
Mission: Man Band
tracks a reality show's efforts to restore four former boy-banders to their chart-topping glory. RS' Rock Reality Show Recaps track our efforts to be sympathetic to their cause. Here's our sixth and seventh reports: One Mantastic Hour In Two Mantastic Paragraphs: From the opening scene this week, it's clear that
Mission: Man Band is taking a less comic approach. LFO's Rich Cronin is in a hospital checking on his leukemia (which is still, luckily, in remission). The band preps for its big gig at Miami club Mansion, which includes a promotional stop at a radio station where *NSYNCer Chris Kirkpatrick calls Sureshot “a joke,” much to the chagrin of his bandmates and manager Miss Katie. During soundcheck, Kirkpatrick discovers that the mic stands he requested aren’t there and flips out. To alleviate the tension, Cronin finds out where they’re going for their pre-show dinner, rolls his eyes, points to himself and sings the line that made him famous: “Chinese food makes me sick.”
Suddenly, it's showtime. You know it's showtime because Cronin tells the cameras he has to go “Number two, bad.” Perhaps inspired by the return of the NFL, the club false starts the intro to the song, causing the band to scramble while the crowd looks on confused like they were watching Britney Spears' VMAs performance. Thankfully, Color Me Badd's Bryan Abrams is shoved out onstage and somehow makes the vocal cues on time. And the show goes great, the crowd is really into the music, and VH1 even makes it a point to find the one male audience member and instantly cast him as a Sureshot fan, which will make the poor guy the punch line of many jokes today at work.
<strong />
The Rockin’ Struggle: Back in Orlando, Miss Katie informs Sureshot that they are going to NYC to talk to the major record companies. Cronin thanks God for letting this all happen for him. But don't go praising the Almighty just yet, Rich. You still need to get signed to a label, and that's the subject of the season finale, which inexplicably airs immediately following this episode, likely the result of poor ratings, leading this writer to hypothesize that he's the only person actually watching this show. Miss Katie secures a private jet for the boys’ journey to New York. While flying over Giants Stadium, Kirkpatrick predicts Sureshot will be playing there in two years. Las Vegas immediately takes that bet and throws 1400-1 odds on it.
First stop on the label tour: Atlantic Records. Steve Lunt of Atlantic says the songs aren't “melodic enough,” meaning that they would make poor ringtones, so Lunt passes. Then the boys visit Jive. Sureshot producer Bryan Michael-Cox gives the project some cred, Jive’s Jeff Fenster whispers to BMC, but the three-week lifespan of the band is worrysome. Another concern is that according to the “Fenster Keep It Real department,” Abrams and Kirkpatrick are overweight. Ultimately, Fenster passes on Sureshot, but the meeting is encouraging. The boys fly home to Orlando without a record contract.
The Rockin’ Finale: On the flight home, Abrams, Cronin, Kirkpatrick and Jeff Timmons all agree that they're proud of the project and themselves. Sureshot, they insist, will remain a band, and to mark the occasion, Kirkpatrick pops a bottle of bubbly while sitting next to ex-alcoholic Abrams. The epilogue font brings us up to date, since the show was filmed in February: Rich's leukemia is still in remission, and the boys continue to work with Bryan Michael-Cox in hopes of securing a record deal. It's a good start for a band with a second chance.
The Best Moment: By far, the
Iron Man trailer that took up the entire first commercial break. It's as glossy and post-modern as
Spider-Man 2, but with Robert Downey Jr. and a better sense of humor. Plus, any movie that utilizes Filter's “Hey Man, Nice Shot” and (appropriately) Black Sabbath's “Iron Man” as the trailer music is a must-see. In terms of the show, the funniest moment was a continuing motif from last week: The unabashed horniness Kirkpatrick displays every time he sees and talks about the group's backup dancers. These are the caliber of girls that Justin Timberlake would feed to the road crew for their hard work, yet here is JT's former bandmate jumping around like a thirteen-year-old that found a hole to the girl's locker room.
More...