The ‘Real Housewives of Potomac’ Is in Its Iconic Era

If there’s been one irrefutable consistency in Real Housewives of Potomac’s history, it’s that—perhaps more than any other series in Bravo’s crown jewel franchise—Potomac is a masterclass in editing. The most talented, wickedly ingenious editors on this great earth sit on the top floor of Bravo HQ (which I believe to be a 3,000-foot-tall skyscraper, surrounded by thunderclouds and lightning, like Skeletor’s castle) and go absolutely wild in the editing bay. There is no idea too wacky, too esoteric, or too ludicrous to make it into the final cut of an episode. If there’s one thing that the premiere of RHOP Season 8 shows us, it’s that these gifted artists behind the keys are as much a reason for this show’s success as its charismatic cast of stars.

That much is true for the Season 8 premiere of the series, which launched Sunday night. Though the episode unfurls into a rather standard entry into the Housewives canon—far from the outstanding debut that one might expect, given the amount of drama that happened between seasons—the editors make it exceptional. The result is something that falls firmly in the middle of the road, not nearly as close as the franchise’s heyday that longtime fans would like to see RHOP return to, but not as exhausting as Season 7’s flat-out bad and disappointingly manufactured drama. Frankly, that’s a good enough start for the series at this stage, and a promising way to tease what’s to come.

Season 8 kicks off with another delightful bit courtesy of the show’s editors: a ’90s-style sitcom intro of a fictional series called Potomac Proper, starring all of our favorite Housewives. This nostalgic sequence is intercut with an equally absurd montage of some Season 8 events, set to a pulsating electronic score. There’s talk of Wendy Osefo’s mother building voodoo shrines to sabotage new cast member Nneka Ihim; Robyn Dixon sobs in the back seat of a sprinter van; Karen Huger tells us that she had a “contact high with ‘ganji,” before a cloud of purple and orange smoke frames her face in slow-motion, distorted laughter. It’s an instant reminder that, when these Housewives are good, they are so good.

It’s a shame the entire episode doesn’t reach the promise of this mosaic of chaos, but there are some necessary events to cover before things can progress. Robyn and her husband Juan have to sit down together to discuss what happened between seasons, and do it on-camera for posterity. For those who might be unfamiliar, here’s the short version: Juan “got duped” into paying for a hotel room for a woman he casually met at an event, meaning his name was on the receipt. When this news leaked, it caused a firestorm of suspicion over Juan’s continued infidelity, which wasn’t helped by a second accusation of him flirting at a laundromat before Juan was named in a sexual assault suit (which was ultimately dismissed, but not before Juan lost his job.)

Clearing the air is a required step for Housewives and Househusbands, but I’m not sure it necessarily needs to be an entire 10-minute segment of circling the drain. Putting this at the top of the episode really deflates the excitement that the editors conjured in the opening moments, but it’s perfectly fine, because there is much more in store. We briefly check in with Karen-Giselle-Knowles-Carter-Huger, who looks younger than ever at a dinner between her, Wendy, and Candiance Dillard. They ruminate on Robyn’s place in the series, before we move over to Ashley Darby, flourishing in her new home which still bears her ex-husband’s name on the mortgage. Thankfully, we may never see Michael Darby again. The cackling, pale, philandering Australian ghost has been banished back into the book of evil spirits from whence he came, never to be released again until some poor soul finds it at an antique shop and utters the words, “Who’s eating emu?” to release him.

Finally, after a middling first half, we check into Hotel Gizelle. There’s a loony, unpredictable effervescence that comes when Gizelle Bryant is onscreen, so it’s particularly nice to see her at this stage, especially when we join a scene with her and her new “man friend” Jason. Jason is—how can I put this without using hyperbole?—the most charming, sexy charismatic man to ever walk the earth. He’s tall, friendly, flirty, and 16 years Gizelle’s junior. But who cares? If you can lock down a man like Jason, any fellow Housewives’ remarks about an age difference just seem like petty jealousy.

Though I could watch the two of them cook forever, I’m not sure it’s a great sign that the most engaging part of this episode was watching Gizelle cross-contaminate her kitchen with raw fish. But I forge forward with an open heart, especially when it comes to Mia Thornton, who is smiling her way through a major life adjustment. Mia and her husband Gordon have been unceremoniously removed from their empire of chiropractic clinics, stifling their income after a family dispute that resulted in their expulsion. The only bones Mia is cracking now are her knuckles before she dives into the monthly budgeting process.

I think a more in-depth look at Mia’s troubles would be far more fascinating than the Robyn and Juan drama, especially considering that Succession is off the air and we’re in need of a suitable replacement. But perhaps we’re heading for that, and the producers are trying to knock all of the alleged infidelity coverage out of the way. Though, unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s all that likely, given how the premiere closes.

Robyn, Gizelle, Ashley, and friend-of Charisse Jackson-Jordon gather for an afternoon of Simply Spiked Lemonades at Hotel Gizelle (but not before each one of Gizelle’s guests nearly eats it on the uneven concrete outside her home). Each of the women wants to take the temperature of the current dynamic between Robyn and Juan, while also cleverly allying themselves with her should the other half of the cast choose to go on the offense this season. Robyn puts is quite simply: She doesn’t give a fuck what any of the others have to say anymore, and that’s good enough for the rest of the group sitting on the patio.

Hopefully, that will be good enough for the producers as well, since an entire season focused on infidelity drama that has already subsided would be a waste of time. Real Housewives of Potomac needs to get back to letting these women fight with each other, and not about their husbands. When the show reaches that level once more, I’m confident that the franchise can again match the greatness of the ambitious editing gags that have been holding it up for the last couple of seasons.

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