| Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
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Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
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Possibly the best way to have watched The Traitors premiere. Noah Wyle is back in the ER, thank God! It’s 2024 and I’m still talking about the Chicago movie. The Real Housepresidents of the Funeral. Smiling during a hard time. |
Oh Come, All Ye Faithful…
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There is perhaps one challenge more strenuous and harrowing than having to row a Viking dragon boat across a loch in Scotland in the shivering cold: Getting a drink at a crowded gay bar. Thus it was a visceral experience to screen the premiere episodes of The Traitors at a watch party at host Alan Cumming’s own establishment in the East Village of New York City, Club Cumming, with Cumming himself serving as the event’s emcee. |
What could make the return of TV’s most deliciously camp reality competition more glorious? A bar full of gays screaming at the top of their lungs when RuPaul’s Drag Race alum Bob the Drag Queen is selected as a Traitor. It’s what I imagine it’s like to be in a sports bar when the Packers score a touchdown. (Or something. Sports references are not my thing, as one should gather from my histrionics over being at a cabaret space owned by a Tony Award-winning actor in order to watch a Peacock reality show where Real Housewives scream at Zac Efron’s hot younger brother.) On this particular premiere night, one entered Club Cumming through a phalanx of people dressed in the black hooded cloaks, like the ones contestants selected as Traitors wear on the series. I counted about seven of them, all holding lanterns—well, one’s “lantern” was the iPhone they were texting on—and all looking creepy-as-hell. It turns out that be-cloaked people are a menacing presence, even if a Sabrina Carpenter song happens to be playing on the loudspeaker. The “Traitors” had a busy day. They were all over the city promoting the show, visiting landmarks like Top of the Rock and Katz’s Deli. “These people have been wandering New York City all day in these capes,” Cumming quipped. “I think everybody should buy them a drink!” |
I spotted two people dressed in the elaborate fashion that cast members on the series wear. One was sporting a three-piece suit and a bowler hat, and her friend had a tartan skirt and beret. It turns out they’re just really big Traitors fans. “I kind of dress like this on a day-to-day basis,” Sunday, looking smart in the bowler hat, told me, laughing. “Sunday is very dapper all the time, and I try not to be trashy when I’m with her,” LJ added, fixing her beret. She saw the Traitors walking around Astor Place earlier that morning, led by a bagpipes player, and then six hours later in Times Square. “She was sending me videos all day,” Sunday said. “I was like, tonight is going to be a f---ing blast.” |
After a theatrical lil’ moment with those unsettling cloak people, Cumming declared that it was time for the screening to begin: “Enjoy yourselves, sit back, and be prepared for f---ing carnage.” There is no better focus group for what works and doesn’t work about a reality TV show than a tipsy audience at a gay bar. Bob the Drag Queen, former Bachelorette Gabby Windey, Survivor alum Carolyn Wiger were instant favorites, owed to their inherent hilarity. Any dig Selling Sunset star—and friend of Ariana Madix—Chrishell Stause made against Vanderpump Rules villain Tom Sandoval got a round of applause. And watching Real Housewives on The Traitors while at Alan Cumming’s bar was akin to going to church and some of the apostles showing up. When the show’s two Bobs—the Drag Queen and Biggest Loser veteran Bob Harper—had their big suffragette moment in that Viking boat, berating the cast for forcing all the women off the ship so that the men could row, the cheers in the room would’ve shattered the glass ceiling, if Club Cumming had one. But the loudly engaged crowd also revealed the shows and its stars’ missteps: chiefly, the immediate ganging up on and dismissal of the Housewives. These are who we’re watching to see, people. Let them live! (Literally. The premise of The Traitors is that the show’s “Traitors” scheme to eliminate, aka “murder,” the show’s “Faithfuls.”) When all four of the Housewives were in peril during the premiere, there was a funereal sense of mourning in the club that was palpable. It was so infectious that I caught myself reflexively bowing my head and saying a silent prayer when we were about to find out if one was going to be sent home.
Cumming spent most of the premiere episode in a back corner watching with last season’s first-eliminated contestant, Peppermint, and Harper, beaming and as transfixed by what was on screen as us plebeians at the watch party were. At one point, Harper and Peppermint huddled and gossiped about their experiences filming show. I don’t know what they were talking about, but at one point I heard the words “BOSTON ROB!” screamed.
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Real Housewives of New Jerseystar and current contestant Dolores Catania joined Cumming and Harper for a brief Q&A. Last season’s most polarizing player, “Pilot Pete” Weber was also there and was interviewed by Cumming. It turns out he really is a pilot currently flying routes for American Airlines. It is startling information to me that reality stars do real jobs when they’re not on TV. Like, it makes sense. But, I don’t know, I guess I just assumed they all just existed as ghosts in some sort of influencer purgatory in Glendale or something until getting a call to appear on Dancing With the Stars or Bachelor in Paradise. But Pete really flies planes. The more you know!
My big takeaway is that it’s a kick to observe how clearly into this job and the show itself that Cumming is, which I think is the key to the show’s quality and success. That, and three gin and tonics is one more than necessary to enjoy watching The Traitors.
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Technically speaking, Max’s new medical drama The Pitt is not an ER sequel. Spiritually speaking—and, more importantly, in the fantasy world of ER superfan Kevin Fallon—it absolutely is a sequel. And, when viewed as such, I think it is way more gratifying to watch. The Pitt, which launched Jan. 10, stars Noah Wyle, who played Dr. John Carter for 15 years on ER—full-time for its first 11 seasons, and then in bursts of guest arcs through its 2009 finale. He plays Dr. Michael “Robby” Rabinavitch, a senior attending in the emergency department of an overextended hospital in Pittsburgh. Robby has a wily, mischievous streak offsetting what is clearly a heart of gold, breaking the rules with no thought if it means his off-book ingenuity can save a patient. |
Does that character sound familiar? Sure. And THANK GOD. Of course, Wyle isn’t just redoing Dr. Carter here. His character has a compelling backstory, reeling from the traumatic experience of working during the initial COVID-19 outbreak, so there’s a darkness underlying his swashbuckling charm. And The Pitt’s conceit, where each episode chronicles one hour of Robby’s 15-hour shift, compounded with streaming’s allowance for more graphic content, lends the series an intensity that even trumps ER’s, if possible. |
But I’d be lying if I said it’s not extremely pleasant fanfiction to imagine this Pittsburgh hospitalas where Dr. Carter landed, looking for a restart all these years after ER ended. It’s also besides the point—but maybe entirely the point—that, good lerd, does Wyle wear these last 15 years well. Strutting around with confidence swirling around him like pheromones, a casual hoodie over his scrubs, and a constant half-smirk on his face, he is so understatedly, yet radiantly hot that I would be throwing myself down the stairs every other week just to land back in his ER again. |
In my deranged mind, whenever the former presidents and their spouses get together, it’s like a Real Housewives reunion. I could watch the way they greet each other—or don’t—and interact for hours. All it’s missing is Andy Cohen reading them shady questions from random Twitter accounts: “Mike Pence, @jansixth4ever69 wants to know if you think Donald owes you an apology for almost having you killed.” As you can imagine, then, I’m fascinated by this drive-by belly tap that George W. Bush gave Barack Obama when he arrived at Jimmy Carter’s funeral. And by fascinated, I mean I will be thinking about it forever. And by forever, I mean sporadically through at least Monday. |
The devastation in Los Angeles is overwhelming. What it’s like for anyone going through it is truly unimaginable. I have nothing valuable to say, so instead, I hope to find something in it for us to laugh about. For example, let’s all giggle about ABC News’ David Muir cinching his prop fireman’s jacket with clothespins while reporting on the fire earlier this week. Do I fault him for doing it? Nah, girl. Do what you gotta do to look your best. In fact, it’s pretty common practice in TV to do this. Less common, though, is getting caught. So it’s the whole breaking of the illusion thing that is hilarious and, surely, embarrassing for him. |
And, if we’re the spirit of laughing at things, perhaps the Very Online among us will enjoy this X post my friend in L.A. sent me tying some of the best pop-culture memes of the last few years to the fires in an attempt to find some levity in the trauma of it all. |
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More From The Daily Beast’s Obsessed |
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