Modelland by Tyra Banks
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
01/29/2016 Update:
Today is filled with some true WTFuck moments.
Today is all about Manattack.
As far as I can tell Manattack is Modelland’s Quidditch.
Quidditch was always my least favorite part of Harry Potter books. For one, it was always the clumsiest part. “Sigh, Potter, you’ve forgotten again? You need to stop living with Muggles. Listen up, Quidditch goes like this.” C’mon. Just put a rulebook in the back or something. It’s a made up sport. I don’t even care about real sports, let alone the made up ones. Also, there’s a team called the Quafflepunchers. C’mon. C’mon.
I never liked how Quidditch seemed like it was important even though these students/kids were magic-ing for their fucking lives. If I went to a high school where the faculty murdered my parents, and one time there was a murderous troll in the bathroom instead of just scary drug dealers, I don’t think I would have given a fuck about football. I didn’t give a fuck about football as it stood already, so if there actually was something better to do, all the more not giving a fuck. Who gives a flying broomstick up the ass about sports when your classes involve shooting magic laser wand shit at people?
And finally, the Snitch. That never made sense. If you get that, the game is just over and you win? There must be a thousand million internet articles about what a dumb thing that is, so I won’t belabor the point. I just want to say that I think Quidditch is probably the weakest aspect of Harry Potter and something I don’t care for, and STILL, Modelland finds a way to do it much worse.
Now, here’s what Manattack is, best I can decipher. This is a struggle, so don’t be a dick about it. I’m confused too. If there’s one thing Tyra is bad at, it’s description, and if there’s another thing, it’s drawing a word diagram of what’s happening in a scene. Manattack involves both of these skills, so here we go.
In a stadium, a boy from Bestosterone and a girl from Modelland stand on opposite sides of a plank. I’m not entirely sure how wide this plank is, nor how long.
A buzzer sounds, and the boy and girl run towards each other and try to push each other off the plank. There’s some kind of antigravity that hurls someone back onto the plank if they fall, but falling costs points. You can shove someone or trick them by kissing them and surprising them, or whatever.
Then, clothing comes shooting out of these holes that are somewhere, and the competitors have to assemble the best outfit, based on some kind of theme they’re given at some point, also not really clear.
THEN, the makeup portion. Red and blue balls appear “out of thin air”. The red ones are girl makeup, the blue ones boy makeup. The contestants touch their balls (!) and rub stuff on their faces (!), but you have to be quick about it (!) because once you touch a ball (!) it’s set to explode(!) You have to put on makeup to score points, and then if your opponent smears you with the contents of a ball (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) then you lose points.
Finally, the pair takes a photo together, and whoever dominates the photo wins points.
At the end of this competition, scores, which seem so fucking arbitrary that they rival Conan’s video game scores, are given.
Three girls go up against three boys separately, and of course, it’s Tookie v. Bravo.
Just before the competition, we have relationship drama. For your mama.
Tookie reveals to Bravo that she and the Unicas are planning to escape through the Zip-Zap. And Bravo gets pissed because he thought Tookie wanted to go with him through the Zip-Zap so they could make out, but it turns out she just wants to escape because…she can’t say why.
And that’s why so many fictional romances are fucking stupid.
There is no reason Tookie can’t just SAY “Because Ci~L is going to murder and torture us. I can’t explain how I know, but I know, and if we don’t leave now, we will be killed, and I’m into you because you’re hot and nice and you’re the only one who is a dick to Zarpessa, which is desperately needed at all times, but I can’t stay because I’ll die horribly.” I guess there’s ONE thing preventing her from saying that, which is that she’d have to say “Ci~L” aloud.
And if Tookie could say all that stuff, then Bravo could easily say, “Oh, totally. I mean, I’m disappointed you’ll be leaving, but hell, you can’t stay and get killed.”
Done and done.
But instead, we can’t tell Bravo WHY we’re doing the thing that’s absolutely forbidden, just THAT we’re doing it.
This reminds me of those Meet The Parents movies. I feel like every joke in that movie is something like Ben Stiller is combing his hair, then he drops his comb and the dog picks it up, and then he chases the dog and tries to get the comb, and right then DeNiro walks in and it looks like Ben Stiller is fucking the dog. And DeNiro gets all disgusted and acts like Ben Stiller is a jerk or something.
But if there was ANY reality, what would happen in the following 10 seconds would be that DeNiro would see Ben Stiller clearly isn’t fucking the dog. He’s got his pants on, he’s not erect, and the asshole dog stole his comb, and that’s it. But we cut out that stuff because it would’t be HILARIOUS if that was in there. And by “that” I mean a modicum of reality.
These jokes don’t work. They don’t fucking work. Because they’re predicated on the idea that reality stops and starts based on what the viewer is seeing. Is it possible that the makers of these films are making a profound philosophical point about perception and reality? A really complex version of the tree falling in a woods question?
No, it’s not. It’s just stupid.
And so many fictional romances work this way too. I see my girlfriend with her ex, and I see what I think is them making out, but really it’s not my girlfriend or not her ex or there’s a really solid explanation what’s going on, and if the movie allowed for a 30-second conversation, all would be good.
But that’s not dramatic! So instead, we have a flimsy, invented problem and just make sure that no one is willing to talk about it, and then we have a tumultuous romance, and then we have Twilight. Yes, this is how Twilight happens. I blame creators of this stupid trope for Twilight. We need a romance based on a vampire who doesn’t want to turn a human into a vampire because being a vampire is…well, it’s fucking awesome. You sparkle in the sun, you’re hot, you have abs, and sometimes you can SEE THE FUCKING FUTURE. Yes, I would hate to damn a mortal to that fate.
Alright, so it’s dumb, and then Bravo’s pissed, so he tells Tookie that getting her to love him was just a bet. Which is total bullshit and the most obvious lie in the book yet, and ALSO a really fucking stupid movie thing they do. Once, just once, I want someone to make the romcom where the quarterback makes a bet that he can make anyone prom queen, and his buddies are like, “Alight, Stinky!” And then it turns out that Stinky really is awful, inside and out.
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with the guys in those movies. Who should you try and make hot? How about Rachael Leigh Cook over there? Haha, good luck!
Do these dudes have eyes? Do they own eyeballs? Are the eyeballs hooked up to anything inside the skull? What the fuck?
So instead of being excited to engage in friendly competition, Bravo and Tookie are pissed at each other, and they enter the Manattack!
The competition begins with Tookie clotheslining Bravo off the plank somehow. We’ve read dozens of pages about his rippling muscles, but fine, whatever, Tookie is just fueled by the rage of being a bet and being used, even though she was TOTALLY using Bravo too, but whatever, no time for thinking, the countdown has already begun (the countdown from Z to A that happens during each portion because that’s probably the worst way ever conceived to count down a thing).
Then there’s the part where wardrobe comes shooting out from everywhere. Tookie almost gets knocked off the plank, but Bravo saves her, and for his troubles he gets a full-on punch to the face.
And then the makeup phase, and Tookie describes what her first kiss will be like in order to make Bravo jealous.
Buckle up, fuckers.
“I’m going to be under a perfect sunset, near a garden of golden flowers spreading as far as the eye can see…The lucky guy who will get to pucker with my suckers will be wearing wearing a…tuxedo…and he’s going to sing to me a song he wrote and he’ll dance to it. It needs to make me laugh and make me cry…Then he will open up his shirt like a superhero. On his chest will be written, ‘Tookie, you are the most amazing girl I have ever laid eyes on. And I can’t decide which I love more, your green or your brown eye.’ Then he’ll have to touch my face gently with both hands…and he’ll kiss my forehead, both of my cheeks, and then my nose. Then he’ll spray whipped cream straight into my mouth and then his. And then he’ll part his mouth just a little and press his lips against mine. And for me, it will feel like the kiss will never end. Because it won’t. It will go on forever. And it will be AMAZING!”
…
…
…
There’s so, so much here, and I want to pick and choose just the very best.
“I can’t decide which I love more, your green or your brown eye.” Okay. You’re still looking for your first kiss. Save the butt stuff for the pros.
“Then he’ll spray whipped cream into my mouth.” There’s absolutely nothing to say in regards to that line that you, reader, haven’t thought already.
After Tookie’s fugue, Bravo feels like shit, says he made up the bet thing. I nearly fell out of my fucking chair in disbelief. This Modelland, more twists and turns than a goddamn Twizzler Pull n Peel caught in that rotating brush on the Roomba. Not my most relatable analogy, but trust me, APT. AS. HELL.
Tookie screams that she loves Theophilus, which Zarpessa hears and is pissed about, and Bravo gets pissed all over again because he’s like, “Wait, you got a dude at home? What the fuck?”
Dude at home? They’re trapped in a modeling-themed prison camp. This is like meeting someone in Auschwitz and being like, “Oh, you made out with a dude back in Poland? Well, fuck you then.” Smizeschwitz.
Okay, there’s a little more.
Bravo feels like shit, so he tells Tookie that she’ll win if she lets him hold the activated makeup ball bomb thingies. Tookie picks one up to activate it, and it’s a SMIZE! Remember that thing that was a little jewel with a LED display flag that came in through the water pipes at the beginning of the book? Okay, I guess somehow a makeup ball can be a SMIZE too, and Tookie activates it.
The description of the SMIZE’s effect is not great, but Tookie feels like she’s a bright light in a dim room, and she hears thousands of words run through her head. So I’m 90% sure a SMIZE is PCP.
The makeup blows up on Bravo, and Tookie takes the better picture because she’s either holding a SMIZE or is tripping balls.
Tookie wins the Manattack and is the new champion.
And I swear to all that is holy I did not know this when I started reading/writing today, but Manattack is Quidditch, and there’s a snitch, and it’s a SMIZE. What a wondrous journey we’re on together.
Just then, the escape plan begins. Dylan pretends to faint for some reason, and all the lights go out. It’s time.