Image Credit: Adam Olszweski/_television/genres/bravo The problem with the new cast of Housewives is that none of them are friends. This is a regular complaint about the franchise but it strikes me as a deeper issue in D.C. There seems to be no real reason for any of them ever to gather, and Paulâs birthday comes but once a year. (Nice toast, Paul. You and the divine Aunt Frances lifted up an otherwise dullsville hour of TV.) Instead we get scattered random scenes of minutiae from not very interesting or likable peoplesâ lives: Mary really believing that sheâs speaking Spanish (âshampoo the rugs,â she said in her best Speedy Gonzalez accent) to her patient maid Rosa, Stacieâs husband talking penis volume nonsense, Michaele squealing over obnoxious handbags. There were quick flashes of the Potomac and the White House but nothing about these women is defining their locale, and so far their rapport and antics lacks, whatâs that word?, oh yes, sparkle.
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