Miz Janice Dickinson is back, draggin' her crew of wannabe models along for the Ride Through Crazy, on her increasingly unbelievable show, The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency, on Oxygen.
Because this happens every day in business, Janice decides to move her agency from its central location on some Los Angeles strip, to a ridiculous mansion hill in the hills, miles from the city. Not only does she make the models live there (presumably leaving their apartments a couple miles away elsewhere in L.A.), but this is where clients will come. Riiiggghhht.
So far, there's been one great scene of meeting with a client that took place virtually in the kitchen, another that had the models strutting their stuff in a cramped room, and a bizarre pop-in from a cosmetic dentist.
This tacky mansion is so My First Big Movie Paycheck hillbilly that there is a even motorboat taking up two-thirds of the pool, and nobody seems to mind.
Anyhow, continuing the fantasy (that is to say, the producers demands to make the show more like other models-in-the-house series), Janice moves in a selection of new and "pre-existing" (her term) models.
Keeping with Janice's much-trumpeted edge, the new fish include a Japanese girl who can't speak much English, a Russian gal who looks fake from head to toe like a Real Doll, a girl with a big butt (future fodder for Janice tantrums) and a deaf guy.
We also have to pretend that Janice is living there, in a special room redecorated for her by "Madonna's brother." He glams it up, and also builds a Dr. No-style room with closed-circuit TV so Janice can spy on her housemates. The decorator easily dropped five figures on this Janice suite, but then simply hung a plastic 69-cent "Keep Out" sign on her door?
So far the first three episodes have focused mostly on the house "dramas" – endless squabbling between the old and new models, and repeated exhortations from Janice and the models about how great Janice is.
The actual shoots have been rather dull -- a retro-style swimsuit company and a rugged jeans campaign. Where's the eye candy? I hope all those borderline soft-core underwear manufacturers and gay fetish designers haven't been nixed from the line-up. Who can forget last season's drunken, bondage-themed ass-less pants shoot? Now, that was some modeling.