Joe Millionaire
Fox
Mondays, 9pm / 8pm Central

"Joe Millionaire" is a seven-part reality series in which 20 women vie to marry a dashing millionaire named Evan. The catch: He's a construction worker who makes $19,000 per year. The women are eliminated until Evan chooses his bride and reveals his secret, leaving the winner with an ostensibly heart-wrenching decision. Flak will provide spirited commentary on every episode each Tuesday morning.

Part One:
In which the word "postmodern" is used, but only once

We first meet Evan smiling goofily in his construction-worker-dirt-moving contraption, messy-haired and unshaven. He romanticizes his job, moving dirt from point A to point B, by comparing it to the work of Renaissance artist Michelangelo. They may as well have rubbed dirt on his face and given him a Dr Pepper to swig while dowdy office workers lusted from their cubicle windows above. It is clear from the first minutes of the "old Evan" that this is a man who definitely listens to Creed. But the weird thing is, you almost think it's not his fault.

Now, Evan is objectively good-looking, which is to say that everything about him screams "good genes." While there have been studies that have actually linked symmetrical features with intelligence, in Evan's case as in that of Playboy Playmates and rumored-ly Brad Pitt, that idea is subject to the law of diminishing returns. He can definitely feed and bathe himself and no doubt do a bang-up job of protecting his young from tigers, but let's face it: Evan is simple folk.

Soon, Evan meets the butler who will be the Alfred to his Bruce Wayne in the gigantic castle in France where all of this will go down. In a few short Pygmalion scenes, Alfred teaches Evan about forks and napkins and dancing and, hilariously, wine.

Then, the women arrive. Except for one doctor, they all seem to be in low-status, traditionally-feminine professions like flight attendant and customer service representative. This makes sense because the producers probably didn't want a Nancy Drew smarty-pants nosing around and uncovering the Truth About Evan, did they?

As the girls arrive at the castle in groups in horse-drawn carriages, we see snippets from interviews in which they talk about their "lifelong dream that every girl dreams about in this fantasy-dream-type-thing about being a princess," or something. Yawn.

"Ahhve niver day-ted anywun who hay-ed munny before," says one twangy tart, bouncing her blonde home-perm. And guess what? She isn't going to this time, either.

Evan shakily rides up on horseback to briefly greet the girls. When he rides away, they shriek with joy and excitement at his hunkiness.

"He reminds me of Gaston, from the fairy tale," says one hopeful, dreamily gazing off the balcony at the palace grounds that will one day be hers. The fairy tale she speaks of is Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Gaston was the villain.

We learn that there is to be a ball, and before it a free-for-all game of musical dresses in which Heidi, a feisty Southerner reminiscent of Nicole Kidman in To Die For, only less funny and more disconcerting, carries not one but two dresses off to her lair. This selfish act doesn't go unnoticed by anyone, and contributes to a fairy-tale-esque dilemma for slouchy-but-cute homespun substitute teacher Zora, who thinks the castle is "a long way from [her] roach-infested apartment," as she's left without a dress that fits. Another contestant kindly trades with Zora, and a crisis is averted. From this segment we learn that we will be seeing a lot of both Heidi and Zora in future episodes. A heroine and a villainess are created.

The ball is boring, until the host-lady comes out and announces it's time for Evan to pick 12 of the 20 to stay in the game. They bring out a velvet jewelry box and announce that Evan will symbolize his desire for the fortunate 12 by giving them each "a strand of pearls."

That's right, the lucky girls each go to bed with ... a Pearl Necklace.

Great care is made not to say this exact phrase. At one point they even call it "a lovely necklace, a strand of pearls." But there's just no way to get around it. It's a pearl necklace. What were they thinking?

Evan gives them their necklaces in one of those dumb, made-up "ceremonies" typical of all reality shows. There isn't much suspense because we already know whom he's going to pick because of how much screen time and character development they've nabbed. He picks Evil Heidi because she's "ballsy" (in People of Normal Intelligence terms: "desperate" and "trying too hard.") He picks Cinder-Zora to be the Anti-Heidi, mop-top Melissa, of the "magnificent smile," a chick who looks like Carolyn Bessette Kennedy, and eight other women who probably won't stay long because they weren't given much screen time.

There's the usual speech about how hard the decision was, the rejects are sent packing, and the lucky maidens retire to their bedchambers, pearl necklaces glistening on their chests and visions of diamonds, caviar, and amazing advances in the field of plastic surgery dancing in their heads.

As the credits roll, a promo for the 10 o'clock news flashes across the screen, promising an interview with Evan himself. It's an example of the delightful irony of the show, which is the fact that Evan no doubt will be rich and famous, if for only a while, and one little girl's dream of the golden ticket will come true despite all the forces of the evil Fox Corporation conspiring against her. Can you think of a more appropriate postmodern fairy tale?

— Lindsay Robertson (lindsay@lindsayism.com)