E!’s ‘Model Squad’: Supermodels, like, don’t have dates, and a boyfriend opts to punt on 4th down
Posted: Friday, Sept. 21, 2018
There's something heartening in the E! series "Model Squad":
Even supermodels go dateless to parties.
But don't get too excited just yet.
Watch just a little reality TV, and you quickly get the formula — arguments, tears, maybe, if lucky, a marriage proposal.
"Model Squad" strikes out. It promises far more than it delivers in an exasperating, soap opera-esque time frame.
The series unravels around the sluggish courtship of Caroline and her boyfriend, Heath Hutchins. He's apparently an elite model in his own right and once punted for Mississippi State University. He gets way too much hang time in this program and repeatedly shanks his scenes.
Heath actually complains, "I don't love all of the attention, at all," as cameras follow his multiple "surprise" appearances in which Caroline claims that taking a hydroplane ride and petting a tiger are the greatest things that ever happened to her.
Of course, who wouldn't want to hang around with the "Model Squad," especially if you're a male. Well, 1) just listen to them talk for a bit, or 2) think about eating at a fine restaurant with mints in the shape of ... um ... something we're not going to describe here, or 3) think about inserting "like" into every one of your sentences to communicate with them ... and see how interested you still are.
"Model Squad," an 8-part series by E! premiering in September 2018 to coincide with New York Fashion Week, aims to show how the models "juggle relationships, friendships and hardships" while navigating a "cut-throat" profession.
The "hardships" for this crew, such as deciding which New York City condo to buy, undergoing cryotherapy and figuring out how to climb in and out of a cake (when it's for your boyfriend Ruckus, you just do it, we're told), are about as nonexistent as the relationships. These people report not seeing their "significant others" for days or weeks at a time. Everyone is pretty nonchalant about that. (Note: It seems as though the most important criteria to be a boyfriend of these models is that you have to look good in pictures with them.)
There are some serious issues under the surface. One revelation of the series is that there appears to be a certain level of ethnic tension in the modeling industry. Several times, non-white models are shown sitting together amid the whites. It's also a fair question as to how feminists would rate this series on a scale of 1 to 10.
There are several comments throughout the series about the demand for jobs. These models appear to have regular work, but one says 70% of the assignments go to whites. There's another issue that is not addressed in "Model Squad" about the individual pay. Are these women getting their due? No one is heard discussing the payment formula of IMG, the agency of most of the cast members. One model will discuss her savings and investments with her father; neither he nor she questions if she is actually being adequately compensated.
"Model Squad" has no story arc and no focus. There's no buildup to big events. Every shoot or runway is about the same; if they don't get it, it's on to the next job. The parties are astoundingly dull. In Episode 1, we're told it's about making the Victoria's Secret cut, then we barely see any of the show or its auditions.
The series does hit some home runs, right where you'd expect — when the models are shown in cover shoots. Words can't adequately convey what these individuals look like in front of a camera; it has to be seen.
Who's the best? That is incredibly subjective, though it's not really incredibly subjective, because only a few hundred people at most can do these jobs.
Caroline Lowe is jaw-droppingly gorgeous in any environment, any attire. The show favors her not only for this reason but because she is apparently the only one who might be on the verge of getting engaged. Off the job, Shanina Shaik is the most low-key of the bunch, but when the cameras start clicking, Shanina is nuclear fission.
The show's reliable center, the Richie Cunningham/Brandon Walsh (those references are way too old for these women), is Olivia Culpo, who is described throughout the series as an "influencer," which sounds suspiciously like a social media dynamo. She clearly aspires to being Kim Kardashian Jr. She doesn't have the status or look of the others but seems to know everyone in this scene, which is important for a program such as this. Olivia seems to have little idea what to do at the Sports Illustrated shoot; it doesn't help that the suit she is wearing looks strange and uncomfortable. Her photos are OK, but did anyone think Sports Illustrated was going to take part in this production and put "M.J." on screen only to deny Olivia an appearance in the magazine?
Brought in to bolster the teamwork angle is Ashley Moore. Ashley is apparently necessary because she is friendly with both Caroline and Ping Hue, the archrivals of the IMG stable, and is capable of inviting them to the same event. Ashley doesn't even seem to know why she's moving to New York or why she's going to a photo shoot. To legitimize her presence, the show's producers apparently arranged for her to tag along with legit supermodel Daniela at a G.Q. shoot. Photographer Bryce Thompson wonders why Ashley has no portfolio or business card to show him. (The show presumably arranged this event.) "Please get a book; otherwise when you walk out that door, it's like, you never happened. It's kind of a waste of your time, and everyone else's time," Thompson says.
Harsh. But great advice.
Later, Ping will tell Ashley much the same. "I know you're self-sufficient, but I need you to be more boss," Ping says.
Yu Tsai, who this program implies is the world's preeminent fashion photographer, tells Ashley she needs to "eat better."
Ashley does look great in a red hat.
If Heath's sorta/maybe/whoknows engagement effort is the show's trump card, the ace would be the apparent feud between Caroline and Ping. The feud fizzles, however, when no one will really explain how or why or when it started. The closest we get is Ping at one point telling Caroline, "Every time I see you at events, you, muggin' and buggin', looking at me."
"Muggin' and buggin'. Looking at me." The horror.
But it's Caroline who uncorks maybe the series' most interesting line when she quietly informs Nadine, "Ping's name is Diana. She changed her name to Ping to be more Asian."
Caroline and Ping are both represented by IMG, as are most of the cast (but not Heath, curiously), which means 1) the models already are somewhat familiar with each other and 2) probably aren't interested in sparring unnecessarily with their colleagues, both serious setbacks for the aspirations of this type of series.
Ping is allowed ample screen time to say something controversial. At Caroline's pool party, Ping tells Ashley, apparently in reference to Caroline, "If you wanna wear the bitch filter." Bemoaning what she apparently perceives as Caroline's dislike for her, Ping shrugs, "It's not like I slept with her boyfriend." She adds, "Modeling industry can be a lot like high school. I'm too grown for it."
It turns out the most controversial comments came not from Ping nor Caroline but Devon, the St. Louis blonde who found the conversation on racial barriers too good to pass up, explaining she modeled in Europe. "I didn't speak Paris (sic), didn't speak Italian. And I did that for like, two years," Devon says.
"I don't think you can relate to the turmoils of being different," Ping says.
"You know how hard it is to be blonde? I have to get a highlight every month!" Devon responded.
That comment prompted a social-media apology from Devon, afterwards to apologize for the "incredibly insensitive" remarks. Culpo says that on this program, "information can be taken out of context & misconstrued to manufacture drama." Perhaps it was also taken out of context when Devon notes in Episode 3 that she's not wearing underwear for a runway show, so hopefully she won't stumble. Shanina also notes a commando situation when trying on wedding dresses.
Daniela, who might be the most gorgeous of the bunch (again, it's subjective), seems intrigued to be part of this program. Daniela enjoys dispensing wisdom. "Never drive in New York with no insurance," Daniela advises, but she's also sensitive about those with Latina stereotypes. "I am not stupid honey; I have my degree in business. I speak 3 language(s)," Daniela states, adding that when she says something that sounds like "betch," it really is "beach," not "bitch."
"Bitch" is heard several times during the series, sometimes as a term of endearment. "Girl" or "girls" is used often around these 20-somethings; that term, it seems, is OK in the proper context.
Devon implies that modeling and medicine are somewhat of a match. "You have to always be on call. It's like being a doctor," Devon says.
Devon also reveals, "Seriously, nobody looks good trying to find their Uber."
The girls claim to outfox the paparazzi by … turning around their patio furniture.
Ashley states, "Surprisingly I'm actually really excited to start eating veggies, drink a lot more water," because "you book more jobs."
Ashley's friend Nancy asks Ping about a horse show and wonders, "How do they run, do you know?" Ping answers, "It's like a dog show, but with horses. And you're not on top of the dog."
The girls regularly express concerns about height and butt. "As long as there's men in the world, there's- cleavage is always gonna be in style. No, trust me, I have big boobs and a big ass (she will say this twice). It's like, super fun," Caroline explains.
Only once in the series, in South Beach Miami, does a certain biological issue surface. "We're synching up," someone says. Caroline tells a story about red paint in art class.
M.J., the Sports Illustrated honcho, says "I feel like Sports Illustrated is in probably one of the most powerful positions it's been in a really long time." The magazine is cutting back print issues every year and is basically for sale.
Unfortunately, most of the funny lines are unintentional. There's a bit of a Suzanne Somers/"Three's Company" element here, but she was trying to sound that way. These women are not paid to be funny. (G.Q. apparently somehow once called Caroline "funny as hell.") Ping comes closest when revealing a past arrest: "When I took my mugshot, I was like, 'Damn, that's a good Polaroid.'"
All of those quips are incidental to the massive effort to compel Heath and Caroline to ... do something or other.
First, the good. Heath and Caroline (and their colleagues) are in the fraction-of-1% of human attractiveness and are proof that such specimens, however rare, come from anywhere. Heath is from tiny Saltillo, Miss., and as this excellent profile indicates, was discovered by accident. This is a person who, before this massive break, "had just caught on with a car dealership." (If you think weight only matters with women, note that once Heath's pounds fell from 220 to 180, "the jobs really started to roll in.") He once said most male models are European and tend to be "soft" because they haven't dealt with the "real world." There is a good argument that, aside from Caroline, Heath has a great story to tell that, like the hydroplane, flies well under the show's radar. Caroline is from the upscale community of Windermere, Fla., home to jocks and pro golfers. She apparently got her start in the Orlando Sentinel in 2010. Each appears down to earth around family members and happy to spend time with them.
Their scenes together would've been most exciting had the producers just contained them to Starkville and filmed Caroline cringing every time a Mississippi State fan spies Heath. (Who knew college punters were so famous.) One of the funniest scenes is when Caroline actually gets jealous at the table server who introduces herself to Heath. "I was like, oh my God, you guys are making his ego," Caroline says. The server also pronounces her name "Carolon," which prompts Caroline to correct the pronunciation," but the server breezily apologizes and is more interested in meeting Heath.
In a tiresome, expected line, Caroline complains that "every time" she goes to Starkville, she's asked when she's getting married. "At first it was cute, but now it's like, OK," Caroline says. She gets Devon to buy into this notion. "Down South, you're like ..." says Devon, who's from St. Louis, and Caroline finishes, "Exactly, I'm supposed to be married with like 3 kids already."
Actually, it sounds like Heath's family is far more skeptical than Caroline gives them credit for. Heath's sister Makela looks like she was enlisted to go out on the porch and tell him "I feel like I'm gettin' old" as entree to ask Heath about a possible engagement. She asks him "are you sure that she's the right one for you" and adds that Caroline's dad "may not ever like wanna give her up."
Heath responds, "As long as Caroline's happy, I'm happy."
"I've been in Mississippi, but like, that's not considered a vacation," Caroline explains to her friends.
Makela and Caroline's dad are on the same wavelength. In an incredibly clumsy sequence about supposed ring-shopping, the couple tell Caroline's dad what they were doing. He informs them, "This is not the time to get married."
Heath backpedals, "I personally didn't even care to look at rings."
Caroline's dad freely admits, "I don't want her to get married at a young age and have regrets later on in life." (Translation: Not really sure about this guy.)
Caroline's dad also wonders about Heath's next career. "You know, I really don't have like a solid plan," Heath admits, but he's sure he can do this job "for several more years."
"Everyone always asks, 'What are you gonna do after modeling,'" Heath grumbles later.
Maybe he'd have better luck with Caroline's mom, whom Caroline actually calls an "a------" on national television, reminding her, "I'm on f------ television."
Heath tells Caroline, "Like you know, I don't do anything like on a, on a limb."
Then there's the time when Heath and Caroline struggle to figure out what it's called when a man asks a woman to marry him.
"It's been like something since Day 1, like, if I ever wanna engage Caroline, I have to go through this-" Heath says.
"Engage me?" Caroline says.
"(Bleep) I don't know, whaddayou call it," Heath says.
"Propose, I guess," Caroline said.
Perhaps Heath, who seems to believe the notion that "8 years salary" is standard for engagement rings, will someday find a more receptive audience for his "mangina" stories. At one point he informs Caroline, "Maybe you're the right person at the wrong time."
(Heath has a shaved head in the Mississippi State roster, where he is listed at 6-1, unlike his current management billing of 6-2. He is not listed among the notable people section of the Wikipedia page for Saltillo. Likewise, Caroline does not make the cut for Windermere.)
In a show about people who are regularly surrounded by cameras and always aware of them, candid, real looks are at a premium. The best is actually Caroline with her cat, her most beautiful look in the show.
"Model Squad" unfortunately destroys the notion that dating a model would be exciting. One of the series' first big moments, Caroline's welcome party for Ashley, shows or implies most of the models dateless with nothing to talk about. Caroline invited her brother to meet the hapless Nadine, the spare part in this project, but Nadine refuses, and brother spends the evening on a deck chair. Ping goes on a few excruciating, had-to-do-this-for-TV dates, then is set up by her brother, who points out "these types of people" that she hangs out with leave her "emotionally drained" ... so that's not "conducive" to future accomplishment. Olivia drags Danny Amendola to a few events, but he's notably absent for her big moments. Olivia says Amendola "plays for the Patriots," but he signed with the Miami Dolphins in March 2018, an indication of the age of this footage.
Amendola is so backstage in this production that the crew had to resort to milking drama from Olivia's dad. He complains about having a "lot of pressure" in running a restaurant with Olivia. She can't believe it. "Oh my gosh dad it helps, like the amount of press that I've given this restaurant," Olivia says.
Olivia heard dad say that he maybe has second thoughts about this operation. She wants him to declare that the restaurant wouldn't be as busy without her, especially given that not only was the parking lot full, but "the farm across the street was full." Dad concedes, "Yeah I didn't really mean it that way that I regretted having you as a partner."
That and the "uncertainly" around her Sports Illustrated session causes Olivia to break out with folliculitis. "I wonder if it's caused by stress" she says.
What exactly does Olivia do? We see her in tears in a car with her manager, stating, "Like I always think, I can be doing more, and it's like this awful trap, because I'll never be doing enough."
At the big Miami confab, Olivia offers a moment of levity when complaining about "haters" on social media. "What about when you post a picture of like the food that you did eat, and they're like, 'She never ate that.'" Shanina impressively scoffs, "I can't be bothered going through my Instagram, so many pictures." Olivia lights up when getting to read the card at the drinking game that says, "Never have I ever been cheated on!!!" They all did a toast.
Unfortunately for "Model Squad," these people are only exciting when they're working. The series misses several opportunities. There is very little about when and where the models were discovered; some of them volunteer a few bits of information. Almost nothing is said about the salaries. Is Caroline's net worth 7 digits, 8 digits, or 6 digits? How do they get health insurance? Sometimes there are complaints about having to pay their own way to the Victoria's Secret shoot and perhaps not be chosen. (It is curious to watch these auditions in which the model, after strutting a few paces, stops and talks to the evaluators and either answer questions or receive tips.) How much do they tan? Do they all have personal trainers? The models look like they spend 8 hours a day at fitness centers, but the series implies something less than that. Shanina notes that Wednesday is for working on "booty … Hump Day." Do the models get to keep the clothes they are photographed in?
Instead of whipping through the cast's vital stats in the first and second episode, E! should've permanently shown stats and info at the bottom of the screen (think "Pop-Up Video") while the models are on-camera.
Many scenes appear choppy, as if the show inserted a lot of cuts of people looking speechless to make conversations look more dramatic. To its credit, the series avoids showing endless texting and Instagramming, at least until the last episode.
What's the end game here? Hard to believe, but the people in "Model Squad" are likely on the downside of their careers in a profession that, at this elite level, ranges from maybe ages 17-27, with far more hoopla toward the lower number. Ping and her brother agree that there's an "expiration date" and that a lot of models are "banking on marrying a rich guy." Ping refuses to reveal her age (though any of her colleagues can easily find it by Googling), but it's Caroline who seems most concerned about the "3" word.
"I'm like, no, I might be 22, but I'm doing things that like, 30-year-olds are doing," Caroline explains at one point. After 5 years in New York, she didn't know the difference between the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building. But aside from condo-shopping, "I also looked into an IRA," she tells her dad.
Gorgeous, wealthy, 20-something jet-setters. These should be the happiest people on earth. But "Model Squad" is as much a warning as fantasy. The clock is ticking. In "Wall Street," Lou Mannheim gives Bud Fox a sound piece of advice: "Enjoy it while it lasts. 'Cause it never does."
2 stars
"Model Squad" (2018)
Executive in charge: Julie Anne Lawrence
Senior producer: Gina Mace-Sands
Supervising producer: Robert Pearson
Producer: Lauren Rosenberg
Lead editor: Bruce Westcott
Story producer: Liz Abernethy
Director of photography: Matt Shelly
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