Vanderpump Rules shines in the shades of gray. After weeks of stagnation, the group have finally found a way forward by tossing aside their expected archetypes and embracing the unknown.
This season of VPR has struggled immensely to follow up the explosive Scandoval affair, and it’s in large part because reality isn’t simple, nor does it follow a linear narrative. Sometimes, the story we tell in our heads is antithetical to what truly plays out. Pre-season, Ariana Madix rose out of the ashes as the new star of Vanderpump Rules, showing how to make lemonade out of the most sour lemons—something she attempts to exemplify in this week’s episode.
But on screen, the real star isn’t Ariana, or even Tom Sandoval. It’s the supporting characters, particularly Scheana Shay. In Lake Tahoe, away from social media and podcast microphones, Scheana and Lala have had time to reassess, allowing the ladies to let their guards down. And the fourth wall has come all the way down, too. Vanderpump Rules is no longer pretending to be a show about servers or a friend group. This is a show about a group of microcelebrities contractually obliged to film together, and it only works when we embrace that.
It all begins to come together with guided meditation, or, for Scheana, psychological warfare. The producers smell blood in the water, well-aware Scheana will crack sooner or later, and this yoga class is the perfect way to break her. Forcing Scheana and Sandoval to stare into each other’s eyes as though it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other is a masterful stroke. It’s just so melodramatic.
The stakes of Scheana and Sandoval’s friendship dissolution are a lot deeper than previously thought, too. Not only were they close friends, but Sandoval lent Scheana money early in the pandemic, when she had no stream of income.
Sandoval is most certainly a villain, but he’s not an irredeemable big bad in a trench coat. Scheana sees this, but knows any show of friendship to Sandoval will be seen as an attack on Ariana, and she’s unsure how to balance her impulses. Although she’s stayed strong, yoga shatters Scheana’s exterior entirely. Staring into Sandoval’s eyes, Scheana lets go of her rage, and instead finds compassion—not just for Sandoval, but for herself. It’s easy to joke about Scheana having a big heart as she’s such a self-indulgent pot stirrer, but dare I say, Scheana’s a kind person who simply has intense personality flaws.
Scheana further unravels when she catches heat online for putting her arm around Sandoval in a photo with a fan. As she scrolls through tweets calling her fake, Scheana breaks down in tears. The Scandoval may have saved Vanderpump Rules, but it also tethered the cast to unrealistically rigid roles. Scheana and Lala are expected to be friends of Ariana, her loyal protectors, and nothing more.
“People are fucking dissecting this photo, and it’s just like ‘Scheana’s a flip-flopper. Scheana’s not loyal. Scheana this, Scheana that. Scheana’s fake,’” Scheana says. And yeah, maybe she is a flip-flopper, but Scheana is hardly fake. Fake would be to pander incessantly to the fanbase rather than act in accordance with how she really feels.
Scheana wears her heart on her sleeve in every scene, which is a big reason she’s been on this show 11 years. She’s incapable of repressing anything for even a second, often to her detriment. Watching her cry as the tides turn against her is a sad reminder of the double-edged sword that is reality TV fame. As the now-disgraced Brandi Glanville so astutely said in her own Real Housewives of Beverly Hills tagline, “the higher you climb, the farther you fall.”
It sucks that, in the modern era of reality TV, the cast are so aware of the fanbase. There’s no separation anymore, and it’s fascinating yet frustrating to see how social media reactions directly affect filming.
Scheana’s so solemn that she can’t even accept a Cheeto from Lala. Heartbreaking.
As she struggles, Scheana turns to Ariana, first with a heartfelt text and then a FaceTime. Scheana desperately needs a friend, someone to support her the way she tirelessly supports Ariana, but this doesn’t even occur to Ariana. After all, why should Scheana need anything? Ariana’s the main character here.
Gassed up as the spokesperson for women scorned, Ariana has internalized a superhuman mentality. It’s much easier to bask in unfettered adoration than face the nuanced reality of what she’s been through. It’s actually a very interesting juxtaposition to Scheana. While Scheana is unable to control her feelings, Ariana’s a full-on ice queen, masking any vulnerability under a facade of unbothered confidence. The Scandoval exposed a monster in Sandoval, but it created one in Ariana, too.
Many fans feel the editing is purposely painting a villain narrative for Ariana, but it’s quite clear she’s falling into that trap all on her own. As Scheana discusses her struggles on FaceTime, Ariana stone-faces her friend, annoyed that she’s not following the script. Although Ariana tells Scheana that she wants her to avoid Sandoval for Scheana, and not just for Ariana, it rings hollow. Ariana’s not willing to be genuine or give Scheana a bone. She simply wants Sandoval off the show, no matter what.
While Ariana’s motives make sense and paint a much more interesting character than “Unbothered Slay Queen Ariana,” she’s also isolating Scheana and Lala. On TV, there are main characters and there are supporting characters, and they know their roles. But in real life, people all have agency and value their own personal interests. Ariana (and Katie) seem to think Scheana is Judy Greer in a romcom: a painfully loyal side character with no dimension of her own. That’s a horrid misread of reality, one that exposes Ariana’s own self-involvement.
The episode’s end scene further explains the struggle of Scheana. Although Ariana has leveraged this scandal to her benefit, both with immense fame and financial success, the other ladies aren’t as fortunate. It’s very telling when Lala asks Scheana if Ariana has come to her defense over the social media criticism and Scheana instantly replies, “no, of course not.”
“When I try to talk to Ariana and say that I’m struggling, she either dismisses how I feel or tells me I shouldn’t feel this way because he’s a bad person,” she tells Lala. “It’s just like, ‘I know, but I’m just telling you I’m struggling.’”
That’s when Lala finally points out the unspoken truth: Ariana’s benefitting from this scandal much more than she’s hurting from it. I mean, she’s going on Dancing With the Stars—and that’s Scheana’s dream! Sure, it may be vapid for Scheana to wonder “what about me?”, but it’s also real. It’s funny, too. Only Scheana can provide us a sobfest over missing out on Dancing With the Stars. I love how DWTS is the holy grail for reality stars and rock bottom for most actors. It’s all about perspective.
It’s smart for the show to acknowledge how lucrative the Scandoval was, especially for Ariana. It single-handedly doubled—then tripled—Vanderpump Rules’ ratings, saving the show from imminent death. It propelled Ariana from the sidelines to a Bravo figurehead, an untouchable icon to the fans. But to her friends, she’s the same Ariana—only with an ego twice the size.
The disconnect is only furthered by her lack of vulnerability. We haven’t seen her grieve the relationship or bask in her newfound success. Ariana’s stuck in a more complicated purgatory, and it’s hard to tell how she really feels. I wish we could pull back the layers and get a more real response from Ariana, but maybe this surface display is the genuine Ariana.
While Ariana has the excuse of her life imploding, Katie’s simply a dud this year, and I can’t ignore that further. Tethered to Ariana, Katie has no character of her own. She has a sandwich shop with no opening date and no real friends, and her disdain for Scheana’s authenticity is a clear reminder that Katie does not, nor has she ever, understood the rules of reality TV. Schwartz is rather aimless, too, but at least he shares fun facts about blue jays.
But that’s enough on the sandwich girls, as there’s another dynamic moment this week, and it’s between Sandoval and Lala. When the Tahoe group go out on a boat, Lala and Sandoval drop the niceties for a real conversation. Lala’s still pissed that Sandoval told her she “needs to be real” with her own life last year amid his full-blown affair. And Sandoval understands that, but he’s right to point out they’re both liars, and there’s no real point in litigating who’s the bigger one. Even then, he does make sure to note—repeatedly—that she lied for a longer time than he did.
Lala slips, too, when she says Sandoval can’t talk about her past, but she can talk about his. Lala, you could’ve made a good point here, and that’s not it! The argument’s actually pretty funny, as both of them are dead on about the other, but horribly ignorant about themselves. This is not an introspective cast in the slightest, God bless. Though they slightly come to agreement, the scene represents that—despite the relatively easy road to redemption—Sandoval’s too stubborn to humble himself just for the sake of resolve.
On that note, Brock reveals that his publicist found out “off the record” that Sandoval’s team spread the rumor that Brock and Rachel hooked up, which Sandoval vehemently denies. I’m not sure that Brock understands the definition of “off the record,” as this TV show is very much on the record, but it’s a tidbit I’m glad he spilled. If Sandoval’s disastrous New York Times interview revealed anything, it’s that his team knows how to stir up a mess.
Next week, Katie and Lala get into it, while Lisa Vanderpump returns to tell Sandoval that she spoke with Rachel. Will Katie finally deliver an entertaining moment? And, was this the first time LVP has missed an entire episode? I’m not really sure, but it’ll be nice to see our humble dictator back in action.