Here’s something I don’t understand about “The Golden Bachelor”: How can a reality show so contrived, so cheesy and fake, be so real?
It’s hard to imagine someone more earnest, even Forrest Gump-like, than Hoosier Gerry Turner, the 72-year-old golden guy who signed up for this dating show in order to find the love of the rest of his life.
When engaging one-on-one with the contestants who participate in Week 2 of the show, he doesn’t seem to be eyeballing their rack or, in fact, looking anywhere besides their eyes.
With one or two exceptions, the women seem equally earnest, albeit with an intensity that borders on desperation.
Among themselves, they’re playful, with cooking tips and jokes about who has to get up at night to pee (they have to room together, something no grownup really wants to do!). But that’s not the main thread of their relationship, of course.
And so the game plan is laid out: The second week includes a birthday celebration for Gerry, a race to the clothing racks to select ridiculous costumes for equally ridiculous photo shoots.
The first individual date (with Theresa, at Jack’s Cadillac diner and motel, a 1950s retro location seen in dozens of movies), a cocktail party at the Bachelor Mansion, and the inevitable Rose Ceremony.