'The Robert Verdi
Show,' hold the nuts
The star in this new Logo reality series works hard
By Tom Conroy
Feb 10, 2010
Some people have been starring in their own imaginary reality show since long before the term “reality show” existed. They live every moment — or at least every public moment — as if they were being followed by a very demanding film crew that is constantly reminding them to keep it interesting for the camera.
Robert Verdi, a self-described “tastemaker, stylist and television personality,” is clearly one of those people. His new reality series, “The Robert Verdi Show Starring Robert Verdi,” takes his flamboyant persona and carries it to its illogical conclusion.
The new series, which premieres on Logo tonight at 10 p.m., is being promoted as a “reality comedy series” — in other words, unlike most reality shows, it’s openly fake. Portraying himself as a deluded egomaniac, Verdi comes up with various idiotic schemes, such as creating a negative-calorie lollipop or turning himself into “an internationally beloved children’s cartoon character,” and then makes his harried and far less colorful staff do all the work.
The series is an effective parody of the eccentric-boss subgenre of reality TV (think “Flipping Out” or “Kell on Earth”). Viewers who have tired of seeing imperious jerks strutting around on television — or in real life — should enjoy it, although perhaps not as much as Verdi seems to be enjoying himself. It helps to be the kind of person who cracks up every time someone says “nuts.”
The show keeps the action and the jokes coming thick and fast. In the premiere, Robert and his staff create his children’s character while organizing a baby shower for the “Ugly Betty” actress Ana Ortiz; Robert also finds time to go to New Jersey to be inducted into his junior high school’s hall of fame.
Robert, who pretends that he’s too busy to learn people’s names, decides to try out his children’s character on a focus group comprising his four nieces. “There’s number one, the second one, the blonde and the little one,” he says. “Those aren’t their real names, though.”
Having a tea party with the little girls in a Hello Kitty store, Robert takes advantage of the occasion to tell them that he’s gay. They take it in stride.
Robert also pretends to forget the names of his staffers, whom he generally treats abusively. After he gets one of his brilliant ideas, he calls a meeting by yelling, “Bitches!” During one meeting, he gets a back rub; during another, he is treated by his acupuncturist.
The staffers’ sighs and eye rolls are sometimes a bit too convincing, suggesting that maybe Robert’s TV persona isn’t that far from the real Robert. One male employee takes a large share of the verbal abuse; whether or not this is played up for the camera, it’s the least funny part of the show.
Once Robert’s projects reach the pitch stage, the producers set up Ali G-style meetings with real professionals. Since these outsiders seem to be in on the joke, the meetings aren’t as hilarious as Sacha Baron Cohen’s segments usually are, but they’re also less painful to watch.
In the second episode Logo made available for review, Robert pitches his negative-calorie lollipop to an editor at Self magazine. “If you’re fat,” he says, “no one will ever love you, not even your parents.” Since the sweet contains both fiber and ipecac, he says, it will make people “puke and poop.” The editor politely declines.
Robert then decides he’ll try to make his customers gain weight first. He has his caterer create two ice-cream flavors, Robert Verdi’s My Nuts and Robert Verdi’s Sweet Sticky Stuff, which prompt the expected double-entendres.
As the series’ arch title suggests, Robert has put a lot of himself into it. He not only is the focus of almost every scene but also delivers most of the punch lines.
Like his ice cream, he’s probably best enjoyed in small doses. The show’s half-hour length is about the right serving size.
|
|
|
