrific human being, and in slasher films – and on reality shows – that’s maybe all it takes to make me root for someone.
Unfortunately, Katie’s ultimate survival is in question on this last episode of the season. She is throwing herself an engagement party and it appears that she’s tried to make sure that everything goes perfectly. She secured herself a gorgeous location, promised the owner of the property that certain people will not attend, and she’s hoping for the best. Sadly for the bride-to-be, some evil cannot be so easily squelched and I’m betting that this party will turn into a f*cking massacre.
Bring on the phallic weaponry!
It’ll take us a little while to get to the really gory part, so we begin tonight by floating in the (relative) calm before the storm – which strikes me as the perfect cliché to use for a show that’s long been a total cliché. But look! Here comes Tsunami Jax arriving back from Hawaii! He trudges into his depressing apartment where he’s greeted by his newly buxom maid/girlfriend, Brittany. Things worked out well for our favorite sweaty douchebag in court. He only ended up with probation and all will be fine as long as he “keeps his nose clean,” an act that I’m betting will be difficult for him because something tells me his nose is often, um, not so clean. But now that he’s home, what he’d really like is some peace and quiet. It’s just so tough having a loving girlfriend who does your dishes and inflates her t*ts to make you happy! Can she maybe just go live in his neighbor’s closet?
Speaking of closets, Stassi’s finally got one of her own. That’s right, she no longer has to hang her clothing alongside Kristen’s rompers because she’s finally in her very own place. Thank goodness this apartment lives up to her standards, you guys. I too held my breath hoping a woman with no job would get the crown moldings of her dreams and I’m thrilled to say that I finally feel at peace. It’s really hard to root for Stassi sometimes. She strikes me as being so consumed with playing the entitled self-aggrandizing one because someone foolish once told her the act was charming and that caricature has become who she really is now – or maybe it’s the other way around. At any rate, her very first houseguest is Kristen, which means someone should just torch the place to cleanse it of its newly horrible energy. Will hardwood floors survive an inferno?
Kristen enters with champagne and the two of them guzzle it immediately, lest they have to admit that all they really have is one another. That’s far too depressing a thought, so they throw that cheap bubbly down the f*cking hatch while over at Jax’s place, he blurts out, “I can’t escape you!” to the girl who moved across the country to get berated in person. He then tells his girlfriend that the jail cell he was locked inside of briefly was the most peaceful environment he’s been in ages. I don’t think any of us should be shocked if Brittany smothers the guy in his sleep. Worse comes to worse, maybe the jail cell she winds up in for committing murder will be just as peaceful as the utopia Jax visited after stealing some sunglasses.
Over at SUR, the entire cast has been scheduled to work so the final conflicts of the season can be presented along with the day’s specials. First on the docket is James, who tells Sandoval and Ariana that he’s been spending some time with Kristen lately. They do what any normal person would do upon hearing such news: they laugh in his face. Of course, James is far too much of a moron to recognize their disgust and he looks positively proud, like banging his psychotic ex proves his virility in the way his low-cut tank tops never could. Unfortunately, poor James is experiencing a conundrum. See, he likes Lala too, so – as he so eloquently phrases it – it’ll all come down to which girl will open the door for him wider, an image so revolting that I might need to go gargle with some bleach.
In the SUR bathroom, Lala shares the beginning stages of her nervous breakdown about attending Katie’s engagement party. She and Katie have never really been close, but I guess the producers made Katie fork over an invite and now Lala is consumed by the things that matter most: what will she wear to someone else’s big day and how should she do her hair? Luckily, there’s a theme that’s here to guide her and that theme is “Linens & Lace,” so Scheana instructs Lala to dress like she’s going to meet someone’s grandmother. It’s actually a sweet reply, especially when Scheana could have said, “Try not to flash your t*ts, Lala, or we’ll make you leave the party and sit on the curb like those girls in the third grade did to you during what became the single most defining moment of your life.” Also consuming Lala’s thoughts is her upcoming possible brawl with Kristen who apparently recently bellowed to the heavens that Lala is a “ratchet whore” – because in addition to being the finest dramatic actress of this or any other time, Kristen is also a wordsmith. Lala claims not to care about what Kristen thinks of her. All that matters is how much she cares about James and, yes, that settles it: Lala does not have a f*cking prayer of making it out of my slasher movie alive because someone with such questionable taste in other human beings should simply never be permitted to eventually procreate.
Newly freed from his Hawaiian court case and the girlfriend who makes him feel shackled because she has the need to be treated with some decency, Jax arrives back at SUR. The self-proclaimed number one guy in the group (seriously: is that a thing?) is welcomed back warmly by Sandoval, a man who is either the single most forgiving soul on the planet or the biggest chump in the hemisphere. Sure, Jax has stolen from him and spread vicious rumors about him and f*cked his girlfriend, but Sandoval just can’t help but love the assh*le and all I can think upon hearing him say such a bizarre thing is that our metaphorical body count is rising.
Lisa arrives next and she encourages Jax not to minimize everything he’s recently gone through in court. She’d like for him to one day be accountable for his actions, but there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that the day will be today – or tomorrow – or ever.